FRANK MERRIWELL’S BULLETS 1ARCH.13,1909. “SCENTS . STREET & SMITH PUBLISHERS NEW YORK\ \ | with each hare report a. da glass ball was shivered . inter. a thousand bits< fit tl for the e Arifican Youth — ii 7 oe L K Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second-class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Ave., N.Y. Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1909, tn the Officeof the Librarian of Congress; Washington, D. C. NEW YORK, March 13, 1909. Price Five Cents. EE _ No. 674. ay fa er SAS ea ee CHAPTER I. IN DENVER. ree Piacente Although Denver often has its worst weather in the spring months, the sun, which had just tank behind the distant snow- capped Rockies, was flinging a gorgeous riot of colors against the sky as Frank Merriwell stepped off the train. languidly waiting the arrival of the train, showed sudden and seemingly unnatural activity the mo- ment his eyes discovered Merriwell in the stream of passengers coming through the gate. This man was plainly, almost roughly dressed, but -acleanly, wholesome look. His large brown eyes glowed with pleasure as he advanced and called to Merry. calmly spoken words of that simple greeting _ there was indescribable pleasure and enthusiasm. - Merriwell seized the big fellow’s outstretched “hand. _. “How are you, Bruce,” he cried. you're looking brown as——” . “A Browning,” laughed big Bruce. “It takes life on a Wyoming ranch to give a man this color. It’s a trifle monotonous “at times in mid- winter, but it’s healthy.” “T declare, 6 A huge, handsome young man, who had been he was shaven smooth, and about him there was “How are you, Frank,” he said; but behind the - | FRANK MERRIWELL’S BULLETS oe A Steady Nerve and a Sure Hand. By BURT L. STANDISH. “T didn’t suppose you'd find it very monotonous -with that bunch of young terriers I left on your hands,” laughed Merry. “You had the worst boys of my school to deal with.” “But they weren’t so hard to handle on the T- Bar. You know they couldn’t cut up a great deal of high jinks there. pains to keep them busy at something every day and every hour of the day.” “And that is one secret of handling so-called vicious boys,’ nodded Merry. “Keep them at work, keep their minds occupied, don’t let them have time to think up deviltry, and it is surpri- sing how easily they may be managed. I didn’t feel sure that you would be here to meet me at the train. I should have taken a carriage and looked for you at the Brown Palace.” “Give me that big traveling-bag of yours, Frank,” said Browning. “We'll hit the trail for the Brown right away. “Bring a what?” laughed Merry. “I seldom encumber myself with excess baggage when trav- eling. Besides that, your telegram didn’t give ee me much time to waste in packing. I threw to- gether some things in this bag and had Toots drive me flying to catch a train. the skin of my teeth, too.” Besides that, I took Did you bring a trunk?” I caught it by, : | Browning insisted on taking the traveling- | bag, but 4 moment later he lieioacs it over to a Ah rab rersens Her eels nine ty oe sme oe p 2 i cabman, and soon they were in a carriage that was bound for Denver’s best-known He the Brown. “It seems rather good to get back out here in the big, open world again,” /said Merry. “I wired you to meet me, hut I refused to let the journey be spoiled by worriment over the con- tents of your message.”’ “I felt it my duty to let you know: about old Billy,” said Bruce; “but 1 hardly expected you wotild take the trouble to make this trip on his account. While he was at the T-Bar and un- able to get hold of booze he did pretty well, but I felt all along that he would fall the first time he found himself where he could secure the stuff. It’s no use, Merry, he’s too far gone to be re- claimed.” Frank shook his head. “I’m not willing to believe that,” he said. lhere’s something in the man yet, add I have pledged myself to "eebort him if it lies in my “power. Why, you wrote me several times that Bolivar was getting along finely and that he _ had proved to be entert: uning -and. diverting com- pany for you.’ “Oh, the man is a wonder, Merry; he’s. a ‘nat- arale born gentleman, - although he. had sunk to the very gutter ‘when you got hold of him. He’s surprisingly well -informed and sensible, having at the same time a mingled humorous and senti- mental turn that seemed strangely unnatural for one who had lived such a life as he. Oh, yes, his society was distinctly agreeable during the win- ter days on the ‘I’- Bar. He told me a hundred stories about his travels, adventures, and experi- ences as a tramp.- Some of those yarns, which "StF i the vowed were truthful, would be regarded as _ pure fiction if they could be put into print, I ; told him his experiences would be of untold value toa man who could write’ them up and make capital of them, and he actually contemplated try-_ ous ayo it af book, which he said he Was going to write some — Nay : + “Bruce, it’s a Pies for a man with such nat- _ urally fine instincts and such a really brilliant mind to die an outcast and a sot. pose that he shall do so if I can help it. He used to. talk about Billy Boljvar’s I don’t pro- you found any further trace of him?” ~ ‘Not a trace,’ was the answer. ‘hotel, and they got out. aa, “TL know that ( he took the train at Spear Head with Denver as his destination: but I’m a rotten poor trailer or ‘detective, Merry, and I haven't been able to trace him ae than’ this eae AS far as, Te can BEG, TOP: WEEKLY. he has vanished, gone, disappeared like steam in the air.” “I've had some success in running down people who have vanished in a similar manner. It was not always my cleverness that enabled me to ac- -complish my purpose, but, somehow, fate usually favors me. I am confident that I'll be able to get on the track of old Billy again. I want you to give me all the particulars. I want you to tell me how he left the ranch, and just what seemed to be the cause of his doing so. But we’ll have that story later on, while Wwe are taking dinner. Here we are at the Brown.” The cab had stopped in front of the handsome Frank’s bag was taken by a uniformed porter, and when the cabman was paid and dismissed Merry and Browning followed the porter into the hotel. CHAPTER II. THE TERROR OF BRUCE. BROWNING. Browning had a suite of two rooms and a bath on the third floor of the Brown, where, from the inside balcony at the door of the suite, one could look down upon the broad main floor Wiiete | the office was situated. | Merriwell paused ere following the porter, who © had brought up his traveling-bag. Guests were arriving ‘and departing, and down there upon the ground floor could, be seen a number of the — patrons of the hotel, including tourists, travel- ing men, health- seekers, ranchers, mine-ownters and-others of various walks in life. Lee Occasionally a stylishly dressed woman, usu- ally escorted’ by a member of the opposite Sex, crossed the tiled floor and paused to ‘Speak’ to an acquaintance, aye _ Upon the long, high- faced settees bladed | in the middle. of the. floor men lounged singly or chatted in groups of twos and threes, Some _ were reading newspapers; others idly watching the moving life about them. A group of six o: seven standing men, all well dressed, were talk- ing and laughing somewhat boisterously, as if they had indulged in liquid cheer at the bar, lo- cated in an RECMEE HEINE E corner room uno same floor. A dark, swarthy Me exican, who seemed to. a a ‘person of some importance, was talking gently to a mervous city man, who, occasionally splu tered excited answers and made thrashing, P technic gestures with his arms. iI in long-legged laced boots, woollen and son ay sauntered across the floor... TIP: “FOP The governor of the State, instantly recog- nized by Frank, a large man with an agreeable yet firm and intellectual face and a most incon- gruous bright red waistcoat, appeared and was almost immediately surrounded by other men. “What's the matter, ‘Frank, anchored laughed Bruce. “Oh, no,” smiled Merry; “but whenever I am here I feel an irresistible fascination in this par- ticular scene. It’s almost always the same, but it is attractive and interesting for the eye of an Fasterner.” “Well, some people might hesitate about call- ing you an Easterner, Merry: True, you were ‘born in the East, but you have big interests ‘in the West and the Southwest, and from the latter section. of the country the most of your fortune has come. You’re not a man of any particular section; you’re a man of the whole country.” “But I’ve been sized up as a tenderfoot on more than one occasion, you know.” “And whoever did so has quickly discovered his error.” ; Frank followed Browning ifito the suite and tipped the porter, who was fussing around ex- pectantly. “You must have things well in hand at the _ school, or else you could not have broken away -- so suddenly,” said Bruce. “I’m getting affairs at Farnham Hall into such shape that, under the management of Hodge, _ they will go on like clock-work any time that I am compelled to absent myself,’ nodded Merry, as he hung his light-weight top-coat in the clothes-press. hee > “How is the new idea, the new branch of the school, panning out?” “Splendidly.” _. “I’m glad to hear-it. I had some fears that you might find it difficult to start that depart- ment and get it to running smoothly in such a short time. ~ “Browning, I have had that idea under con- _ sideration for a very long time. When I opened the school and called it the American School of : Athletig Development, I felt that I might find it _ necessary to enlarge and broaden the original plan. It was all right for such of my pupils as had been overworked in the regular schools of the country, but they formed less than fifty per cent. of the boys who came to me. There were thers whose mental training, as well as their physical development, had been sadly neglected, nd you know it ever has been my belief that the {f- >) “WEEKLY. education of the mind and body should progress hand in hand. “Many people have been led to believe that I place physical development, which unthinking ones call mere brute power, above brain develop- ment, than which there could be no greater error. It was not long before I realized there was a serious flaw in my school. It was really a good thing for some of my boys to drop study for six months or a year, but there were others, and they were the majority, who had never been led to take the proper interest in suitable and bene- ficial studies. I soon saw that I had a great op- portunity to start these boys on the right course to obtain mental advancement as well as physical, and, therefore, | began thinking and planning for the institution at Farnham ‘Hall of a branch for business training. | | “This. 1 have done, and it is working beauti- fully. Every boy who comes to the Hall has to - pass examinations in studies as well as an ex- amination to determine his physical weaknesses. There is at my school no grilling, brain overload- ing grind of study, and there never will be. But every boy, accordingly as he seems to need it, is compelled to pursue some course of mental cul- ture. Already this has produced one most bene- ficial result; it has silenced those narrow-minded or prejudiced critics who were deriding the idea of a school for physical training only. It has likewise attracted the attention and interest of a number of wealthy philanthropists, who an- nounce themselves as ready to back me up in my project. There is now no shadow of doubt but that the school will be a magnificant and unquali- fied success.” “You don’t know how pleased I am to hear this, Merry. And I want to report that the — branch at the T-Bar ‘Ranch is a success also. Those young ruffians you shipped out there seem > to find it decidedly beneficial for them. To be sure, many of them didn’t like it.very much at first, but after a time they fell into line, and some of the worst among them have become my best boys. As I said before, I keep them busy. They have to drill and do gymnasium work the same as if they were at Farnham Hall; but I go further with them by insisting that they shall learn to ride broncos, to handle a rope, to shoot, — to round up cattle, and to do almost everything in connection with ranch work. It gives them. enough excitement to break the monotony of life on a ranch, and it’s a mighty queer chap who >; doesn’t soon begin to take pride in his new ac- Sees ake P quirements. oP: '. was, but whenever PER kOe “Browning, my conscience has troubled me a ttle: “What do you mean?” “You seemed to be the best man for the posi- tion I have given you, but I felt like a scoundrel when I, sent you out to the T-Bar and buried you there.” ‘“Nonsense, Merriwell. go?” “Oh, yes, you were willing enough to go when I proposed it to you; but still, it didn’t seem just right to make something of a hermit of i . “Hermit, nothing! I’m no hermit. We have plenty of society at the ranch, such as it is— all that I really need, I reckon. You know I never was much of a drawing-room ornament. I never did cut a great deal of ice at pink teas. I'd rather spend an afternoon or an evening lounging with my pipe and a good book for com- _ panions than to be the center of attractions in a crush of skirts. Ladies always made me shy like an untrained bronco. [| don’t know why it ‘ found myself thrown into the society of the fair sex I wanted to climb a tree as quickly as possible. ‘Take me in the midst Wasn't I willing . tq _ of a bunch of the gentle sex, and I feel just, about. as easy and graceful as a circus elephant.” “But you’ ve e always been greatly admired by the fair ones,” laughed Frank, | | Heed dike to know what in thunder any woman ¢an see to admire in a big brute like me.” “But I’ve seen them flock around you on vati- ‘ous occasions,”’ ‘Sure; that’s all right.. You know human be- ings are inclined to be interested in a monstros-, ity. r “But you're no, ieee Suit “Not? Look at me. I weigh two hundred dnd: twenty-five or thirty pounds. I’m so thundering big that I can’t get ay store clothes that will fit ‘\me. I’m compelled to have my clothes made by a tailor, my shirts by a shirt-maker, and even my ; under- clothing is put up special for me at the factory. You itemeniber what Macklyn Arbuckle says in “The Round-up,’ ‘Nobody loves a fat. man. aye: Bab you're not fat, Bruce. ‘You haven’t got a ‘pound of fat on you. You may have had in times past, but the first thing a observed about you | when me met at the station was that you looked » as at you were hard and solid and 1 in, good train- same NY asi 8 Ba “Merry, eatin foe you r bekene T avon weigh three hundred now. If any one hates exertion — ‘it’s yours truly, little. Bruce a es WEEKLY. we first met at college I was getting so heavy that it had become tiresome for me to keep ‘in training. I’m naturally as lazy as a dog. I was a sort of leader in my class, you know, ‘and they put me up against you: to do things to you. I[ tried it, and—you did things tome. ‘That made - me mad, and | took up training again. I don’t remember that I ever succeeded in doing much of anything to you after that, but when we became — friends, you used to shame me into keeping at work to hold down the accumulation of unneces- _ If I didn’t have to work now | sary avoirdupois: I wouldn’t, but in order to-make the boys drill — and ride and do other things, | have to get ‘out and set the eat Sometimes it’s like pulling cs teeth.” Kon _ Merry laughed heartily. | | “T think your laziness is:mainly in your mind,” a he said. “Not at all,” denied Browning. “1s the genuine article, clear sterling, no plating. Why, - you don’t know what a blamed good time I have h ad loafing here in Denver and waiting for your | arrival since I decided that old Billy ‘had given. me the slip and J couldn’ t do anyt thing further to get on track of him.’ ot “L’ve felt so bad about your being all signs out there on the ranch, Browning, that I’ve con- templated getting up a lively party of young folks, including a few jolly girls, and bri inging them out to the T-Bar.” | “Wha-at?” roared Browning, aghast. “Girls —girls on the ‘T -Bar! Merry, you're joshing.” “Tadeed, I’m not.’ ees “Then: you're plumb crazy. You're losing your mental faculties in your old age. Girls on that ranch! What in blazes, could we. do vith them?” E OO: sk think we could take care of them, call right. ” vf oe “I don’t, Why, if L ever knew that you, cents with a bunch like that I'd strike oe the Neb places occasionally. ‘Gitis on that ra Cc I can’see ’’em. They would be running all ov, the. place pestering a man into fits with th ) questions and their calls for attentions. A of the ‘I'-Bar, I would have to look afte NY thank you, Frank, not any for:mine.” “But thine what the reees man deg “fair sex. Vou say you’ re not.a hermit nor Bruce, but you'll become one; an ae SW troubling my conscience.’ ‘i ons fe ae it Pm all ty TOP Tie i I want to see people bad | can hook it downto -} Denver or pike up to Butte.” a. “And in Denver I'll guarantee you will take “} particular pains to keep away from the fair sex. | {In Butte you would have even less trouble to do | that. The kind of society you’ would: seek |} wouldn’t be likely to furnish a large amount of } feminine refinement.” és “Merriwell, you have malicious designs on me. ~} 1 want you to quit it.” —) » “Bruce, you're rapidly og. « Sold. bach.” “I knew you had malicious designs on me,” rasped the big fellow. “Just because you and -§ Hodge have gone and hitched up in double har- ers ness with two of the finest girls who ever ex- 4. isted, you want to get me into matrimonial diffi- culties. 1 tell you it’s no use. Wouldn’t I look fine with a hundred and four pound wife for a _ side partner—and the hundred and four peunders are the kind I admire. We'd look like Texas and Rhode Island. We'd be eminently fitted for the side show of a circus. If I had a natural pro- clivity for the big, overgrown kind, that wouldn’t _ be so bad—per ha aps. But they never seem to at- tract me much. I’m nervous and distressed in + the presence of a little woman such as I really if fancy.” _ “Tnza and Elsie are not exactly little women,’ said Merry; “but they aren’t big and over- grown, either. You always seem fairly at ease ‘with them.” / : “Oh, that’s different. You see, they were both ‘married, and I knew there wasn’t any danger that I’d fall in love with them and make a calf of myself. That’s why I felt at ease when they ‘were around, and sort of forgot my sizability.” becoming a confirmed ‘one whom you felt was the only one in the world for you, it wouldn’t be long before you would forget yourself just the same as you do when you’ re with Inza and Elsie.” ; 3 “Don’t talk to me! don’t talk to aie! I’m not going to do it. I’m set. in my ways, and I would ~ make any woman miserable. Merry, if you don’t - abandon this nefarious design, I sw ear I'll throw ‘up my job and flee to foreign lands.” , “Don’t start right away, will you, Bruce? e’ve got something else on our hands just now, o there’s no immediate danger to you. It must figs near dinner-time, I. think Uh make toilet “If you should fall in with the right girl, the - WEEKLY. 5 “Dinner’s on,” said Browning. “That’s the orchestra. I think I'll wash my paws and get this crust of alkali off my face.”’ By the time he was ready to descend to the . dining-room he found Merry surveyed Frank wonderingly. “I don’t know how you doi it,” he said. ““You’re as clean and dainty as if. you had just hopped out of a bandbox. No one would, suspect that you'd just arrived here after an overland trip of some thousands of miles. Talk about the fair sex being interested in me with you any- where around!” “But I’m out of the market,’ laughed Merry. “You'd better wear a sign to that effect. If I was your wife, I wouldn’t let you roam at large without a bodyguard. Back in the old college days all the fair ones went dotty over you, and you're more ravishing now than you were then.”’ “Really, Bruce, you:make me laugh,” said Frank jokingly. “Cut out the taffy and come on.” | The elevator bore them down to the dining- room, waiting, and he ' CHAPTER Tif. BROWNING ’S STORY. When they were seated in the dining-room and the first course was ordered, Merriwell asked Bruce to give him the particulars concerning the unexpected flight of old Billy Bolivar, who had left the, T-Bar Ranch without warning. “Tl boil it down, Frank,” said Bruce. “As I told you, old Billy was getting along finely, al- though for some time after you took him to the ranch he was in bad shape; caused by suddenly breaking off drinking. He pulled through it all right and began to brace up and look respect- able, His face assumed a more natural appear- ance and the redness gradually faded from his nose, His eyes grew bright and lost their bleary expression. He. took a new interest in life. I gave him some little duties to look after, and he performed them, faithfully, Still, I knew there were times when the craving for drink seized him > and he was compelled to fight against it with all — I. be-— lieve, had he remained there a year without tast~ his strength. He told me ‘of such spells. ing liquor, he would have mastered the desire.” Frank nodded. “I had hopes that Bruce.’’, “One day,” such woiitd be the cute, > <2 werner manne ma “ oN * ae et abe . l- inst Beihai tencel instill taal sana continued Browning, “I was sur-_ lead to see three baeenint ride, up to oe, - hits tote liasnact teltinitiicts asta sicciaatistec sein tubal 6 Bar. They had ridden all that distance across the country from Spear Head. One of them was a disreputable euide by the name of Pawnee Logan “Oh, that man? Why, Logan has been into almost everything crooked, according to reports. Last I knew, he was suspected of cattle rustling.” “He managed to keep out of the clutches of the law «ang the cattlemen, although it is said that old Colonel Cawthorne has beige to shoot him. on sight. Of course, I looked the others over suspiciously when I recognized Logan. They were a tall, thin man and a snaky, shifty- eyed individual who seemed more like a hobo than anything else, although he wore the usual clothes for outdoor life at this season, The thin man gave his name as John Trace, and the other was introduced as Jim Miller. Trace was a per- son of some evident education and ability, but Miller talked, as he looked, like a hobo. “Of course we’re hospitable at the T-Bar, and strangers are always welcomed, ‘Trace stated at once that he had come on business and had engaged the other two men as a guide and a bodyguard. He seemed to regard ‘them as in- feriors, and it was at his own suggestion that they were relegated to the bunk-house with the cowboys. I took him into the ranch as a special guest, and after supper on‘the night of his ar- rival he stated his business—or, rather, what he pretended was his business. He said that he was a representative of a es that was going into cattle on a big scale, and he had come to look the T-Bar over with the idea of purchasing it. ’ “I was srtints to give him the laugh, but I didn’t. I simply told him that he had wasted his time, as the T-Bar was hot in the market. That didn’t seem to jar him much. He stated that the syndicate behind him was so wealthy and powerful that they would pay enough for the _ property to buy it anyhow, whether it was in the market or not. J had to argue with him for two hours before I could even, succeed in driving a grain of the idea into his head that the ranch wasn’t for sale at any price. Even then he didn’t seem inclined to give up: He declared that he would look the ranch over for the next day or two and make a proposition to you if his judg- ment led him to believe the syndicate would in-_ sist on acquiring the property. I let him go to sleep with that still simmering in his. mind—as - I supposed. “For two days those three men remained at the _tanch.) ‘Logan and Miller loafed around the x ‘% WEEKLY. bunk-house the most of the time, while Trace looked the buildings over, made inquiries about a whole lot of things and seemed to persist in the belief that money would buy anything and therefore the T-Bar could be obtained by his syn- ‘dicate. “A queer thing happened under my eyes the very first day those men were there. Miller was smoking in front of the bunk-house when old silly Bolivar came round the corner and saw him. I wondered what had happened to Billy, for he jumped back and staggered as if shot. I .thought he was going to turn and run, but he didn’t t. Finally he stiffened up and stood there glaring at Miller, who lifted his hand and made a queer signal like some sign of a secret order. Then Miller spoke to Bolivar. They were so far away that I couldn’t hear what was said, but I saw old Billy shaking his head and talking in the greatest excitement. After a time Bolivar did turn squarely round and walk away. Miller watched: him until he was out of sight, and I fancied there was a sneering, evil smile on his face. Of course, being at a distance, J couldn’ tex be sure of this. fee, “Well, Frank, this little affair set me wonder- — ing. I didn’t understand it. ing for Bolivar. new building we put up as barracks for the boys. I had given him a room all by himself on the — second floor at one end of that building. He was _ there, and he heard my footsteps before I ap- peared at the door. I found he had backed up into a corner and was standing glaring at that — door with an expression of mingled fear and rage. The moment he beheld me be underwent a — change and seemed inexpressibly relieved. oe “T questioned him. I told him I had seen him — meet Miller, and I asked him about it. The min- ute I did this he betame about as talkative as a’ clam. He practically closed up, and I couldn’t get a word out of him. Indeed, he was so stub- born in avoiding my questions or flatly declining | to’ answer them, that I became angry and | left him. “Tate on the afternoon of the next day I found Bolivar—drunk!” ‘ _ “What?” cried Frank. “Yes,” nodded Browning, given him oh “somebody had He was not off his feet or anything of that sort, but he was plainly under — the influence. I demanded to know where he got the stuff, and again he refused to answer. | couldn’t get any satisfaction out of him, and s I started in to investigate. I found out tha Finally I went look- — I found him in his room in the | ue oka Miller was the man who had given him drink. 4) at the T-Bar then. I had just a few words to ; say to Miller, and there was no way for him to | misunderstand me. ‘Then I went to Trace and told him something also. It was dark by that eo time, but 1 seforined him that he could take his two companions and moye on from the T-Bar ' first thing in the morning. Of course he tried to make some excuses and avoid the blame, but I meant business and he saw it. Finally he got on his dignity himself and told me that they would go as soon as another day dawned, ‘They left sooner than that. You know I al- ways slept pretty sound, Merry.’ I haven’t got- ten over the habit. . Had you been there, -it 1s likely you would have heard Trace when he rose in the night and left the ranch-house. gone in the norning; so were Miller and Logan - —and old Billy Bolivar. Meri > They had taken their horses and sloped in, the | ‘night. At daybreak a storm came on. It wasn’t | exactly a Norther, but it was thick and threaten- ~ ing. We started out to follow their tracks. It “wasn’t any good, for the snow covered those tracks before long. Some of the men declared the four would perish on the plains. I thought that quite likely myself. They didn’t, however. »» 4s soon as I could get out to Spear Head I did so, with the intention of wiring you. W 4 I arrived there 1 found those four men had reached the place and departed by rail. At the station they had purchased tickets for Denver. “Then I sent you that message and you tele- er aphed me to meet you here. s aerate the story, F rank, Fh epee eee oS 6 CUN i Sa se 2 s e Fe en OO Ve AY \y 1 ya eee Se l CHAP TER IV. MHE APPEARANCE OF JOUN TRAC E. Fes hearing Browning’s storys Merriwell eemed to meditate over it while attacking the meat course. Finally he observed: bk /*T admit that it’s s peculiar,” nodded the big llow. “I, thought perhaps you could figure t something i in “the way of an explanation. I éking to purchase the T-Bar.” “T hardly believe that myself.” 1 “Well, if he didn’t represent. such parties, wa rou ie him to. the ranch in eae led You can bet your life there was something doing He was_ “Tt?s something of a my stery, isn’t it, Bruce?” on’t believe John ‘Trace repr seed a syndicate that tramp fraternity of criminals. ae Nie from his orniet life ae associates; and th WEEKLY. ig “I wish you could answer your own questions, Browning.”’ | “And why did old Bolivar act so peculiarly? WI! hy did he go away with those three men?” “That might be expli ained. It’s likely old Billy was thoroughly ashamed of his fall from grace. It 1s probable also that, having tasted liquor ae the old fires were rekindled within him and he found himself yearning with an irresist- ible desire to go on a spr ee—to drink his fll There’s an old saying, ‘Once a tramp always a ee. It may not “be strictly true, but let.a 1an get the hobo wanderlust in his veins,,and heres small possibility that he will ever. be thoroughly cured of it. It is likely many of Bo- livar’s restless spells w ere caused by this desire to take to the road again.” “Possibly you have explained it, Merry, but I don’t see tig those men should have-chosen to be: encumbered by ‘such an unnecessary compatien as old Billy. ee “Tt is ee * admitted Merry, frowning. “You say this fellow called Miller looked and talked. like a. hobo, in spite of his clothes?” 3 “A hobo or a yeggman.. I had a fancy that _ he.was a tough custgmer with a criminal record. There was a certain hang-dog air about him that always arouses my suspicions .of any one who displays it. At the same time, he looked+like a desperate customer who would not only sand-bag a man in the dark, but would fight: like-a wildcat when backed into a. corner. ‘In my judgment, Miller was a far more dangerous man than Paw- nee Logan, who has a reputation as a gun- fighter. i , A ay “Browning, do you know there is a fraternity of PAPAS Fe cis, BE sia ph 3 “T’ve heard so.” . ag “It is true. ‘They have their secret order, their ~ initiatory rights, their pledges and their signs — and signals. ai am inclined to believe that Miller — was a member of this order, and I happen ff know that old Billy, 1 in the course of his career, was once initiated into it. I, think I told you~ briefly the facts concerning the'Lamar City bank tobbery and the murder of the bank cashier, ae crime for which Bolivar came near. paying the — death Lea although absolutely innocent. | that time he told me ahoue this seacet order. I’m | At satisfied that you were right in your estimate of — the man Miller, and that he was a member’ of Yous saw him give Bolivar the sign of the order: when. the Old Billy: had been trying: to. break awa See a SOE NRE ee? om emp mn th uy 8 ? TIP Or pearance of that man filled him with terror. That is why he behaved so queerly.”’ “But why didn’t he say so—why didn’t he tell me, Frank?” ~ Because he is bound by an oath to betray no comrade of the organization. Doubtless Miller sealed his lips.” “Well, that theory seems reasonable; but still, T don’t see why those men should choose to bother with old Billy. You had an agreement by which Bolivar was to receive certain pay for his serv- ices at the ranch, and he has never taken the money up. He was supplied with clothing and such necessities as he needed, it is true, for which he was charged a certain price, but there was be- tween fifty “and sixty dollars in cash due him, He didn’t ask for it.” “If he had done so, you’d have known of his intention to leave, and you might have interfered with him. For that reason he didn’t ask for the money. He must have taken one of the horses, however.” “He did;but the queer thing about that i is that | he left the animal in charge of a man at Spear: Head, saying some one from the ranch would call for it. The other men sold their horses. Bolivar didn’t attempt anything of the sort.” “He took a bronco, I presume?” ‘ “Ves, 99 “Bearing the T-Bar brand?” PP agi? “Well, you know it might have aroused suspi- cion had he tried to sell that bronco in Spear Head. Still, I am inclined to give him credit for another motive. I’m inclined to believe he didn’t offer the horse for sale because he felt that the animal was not his to sell.”. “Queer you have so much confidence i in such men, Merriwell.” “Bruce, I’ve seen quite a lot of ‘old Bae and I know that by nature he is an honest man. ¥v I’m not saying that his life has not led him into. occasional crooked actions, but I believe he never did a dishonest thing in his life that his con- science didn’t punish him for it.” / “Any one would fancy an old wreck like him might be wholly without a conscience, Merry.” “Tt would be natural to suppose that his sense of honor must be dulled by the life he has led, _yet I have reasons to believe such is not the case. He has lived like an outcast, a dog, a creature in the gutters, and yet, through it all, he has » - somehow held fast to that natural instinct of honor that was his years ago when he was called ag a eo. at Y ale. cctapossi ble thecat » it ua (Aes WEEKLY. “nounced. ener trnerny tn cen a aoe pr Ente 7 Ries age it may seem, that man is still a lover of things beautiful, both in art and in nature. When [| perceived that this was the case and that he still retained a sense of honor and justice, I came to think it possible he might be reclaimed.” : “Those four men bought railroad tickets at Spear Head, Merry. Bolivar had no money. |} Why did the others let him have money to pay his railroad transport tation?” | “Now you're touching on the most puzzling feature of this odd affair, Bruce. I can’t answer that question—now. I hope to be able to answer it some day soon. I hope to pick up the trail of old Billy and follow it until I find him and learn the real reason for his flight from the T-Bar.” Suddenly Browning picked up a menu and held it high in front of his face, as if studying | it with great interest; but Merriwell perceived “4; that his real purpose was to hide his face, as far |, as possible, from the observation of some person os ae approaching. | 278 Merry did not look round, but he surveyed Sa shay tall, thin man in black who followed a waiter | past the table. Behind the tall man came a young girl who did not seem to be more than seventeen or eighteen years of age, but who was stylishly _ and tastily dressed. She was quite dark, witha — mass of raven hair, a pair of midnight eyes, and — full red lips. The tone of her skin was olive, brightened by a healthy color in her cheeks. e Such a girl was certain to attract attention © anywhere. She was like a bud on the verge of - opening into beautiful and ravishing blossom, — The waiter placed the man and the girl at the | table next to Frank and Bruce. The. ‘man sat down with his back toward Browning, which brought the girl facing Frank, and her eyes met his, “te looked away immediately, not wishing to embarrass her in the least. But a moment later, on carelessly glancing in her direction, he found that she was watching him, while the color in her cheeks had seemed to grow more pro- Her companion spoke to her, and they — consulted over the menu. The man had a harsh, peculiar, unpleasant voice. Browning leaned . forward and spoke to Merry in a whisper “That man!’ he said. eV ests sae “It is John Trace!” declared Bruce. + CHAPTER V. HUMP, OF NEW MEXICO. ; “Are ee certain?” : “Sure.” . _ KING fib FOR pee Bact tA [his is interesting. . “It is fate. A while ago you said that fate l 4 seemed to assist you when you needed assistance, | and here is an example of it.”’ "1 Frank could hear the voice of the girl, soft and _low and clear, with a slight accent which seemed t to proclaim that she was not an American. Al- een ready he had decided that there must be Spanish blood in her veins. . “I’d better get out of here, Frank,” said Browning. Merry shook his head. “Stay where you are, Bruce,” he directed. “If Trace should observe me and recognize cote” “It’s scarcely probable he will while you re- main seated, for his back is toward yours.” The man in black gave the waiter an ordet and then sought to talk to the girl, who somehow |’ seemed but indifferently interested in him and his conversation. Again and again Merry dis- | covered her dark eyes turned in his direction, | and somehow he fancied there was an appeal in their depths. He knew this might be no more than imagination on his part, and yet it seemed something more. | Who was she? and what relation did she bear to her middle-aged companion, whose hair was ; gray upon the temples and thin upon the top of | his head? Surely, that man could not be her ots Lather, oS point Frank decided to his own aa complete satisfaction by making a comparison | between them. No drop of the blood of. John Trace flowed in the veins of that girl. In spite of her unusual beauty, ther e€ was some- thing about her suggestive of a pantheress. She resembled a flower, it is true, but she made Merry _ think of a tiger-lily. About her garments there _ were touches of yellow and black, colors which _ became her, yet which added to that peculiar sug- eA gestion which was growing more evident to Mer- _ riwell, even while ‘it was so slight and evasive that it might have escaped the notice of others. u-He decided that she was a girl of deep and sud- -+den emotions which, perhaps, had to a large ex- tent remiained untouched and unawakened up to this point in her life. Although Merry had been scores of times be- trayed by fickle humanity, he had not lost any Particle of his faith in human nature. Never- heless, those experiences had taught him a les- on, and while he remained lenient and more than willing to trust, he was likewise on his guard. It interested him to speculate concerning the. true ture of this girl, to wonder if she was one who =m Tt bes ee eee \y ~ “- Phe” _Cranch?” 4 WEEKLY. 9 could find pleasure in intrigue and deception. He had come to know that most fickle persons deceive themselves fully as much as others. For a time they believe in the depth of their own tran- sient emotions, and they seldom betray with mal- ice aforethought. ‘This girl still retained that in- describable air of innocence, marred, perhaps, by a touch of worldly wisdom, yet not dispelled or lost; and he finally concluded that it was she who might trust and have her ideals shattered. Although she glanced at Frank frequently, there was in this no attempt to flirt with a good- looking stranger. Her interest in him seemed to be that of one who discovers an unusual man among men and realizes the meaning of the dis- covery. The man and the girl began their meal with oysters and soup. She ate with a certain dainty refinement that declared her breeding. Browning was uneasy, but he retained his seat while Merry dallied over the dessert. The people i in the dining-room gave casual and careless notice to a huge, broad-shouldered, bronzed man with long hair who entered and looked around as if searching for some one. This man had about him the mark‘of a rancher, but it was plain on the instant that he was a per- son of large affairs. “Who is this, Merry?» asked Browning, as the big man came striding down the room. The newcomer had his eyes on the man in black, and he halted at the next table. “How are you, Cranch?”’ he saluted. The man Browning had said was John Trace rose at once and gave the other his hand with a sort of cold heartiness. “How do you do, Spaulding,” he said. “Didn't feel quite sure you would get in before to-mor- row. Permit me to introduce my ward, Miss Al- magoro.’ The man called Spaulding bowed with a sort of awkward courtesy to the girl. “Miss Almagoro,’ he said, I have heard Mr. Cranch speak of you, but some- how I had the impression that you were a little girl,” “Oh, Mr. Cranch always speaks of me That way, ” she smiled. “Really, it makes me) feel quite insignificant and childish.” ee can’t help: thinking that Otero is a little. girl,” said Cranch. “She has been with me ever since shé was eight years old, and it is hard to realize that she’s a young lady now.” | “How will that little matter come out, pels Si al Nl ah a Ba ail ales ns iletentt lin “T am. delighted.. $e TO EEPaLOP “Tt’s all right, Spaulding. . You'll gather in the Bell Ranch ‘without any trouble at all. If you keep on, you will own the whole of Union. You must have control of immense territory now.” “Land in that country is going to be of great value in a few years. I've been picking it up and adding to my holdings for ten years now. I have a plan of development and a scheme for selling land by the acre. The land that I hold Ee is immensely fertile the moment it is- properly + watered. I’ve bought a lot of it for a mere song, Ea and I’ve got more from the government by vari- “)+ ous little schemes 2 Thad to hi: ive the Bell Ranch on account of the valuable water privileges upon it. Of course, | would have paid a fancy price Pe was the use? I couldn’t get it from old Zeb Bell, ae but he’s dead now. ‘ ; ee “And you ‘ll get it from «his ate heir, all right,” nodded 1 Cranch, “We had some trouble im finding this heir, but we located. him all right. Ull give you all the particulars after dinner. Won’t you dine with us?” : “Had dinner oni the train, Cranch.” het Merry leaned over the table and. answered -Browning’ S question. “Dh at man is a rancher of New Mexico,” he said. “His property is located on a branch of the’Canadian River. His ranch-house stands on the west bank of Ute Creek, some oe or forty miles north of the Canadian. I’ve had dealings with him before. He was concerned in the syn- dicate that attempted to wrest my Pablo-Mystery mines from me, although he didn’t figure heavily in the fight. His full name is Humphrey Spaul- ding. Down in New Mexico they call him King fy aaa 8)? o> As at this foie ae ean name had reached his Frank. An expression ,of recognition slowly -erept over his: face. In a moment or two. he stepped toward Merry, saying: “Well, I swear, qT believe you're. Frank Mer- --riwell!’”’ i Frank rose. evr OU te right about that, Mr. Spaulding,” he said. OW ell, | siiiee Hinds i ting out his huge paw. ,““You got the best of the — bunch on that, mining-deal, and I lost some _ money in it, but I’m holding no grudge.” | ~.. “That’s very generous of you,” laughed F ‘rank, a bit spat casi “considering the fact that . ‘ sid tue? Ob beet, a ay a bs » for it if I had been compelled to do so, but what ; ears, the big man suddenly turned and looked at Waden King Hump, a WEEKLY. “Oh, that was pure business, my boy—pure business,” chuckled the big cattleman. is The man Browning had called John Trace, || but who had been called Cranch by Spaulding, was twisted about on his chair and staring at Merriwell. | Browning realized this, and he muttered an | exclamation of regret under his breath. ? The girl looked on with a light of interest in her dark eyes, her lips slightly parted, thus ree | | vealing two rows of beautiful teeth, which were — so white that they actually scintillated. | “Perhaps you call it business, Mr. Spaulding,” said Merry; “but it seems to me more like fraud on a gigantic scale. ‘The manipulators did their level best to pinch me in the stock market and . » strip me of everything | had in the world. If 4. [ had not proceeded to get busy and fight like a — ee os ee Se td SE Oe ne ee an iat ah a ont tiger, they would have succeeded, too. They | | carried the matter to the last ditch; for I had =|: pers ; to make a fight for the mines which t ey had Oe actually seized, and which they sought to hold. by some. 8 re 4 force of arms.’ scum “In these days, young man, might makes right, aie you know.. I know very little about stock-market |: tricks, and I was not consulted or concerned in> ; that. All I knew or'cared about was that our | - company had gotten hold of some immensely ~{ — . rich and valu: ible mines, which they proposed to ei develop and work to the limit. (1 dropped a. TOW. ar sella into that project, and never saw the color, te of the coin afterward.” hin “Which was the fault of the rascals with, «| whom you. were associated, Mr. Spaulding. When the Pablo- Mystery company was organ- ized I was rather anxious to unload some of my burden of mining-operations, although I was not | inclined to ‘Place myself i in the power of any body, ; of men. ‘To ayoid this, I held, the balance of power in stock.’ I was ‘also paid for a part of ‘my interest in railroad stock. ‘The syndicate — plotted to cut down that railroad stock, and they. made a sudden assault upon it. hey figurec that I would have to support my holdings in the market, which would make it necessary for me to plunge. They looked for me to do ‘foolis thing's They were not prepared for me to mee them at their own game, but I. did so, and | cam out on. top. tblo- Mystery: is stronger than ever; but chip corapeay at is'an honest one, and I have little worrim over its affairs. he mines are paying hand- somely, and I seldom bother to visit or inspee them, although I am going down that wag Bruge eae FE rank a A glanlte. ~ aAe TOE 3 “So that’s how you happened ,to be in Denver, isit?’ said King Hump. “You’re going down to } the mines, eh? My boy, I'll admit that you’re ‘ brainy and a good fighter. At one time I was } pretty sore on you because I’d lost the money I o. threw into that business, but I’m willing to let 6 bygones be bygones. You didn’t break me— | hardly! I’m not a mining man, and I suppose ‘| I was a fool to get into that deal. I’m going ‘| to open up a big, ‘tich country down on the “Can- ~~} adian. I hold a few square miles of land down _ there, and some day it will blossom like a rose. I know, for I’ve irrigated sections of it, and the a moment you put water onto those arid lands, ~} they turn into an Eden. < “Tt will cost a fine little sum to do the irri- | gating, but when I’m ready to begin I’ll have ea all the money | need right in my fist. The | Spaulding Land Dev elopment Company will be | the biggest thing of its kind ever seen in New wae Mexico. . The land I’ve gathered up for a song | per acre will sell for fancy prices. I shall ad- vertise it all through the East. I'll show how Easterners, by investing in thaf land, can be as- sured of permanent and steady incomes. I shall not bid for the money of the big fellows; my ob- ject will be to sell to the poorer class, and I’m going to work the instalment gag. You know how' it goes: pay so much down and so much a month until you get your land, and all the time that land will be. under irrigation and cultiva- - tion and returning an income to the investor. It’s one of the prettiest plans imaginable’ Think how many people there are, having a few hun- _ dred dollars, who will eagerly grab at the chance of investing and paying a monthly sum over and - above the amount they are able to nail down for _ their purchase. Think how the flies will flock to the molasses. Make ’em believe they will finally get back a yearly income of a thousand dollars apiece on an investment that won’t cost - them much more than that, and they will come -a-running.” {| . “But such a thing is scarcely feasible, is it, Mr. Spaulding?” “Of course it’s feasible. What do you mean?” “TY mean that these people who invest will not receive such returns for their money as you claim.” “Oh, that’s all right. Of course they won't. Only easy marks could expect anything like that. Why, if the land could be made to pay so ex- travagantly, there would he thousands of big in- vestors ready to grab it up. It’s valuable. land, you understand. I'll swear to that, all right. WEEKLY. ‘ranch, ‘King Hump. But it’s seldom a man gets something for noth- ing. Should any of these investors choose to settle on their land and work it, they will be able to thrive fairly well, while I’ll obtain a big reve- nue for irrigating-privileges. I expect a certain per cent. of the people who buy will come and settle on the land. I’m counting on that. But there will be a great many more who will do nothing of the sort, and a good part of these, when they find the expected income is not rolling in on them, will finally become discouraged and throw up their hands. They will cease paying the monthly instalments, and, according to their contracts, the land will come back to me. You see, all this will be clear gain. It’s a square deal, and I can’t be responsible for the welfare of foolish folks.” For certain reasons, Frank Merriwell did not feel like expressing his opinion of that “square deal’ just then. ‘So you’re going down to the mines, eh?” nodded King Hump, after a moment of silence. “Well, if you get around my way, drop in at the Crown Ranch. Look us over. Perhaps you'll want to buy some land.” He ended with a Jaugh that shook his entire frame. “Thanks for the invitation, Mr. Spaulding,” nodded Merry. “Perhaps I may roll in on you some day—who can tell? By the way, let me introduce you to the manager of my Wyoming Mr. Browning. ding.” Bruce rose and shook hands with King Hump. Possibly he was not quite as heavy as Spaulding, but he was well proportioned, while the other was built awkwardly and without any symmetry whatever. “Seems to me I’ve heard something about your having a ranch somewhere up North,” | said Spaulding. ‘“That’s rather odd, too.” “Not so very odd. You see, I run a school in the East, and I send some of my boys out here to Wyoming to the ranch. The object of the school is mainly physical development, and ranch — life is precisely what lots a those youngsters need.” “T want you to meet my friend, Cranch,” said “I want you to meet him and his ward.” | Browning was ready to face the music now. Merry and Browning were Cranch and the girl. ' As Bruce bowed to the tall man in black, he observed: dhae lari ores Tai as oh b i rate Ne Ss a a a a a ia Browning, Mr. Spaul-. introduced to al i dail encase te inst ie tae “Mr. Cranch? That’s rather odd. time I saw you you were passing under the name of Trace—John Trace.” CHAPTER VI. WAS HE THE MAN? The man gazed at Bruce with an air of sur- prise and perplexity. “What's that?’ he rasped harshly. ‘“‘t don’t think I quite understand you, young man. I don’t remember ever meeting you before, and I’m cer- tain I’ve never traveled under the name of Trace.” “You were at Mr. Merriwell’s ranch not very long ago, sir,” asserted Bruce positively. ‘4 ‘ hardly, think you have forgotten ‘it,’ “You're entirely mistaken, young man,’ de- clared Cranch, ‘l’ve just returned from the Fast, bringing back my ward, Miss Almagoro, who has been at boarding- school. I think she will confirm this and correct your error, Mr, Browning.” He turned and fixed his cold, steely ey es upon the girl, who answered at once: “That’s the truth, Mr, Browning.” Bruce stood his ground. “Tt must be that you made ‘the journey to the T-Bar since your Eastern trip, sir, for you cer- tainly couldn’t have gone Fast and returned. to Denver after leaving the ranch.” eee “Ts it possible,”’ s "said the man, with a frigid stnile which seemed to contort his features in an ‘expression of pain, that, or else you re moray y mixed up, young man. “Do you mean to tell me,” demanded, Brow n- ing, “that you were not at the T-Bar six days ago, in company w ith a man:called Miller and a "guide who is known as Pawnee Logar?”’ 3 “Never heard of such men in my life. I. hayen’t been in Wyoming in a year and a half. . My business—[’ ma lawy er—hasn't called me up i eee way.’ ne Diem i man this side’of the Mississippi River.” | “You certainly are,” nodded Cranch, with a : Pdiehiedl expression. ‘Do you mind telling me about this double of mine? ‘Tike me??? |: saat tat 6 OY OVETY particular, sit. ‘ ture es. The last “that I have a double? Hither — said Reownleay “Pm the wor st-fooled Did he really look a “you would do anything of the sort, sit,” he bowed. Vee not ‘only looked sur ely, Boli ivar spe have been a burden to. : like a but ed had ye voice and yout, ae WREKLY. spectable citizen. How did he your’ “On a profession of business; he claimed he had been Sastre by a syndicate to inspect Mr. Merriw ell’s ranch, with the idea of pur- chasing it.’ CN e *. ‘ . ow, it’s rather unpleasant for a man to know that he has a double w: undering around over the country somewhere. what sort of complications this double might get ° 7° i . r 4 . . me into. Did this man Trace do anything: dis- agreeable or annoying?” oe He was more or less happen to visit nodded annoying,” Bruce, “by his persistence in believing he could One of his aay, Wier purchase the ‘T-Bar at some price. companions brought liquor onto the ranch. never have the stuff there.” | “Mr. Browning tells me,” put in Frank, at once, “that one of Trace’s associates gave liquor i to a poor old man whom I’ve been trying to re- form—got him drunk, in fact. When Trace and | the men departed, this man went with them. He’s | a worthless old case, and I’ve spent too much , time on him already, I presume » it is a good.” riddance for me. This was said in a careless manner, as if Merry — had really decided to have no further concern’ i over old Billy Bolivar. Browning was surprised at first, but he e quickly fell in with Merry, saying: ‘The old fellow was more or less of a nuisance. around the ranch, It’s trouble enough to look after the youngsters there without having to kee watch over a worthless old hobo who never owe amount to anything , anyhow.” f ‘Mr. Merriwell,” said Cranch, with an ase sumption of dignity and injured innocence, eg you will take the trouble to investigate, you wil - find that I’m aman of some reputation and stand ing, and, therefore, the last one to visit your» ranch in company with nae ae chatacteys, ¢) person as ; this Bolivar is nee to ey | visited your ranch, as Mr, ee holes I’d never encumber myself with a worthless” ol ee ate when taking my departure.” 4 er. “One would io appase it cei on “You could have no possible object, and ae: balan hed, a ie unpleasant Reriivedidi vit oe a double who: yeernibled me so elneey that ‘There’s no telling, | EP “FOP my most intimate friends could tell us apart. — 1 was a mere boy at the time, and this double of _mine was a young rascal who, although it may sound like fiction, had become the leader of a band of desperadoes and marauders of the most vicious and dangerous type. This body of law- breakers operated in Oklahoma and Indian ‘Ter- ritory. ventually they committed so many crimes and became so bold and defiant that a body of Vigilantes was organized to hunt them down. At the time I happened to be traveling in that section of the country, and it was I who fell into the hands of the Vigilantes and came near get- ting my, neck stretched, The capture of my double, the real leader of the marauders, was the only thing that saved me. After such an experi- ence, you may easily imagine that I realize the ‘ possibility that almost any man may have a dupli- cate or a double who resembles him so closely that it is extremely difficult to distinguish On, from the other. Cranch had listened coldly, calmly, yet, as it seemed, with a sort of hidden satisfaction. He _ nodded shortly as Frank finished. “Doubtless something of that sort is what hap- _ pened in this case, although I regret very much to know that I bee anywhere a duplicate who may bring discredit upon me by his actions. Evi- dently, Mr. Merriwell, es re a person of con- ‘siderable experience in life and you possess a, great deal of sound common sense. I’m one who is concerned with big affairs, and I would hardly bother to waste any time on a hobo such as you acknowledge this Bolivar to be,” fl Unconsciously, he was taking altogether too much pains in the effort wholly to banish from ~ Merry’s mind any suspicion that he knew any- Rs ats concerning the as man, me Thats all right, sir,” laughed Frank, “For- get it. It seems “to be a matter of no consequence whatever. I’m glad that we met, sir. Miss Al- magoro, my kindest regards and my best wishes. I fear we have interrupted your ¢ dinner, for which. IT apologize and express’ regret.” _ She smiled on him in a charming and bewitth- ing manner, which held in it something of the languor of the South, luring, yet tinged with a warning of possible unfathomed danger. _ Oh, it was really delightful to meet some one here in Denver,” she said, “You know this is he second time I’ve ever been here. Mr. Cranch las peculiar ideas about the perils of city lifé for girls, and he took the utmost pains to place me; in a boarding-scl 1001 that was almost as strict ‘as a : ent. You can’t imagine how. much Please. WEEKLY. 13 [ find in getting out into the world and meeting people.” “My dear,” said her guardian grimly, “when I promised José Almagoro, your dying father, that I would care for you as if you were my own daughter, | meant it. | have sought to keep that pledge.” \ | Merry and Bruce now excused themselves, Frank signed the dinner check and they left the dining-room. Although he did not look back, Merry felt ab- solutely certain that their departure was watched by three pairs of eyes, and that in that trio one person, at least, felt no small satisfaction over the cleverness with which their minds had seem- ingly been disabused of the idea that John Trace and John Cranch were one and the same indi- vidual. CHAPTER VIL. MERRY’S PLAN. . “Merry,” said Browning, in a low tone as they crossed the broad tiled floor, “whether that man’s name is Cranch or Trace or something else, he was the one who came to the T-Bar.” “I haven't the slightest doubt of it, Bruce. After yow appeared s atisfied that there must be a mistake, after you had seemed to accept his state- ment as truthful, he took altogether too much pains in seeking to banish any doubt he fancied might linger in your mind.” f Mert iwell, that man is a scoundrel and a schemer,” “T sized him up asa conscienceless rascal.” “What do you make of the girl?’ “She’s a problem. Bf her,” “She lied, F “rank, or dle he has hypnotized ; her, probably the latter.” ; “Tn stating that her guardian had lately. brought her on from the Rast, yes, I believe she was forced to prevaricate,”’ “She may have lately come from the Fast, but J since that man was at the T-Bar he hasn’t had — suff cient time to make such a journey himself.” S “T don’t believe he has.” -*T know he hasrt't. get hold of Bill Bolivar.” ‘There lies a mystery that we minst solve.” “We've, got to keep track of Cranch. | 4, pk x onar ‘geet xe . se . ee oa Samson hw teen at Oak tee el eb ae ake Veils vg Ra Lind “ sea SS etek SS i il alata la ia ee a a i aes cele: set thoroughbred cold- blooded = T don’ t ney W Juke to ae igs The point that puzzles me is why any one should take so much trouble to aE a wish to find Bolivar, we mustn’t let that man Bive us s the slip, Merry. He tryst be watched.” + . Sete Cra at Saks ie ation, 25 TIP TOP WEEKLY. “Fe shall be,” nodded Frank; “but still, ’m of the opinion that he will not lead us to Bolivar.” “Why not?” ‘Because he’s on his guard. , It is probable that he will fancy he’s being “shadowed, and. he will try to fool us.” “What can we do?” They had paused not far from one of the ele- wators, and Frank stood thinking for a few brief seconds, a slight frown on his face. “Tt is best to let Cranch believe he is watched,” Merry finally decided. W hy should you do that?” “In order that he may help us by seeking to throw us off the scent.” “IT don’t see how that scheme is going to work.” “Leave it to me, Bruce. If he fancies we've put spotters on him, he will think it the easiest thing in the world to deceive us by misleading ‘those spotters. He will give his entire attention and craft to the task. In the meantime, we will watch the girl and King Hump.” “Oh, it's not likely the girl knows anything about it.” “Not-likely, but still. possible.” “And as for old Humphrey——” “Bruce, there’s asman who is planning to put into operation a. big money-making scheme through which a great many people will be de- frauded.” “The government ought to squelch that.” “Perhaps the government would only for the fact that Humphrey Spaulding has the goods. By this I mean that he owns just what he claims to own, these tracts of semi-arid or arid lands, which, through irrigation, may be made to blos- som like the rose. He’s going to construct huge irrigation works, so that those who do purchase his lands and settle upon them may exist, pos- sibly may prosper. ,At the same time he will coin money out of his water privileges. Those who purchase land of him with the idea that the mere ownership of that land is going to give them an income will be deceived. ” “The ones who make partial payments on such land must become discouraged in time, and large -numbers of them will finally abandon their pur* chases by ceasing to pay the gnstalments, which action, according to contracts signed by them, will cause the Jand to revert to Spaulding. In this manner he will make a few barrels of money. Some of that land undoubtedly will be sold over ‘and over several times. In the end, should he tose possession of it, he will have received for it several times its maximum value. ' Still, unless his statements concerning the assured income that will come from the property are proven to be false and the government takes up the matter, it is not probable he will run up against a stump. If he were contemplating selling his land to wealthy parties, or even people with moderate wealth, he would be far more liable to find him- self involved in difficulties, as such individuals, on discovering themselves deceived, might make a noise over it and institute suits against him. Such persons as purchase on the instalment plan will not have either the influence or the money to bring suit or otherwise embarrass him. There’s where his craftiness will stand him in good stead, and that’s why he prefers to sell the land in small sections to instalment buyers.” “But I don’t see what this has to do with us or with old Bolivar. Do you?” “I’m not quite ready to answer that question, Bruce; but I will admit that I have a suspicion which may prove worthless and unfounded. Bruce, I’m going to phone a certain private de- tective in Denver. who once did some work for me. If he’s still in the city I shall seek an in- terview with him at once. I’m going to let this man shadow John Cranch. In the meantime, you and I will take a little trip southward.” “Do as you think best, Frank. W hen you eet ready to explain all your plans to me you will find me prepared to listen.” It was Browning’s custom to trust Frank fully in any matter of importance without displaying tog much curiosity or inquisitiveness, for he knew that Merry would always explain matters at the time when he thought best. | ‘Go up to the room, Bruce,” said Frank. going to telephone the detective right away. Vil join you later.’ Merriwell entered a_ telephone-booth, Browning took the elevator. In his room the big fellow lighted his briar- wood pipe and smoked while he busied his mind over the somewhat singular affair which had _ brought Merriwell on from Bloomfield to meet — him there in Denver. Merriwell was gone much longer than Brown- ing had thought he would be, and finally the big — fellow’s S pipe was smoked out. Ce a certainly takes him a long while to do that | phoning,” he muttered, as he rose and placed the ~ ‘pipe on a table. “Tm getting a bit uneasy about him, Think I’ll look after him:’” The hotel orchestra was bale and many guests who had finished oe nee laying on the Gene: ‘aad, @ Bes ELD? BOP at > could be seen seated on the various balconies, lis- tening to the music. “Bruce sauntered forth and | started toward the elevator. Ere he reached it a solitary girl on one of the settees glanced up at a him and Spoke. He halted, finding himself looking: down: into the dark eyes and smiling { face of Cuein Alma- goro. | “Oh, Mr. Brow ning, ” Jaughed the girl in that liquid voice of hers, with a faint touch of an ac- cent, “you look lonely, like myself. Mr. Cranch had to attend to some business‘with Mr. Spauld- ing, and, of course, my presence wasn’t required. Therefore, I came out here to hear the music and watch the people. After being buried in a _boarding-school, this is perfectly de slightful and exciting. But it’s lonesome, I’ve been wishing for some one to talk to me.’ siya She moved over a bit and invited him to sit down by an irresistible glance of those wonderful _ eyes, and ere he realized what he was doing he -. found himself at her side. =o cae gig ok Re e oe <2 CHAPTER VIII. BEAUTY IN: DISTRESS. Browning wondered how he got there, and was ‘amazed at himself for being there. As on he was embarrassed, and he felt big and cumber- some in the presence of this sy Iphlike, dainty g girl + with the dangerous eyes. ae “Do you enjoy music, Mr. asked, | . “Sure,” answered iii “T think it great.” “Are youa lover of the old masters, M maeete A sohn, Wagner, and others: Pere ries ‘W ell, | don’t know,” he confessed doubtfully. bes oe hat’ sort of music do you prefer?” “Ragtime suits me pretty well.” “Oh?” she br eathed, her fine lips parted and a -giint of merriment in those eyes. “I presume you're: joking ?” ; | ' “Not at all. T’ve never pursued grand opera a great deal. In the old days at Yale I tised to i prefer ‘Boola,’ ‘Solomon Levi,’ ‘Down Went Me- _ Ginty,’ and little melodies of that-sort.” f 2 don’t think I’ve heard any of them.” - “Say, you don’t know what you've missed! It’s simply great to hear the band playi ing ‘Boola’ and Browning?” she ‘they are worth. It makes one’s blood tingle and ives him a sort of tickly feeling all up and down his spine. I don’t sing much myself, you know, is a used to bear ee on eet ‘chorus ae Solo- old estate was seized by the dominant party. My him off from water and ruined him. to recover damages, and Mr. Cranch acted as his lawyer, but the big men had-all the money and that my father was poor’ when ‘he: died. eight or ten thousand students singing it for all _ with him, and that’s how I came to grow up, as. now holds possession of the land that once be- WEEKLY. is out under the campus elms and warble that song. | suppose I’m rather old-fashioned in my ways, but none of these new fangled pieces like ‘Rain- in-the-face’.or ‘I’m Afraid to-Go Home-in the Dark’ ever hit me- the same as-‘Solomon Levi’ and ‘Down Went McGinty.’ I’ve got a kid up at the T-Bar who whistles ‘The Merry Widow Waltz’ until | want to murder him.” “That’s one of the modern tunes that I think very pretty indeed,” said Otero. “Do you waltz?” ; “Do I! Would you éxpect an elephant to waltz?” “Dear me, no! But you’re not an elephant.” “Pretty near it”. "am “Didn't you ever waltz?” | “Oh, I’ve plowed into, it on a few occasions when I couldn’t escape. I’m the champion mess- maker at waltzing. Usually climb all over my. partner’s feet and tread on her. skirts if it’s pos- sible. Just think of having two hundred and thirty plant its hoof on your dainty foot.” She laughed softly, musically, delightfully, and glanced down. “Would you believe it,” she said confidentially, “until 1 went to boarding-school I scarcely knew what it was to wear a'shoe on my dainty feet 2’ ‘ “You don’t say? What did you wear f -‘Riding-boots or. moccasins.” “Then you ride, do you?” “Oh, yes. I might say that I was almost brought up in the “saddle. My father’ was a vaquero, you know.” : “No, I didn’t know, Miss Almagoro.” : “Ves, he was a Spanish gentleman of good family, ‘but he had to leave Spain. on account of - some political trouble.. The Almagoro fortune had been dissipated in this political strife, and the father came to this country a young man, and penniless. He had to live, and so he went into | the cattle business. At one time he owned a lit- tle ranch, but the big cattlemen came and ‘cut He sought | the advantage, and the case dragged out year after year without ever coming to anything, so. After coming to this country he married, but rhy mother died when I. was very small. My father kept me I have told you, in the saddle. - Mr. Spaulding _ longed to José Almagoro. Odd as ‘it may seem tT SLOP since- Il was a child 1 have not seen him until very recently. My guardian still hopes to get something out of that land. He has done a oreat deal of legal business for Mr. Spaulding, and they are discussing affairs of that sort now.” “It kind of seems to me that you’re between two fires, .Miss Almagoro.” “How is that?” “Why, your guardian is the agent of old Hump : Spaulding, and his interests might prevent him Bde from pushing your own case very hard.” | “Perhaps you're right,” said the girl seriously. “lve thought of that myself. Still, I’m not wor- rying over it while there’s something else of far more serious importance to trouble me.” _ Browning glanced sidewise at her and observed that-all the merriment had faded from her face and that she really jooked troubled and worried. He was smitten by a sudden pang of sympathy, and sympathy is always perilous in such a situa- tion. “So you're in trouble ?’’ he said somewhat awk- wardly. °“I’m-sorry.” . “Thank you.” “If there’s anything I can do—— She shook her head. “Nothing,” she asserted. “I was very much interested in your friend, Mr. Merriwell. What has become of him?” | “Oh, he had some business to look after before he left for his mines.” “When does he expect to leave?” ‘To-morrow, I reckon, if he can get away.’ “Wasn't it singular that a.man w tho looked so much like Mr. Cranch- should come to your ranch?” eS a “Mighty singular,” nodded Bruce. “And you don’t think this man really wanted to buy the ranch?” “Nix; that was all bluff,” K 5 “What could have been his object ?” | _. “Ask me! I beg your pardon,” he added quickly, as he saw her glance at him in surprise. “T did ask you,” she said... “Excuse the slang, Miss Almagoro. By that _ Isimply meant that ‘T couldn’t answer your ques- > 4 ee to you, 39 “Tell me about this man you call Bolivar, who went away with the one w ho gave his name as _ John Trace, thé one who looked so much like Mr. Cranch.” “Not much to tell about him.” , Was he poor?” : WEEKLY. “The limit. He didn’t have a dollar of his own in the wide world save what he had earned, or, rather, what Merriwell generously agreed to give him, for his services on the T-Bar.” “Then there could be no object in those men luring him away from the ranch. It may be that he accompanied them of his own accord.” “Looks that way, doesn’t it?” Suddenly the girl put a question that made Srowning start. | “Is Mr. Merriwell married?’ “Very much so,” answered Bruce solemnly. — “Too bad,’ she half-whispered, half-mur- mured. “Eh? ‘Too bad?” “I don’t know when I’ve ever seen any one whom I felt I could trust as he might be trusted. It was strange, but the moment I saw him | said to myself that should I need a friend I might ap- peal to him and be sure that he would’ answer that appeal.” } “You can figure on it now. sort of a man he is.” “But he’s married.” “T don’t see what difference that makes. He’s a square man, a whole man, a man who is on the level. If you really are in serious trouble, Miss Almagoro, just let us know about it. If you have scruples about appealing to a married man, why what’s the matter with me?” “You're not married?” A “Great Scott, no! Married? Not on’ your life! ve been lucky enough to avoid any such a calamity.”’ ' . She could not help smiling. “Then you really consider it a calamity?” “For some people, yes; for a man like Merri- well, no. ‘The right sort of a man is only half a man without a wife. A wife gives him an in- centive in life, something to work for, something to fight for, something to brace him up and re- fine him and bring out the best that is in him.” “But if this is true of some men, why isn’t i true of others?” _ “Oh, there miserable. world. Set in my ways, That’s just the — e are men who are such selfish crea- _ tures that they would be sure to make a woman ~ I’m one of that kind. Yes, I:amiy ~ I’m just about the most selfish) lazy brute in the you understand. It © would give me a chill to thirk that I'd. gotten change my ways and habits to correspond with those of a decent married man. Women like so-_ ciety. ‘They like afternoon teas and musicales and oe tp rt < aera * + t I ro Coombs eyed the approaching riders with an ex- pression of doubt and surprise on his leathery face. “T sure allow I don’t recognize any one in that bunch,” he observed. “Thar’s a couple o’ Injuns and two white men. Anybody here ever see ’em before?” | \ _. The men who heard his siuedtica surveyed the : approaching four, and no one made an immedi- ate answer. ; | . . Otero Almagoro uttered a low cry of surprise _ and wondering delight and rode to meet the ap- _ proaching strangers. The steer brought up by the: tires coabows somehow succeeded: in. freeing itself from the WEEKLY. rope and got away at this very moment. The animal fled with speed almost equal to that of a trained race-horse. The watching cowboys shouted, and some of them made for their horses to pursue the steer. Otero heard their cries and glanced round. The steer was coming. She had 1 no fear of the animal, but was prepared to get away in case it cha reed at her. That was precisely what happened. I[nfuri- ated and crazed, the creature made straight for the girl. With a word and a gentle touch of the rein, Otero caused her horse to whirl to one side. Nevertheless, she was quite unprepared for what happened. ‘The horse Pd into a hole of — some sort and went down. With marvelous pres- ence of mind, the girl freed her feet from the stirrups and leaped clear. The mad steer was right upon her. A pistol cracked. A single shot was fired. The bullet flew straight and was deadly. It entered the eye of the steer and touched thé animal’s brain. The beast plunged to the. eround and lay still, | quivering slightly. Dust and dirt was flung over Otero Almagoro by the body of the animal as it struck the earth. Nearly a dozen cowboys were coming, and one had swung his rope to make a desperate cast when that death-shot stopped the steer. It was apparent to every One that the bullet which slew the animal had probably saved the life of the girl. . _ That shot had been fired by a young man in chaps and cowboy clothes, one of the two white | men composing the quartet of strangers. He ~ ‘had spurred his horse forward at full speed on wg perceiving the peril of the girl, pulled a heavy » pistol. and fired with marvelous precision and — astonishingly satisfactory result... The ‘other white man, a big, fine-looking specimen of man- — hood, was close at the side of the one who had killed the steer. Both of them leaped from their. horses and spoke to the girl, who displayed great — nerve and self-possession ee what ee happened. They were Frank Merriwell and Bruce Brown- ing. ( It was Pract whose weapon had sent that bul : let true on its mission of death. . Browning seized the girl’s hands, literally quivering with excitement, his face ashen. ety Wie Heaven!” he said puskethys “that was a 3 ‘ELP POR | close call. My heart was in my mouth. Otero ——-Miss Almagoro, had we arrived two minutes _ _later—I can’t bear to think of what might have happened.” | She laughed, permitting him to hold fast’ to both her hands. “T might have been killed,” she said: ‘TI owe tes you-my life.” rp = “Not me. It was Frank who did the trick. i _ There’s no better pistol-shot in America.” CHAPTER XI. THE MAN WHO COULD SHOOT. _ The cowboys who had reac hed them and gath- ered around heard that statement and surveyed Frank Merriwell somewhat incredulously. Et suire was a right lucky chance shot,” said Santa Fé Tom. “The gent t couldn’t br ing down - a running steer that way in tw enty times trying.’ ee “I’m not so sure of that,’ ' said Bat Kearney. 7° “He's Frank ete — “Well, who in blazes is Frank Merriwell ?” “He’s a gent with a record... This is the first time I’ve ever seen him shoot, but my old friend, Colonel Ingraham, once told me that Frank Mer- ‘riwell could be champion of the world with the colonel certainly was a judge of. shooting: He _ even rated this yere Merriwell some higher than Doctor Frank Powell.” Santa Fé Tom sneered. “1 hope you don’t mean’ to say you consider that shot any thing more than a chance, Kear- ney?” he questioned. ocx OU heard my opinion, Santa Fé. * Kearnéy turngd his back on the doubter. and shook hands with Merry. pit “Your appearance hereabouts is some unex- pected,” he said. “TY presume so,” smiled Pranic” Spaulding’ s ranch, isn’t it?” eMSure.” “He recently gave me a cordial invitation to “This is cided to take him at his word. its a great pleasure to meet you again.” : he two thdtens who had ice eee the new arrivals sat stolidly on their horses near-by. One was a oe Tah bu the B pees nese y's VP rey WEEKLY. 23 ‘again?’ peared inside the 1 _ pistol if he ever went out for the honor, and the ‘left eye. Tom: “but still, I call it a chance shot. Kearney says you can shoot, a whole lot skilful. visit him here, and, being down this way, I de- mits you're a better man than he is. Would you Miss Almagoro, mind seeing how many balls you can break. out of ae this t nae Browning ia come to his senses | pose of giving a fe reckon. fae easy that’ S as good as straight and apparently strong, had the time- scarred face of an aged warrior. ‘The latter was old Joe Crowfoot. Merry and Browning had un- expectedly met Crowfoot and one of his tribe away down there in New Mexico far from the reservation of old Joe’s people. “It seems like a dream, Mr. Merriwell,” laughed Otero. “I can hardly realize that you are here—you and Mr. Browning.” “Didn't I tell you that we would see you smiled Bruce. Bill Coombs came up and was introduced to Merriwell by Bat Kearney. Frank introduced Browning. | King Hump had seen and recognized Merry and Bruce, but, instead of hastening to greet them, he swore beneath his breath ‘and disap- ranch-house. “Mebbe you’ye struck the Crown at a time when accommodations will be somewhat limited, gents,’ said Coombs. “This is the spring round- up, which begins to-morrow, and we're taking care of people from every ranch in this region. hereabouts.’”’ “N ever mind the accommodations,” smiled , Frank. “I think we can take our chances with the rest of the boys.” ‘ “Tf you won’t be offended none,’’ said Santa Fé Tom, butting i in, “I'd like to ask you one ques- ee ‘Tet it drive,” entouraged Frank. | “Don’t you allow yourself that you killed that _ steer by a chance shot?” — “Tt must have seemed like a chance shot,” nodded Merry. “I think I hit the creature in the At any rate, | aimed for its eye. You know a bullet might have carronied off the bull’ ee skull without stopping the animal’ s Saree eri “You certain hit it in the left. eye,’ " admitted ‘ Bat pees ed ice Sr es ae aac fe ae 9? a ten aes Bee LST eee te ai ‘ ¢ aa oee wee Bat, he was jest a-going to give us a little exhi- bition of glass-ball shooting from horseback. | We've. got the balls in this yere basket. Bat ad-— a lot of forty-eight: ss Frank was amused. ag certainly didn’t visit the Crown for the pli a shooting | exhibition,” he aan “T hope you will excuse me.” ; AG “Thar!” cried Santa Fé, turning to eaatnell ie an admission that he knows he killed the steer by accident.” “But I won’t admit nothing of the sort,” drawled Kearney. “If he doesn’t want to give a shooting exhibition, that’s his business. But I still believe he could satisfy your doubts a whole lot if he chose to do so.” “T’ll bet my saddle he can’t break twelve straight balls while riding at a gallop,’ an- nounced Tom. “Tf he will shoot, Ill bet yours,’ nodded Bat. “Just: by way of ending cussion,” smiled Frank, balls, but there’s to be no wager. to call that off.” Santa Fé chuckled. “He ain't a-bubbling over with confidence any- how,” he muttered. ‘‘He knows well enough that Bat’d lose his saddle.”’ Accompanied by Browning, Otero Almagoro was leading her slightly limping pony away, for one of the cowboys had cut the steer’s, throat, and the flowing blood was unpleasant to see. Ten minutes later a group of cowboys had assembled some distance from the spot where the steer fell and were waiting to see Merriwell shoot. Frank had his own pair of Colts revoly- ers, and, having made sure the cylinders were in perfect wo rking condition, he nodded to the young Indian to whom the basket, now contain- ing twelve glass balls, had been given. The Indian, astride his own horse, set forth at a gentle gallop. Merriwell sprang into the saddle and followed. “Faster !” he called. The Indian’s horse increased its speed at once. “Faster !’’ cried Frank, touching his own horse gently with the spur. In another moment both he and the Indian ahead of him were riding at a fast pace. Merry got into position directly behind the young red- skin and drew his pistol. “Now!” he called. The Indian, without turning his head, thrust his hand into the basket and ‘beg gan tossing the balis straight upward into the air over his head. Merriwell fired and smashed the first ball into a puff of powdered glass. Bat Kearney laughed, and while he was still my saddle agin’ any argument or dis- “Tl try it with twelve - laughing Frank continued to shoot at, the balls, which were rapidly tossed high into the air by _ the Indian. With each sharp report a'glass ball was shivered into a thqusand bits. He emptied TIP: TOP WEEKLY. You will have. you're here. one of his pistols without a single miss and whipped the other forth from its holster with such quickness and skill that he was able to con- tinue firing with no perceptibly lengthened space of time between the shots. Almost before the spectators realized it, he had fired twelve times and smashed twelve glass balls. The Indian reined his horse round and rode toward the group of speetators, Frank swinging alongside. “Mebbe you’re some satisfied now, said Kearney. Santa Fé Tom twisted his face into a (juicer ex- pression. “IT sure am,” he admitted. “A gent what can smash twelve without a miss wlile riding that fashion ought to be able to smash a hundred. That thar’s a might good saddle you’ve won, Bat. I think as much of it as I would of my owr brother if I had one; but I ain’t no squealer.” “It was. distinctly understood,” said Frank, “that the wager was off. I’d not done any shoot- ing otherwise.” “That’s right,” stood it that way. Santa Fé,” nodded Kearney. Keep your saddle, Santa Fé.” Otero’s eyes were glowing with a light of ad- miration and pride. “Isn't Mr. Merriwell bre athed. “Yep,” agreed Browning, “he is; but don’t for- get that he’s married.” | “You must both come to the ranch now,” the girl. “I don’t think Mr. He will be glad to see you.” sauntering out as they wonderful!’ she said King Hump came reached the yeranda. “Why, how are ye?” he cried, with a pretense of surprise. “Is it you, Merriwell? Well, swear, this is unexpected. However does it ape >? ’ \ pen! | “I took you at your word,” smiled Frank, leap- ing from his horse. “You gave mean invitation, and here I am,\along with Browning.” Spaulding descended the steps and shook hands with them both. “T certain wish I’d known he said. “Every bunk is took. Mebbe I can turn some of the boys out to make room for oe “Don’t think of it,” said Merry. “We wouldn’ i make any inconvenience for the world. Theta will be plenty of room for us elsewhere. We have our blankets, and we can find beds outside the house, Mr. Spaulding.” \ “Tl under-- Spaulding knows. you was coming,” and corner in the ranch _ At tee This seemed to relieve King Hump, although he made a pretense of feeling very much cut up over his inability to offer better accommodations. They sat on the veranda and talked as the sun slipped Gown toward the western horizon. Out behind the corral the steer had_ been | skinned and cut up and given out to the various 4 ~—SCS cooks from the different ranches. Fires were ) _ beginning to send wreathing curls of smoke to- Wi. ward the sky from a dozen, different points. He “It will be good sport to take pot luck with the i} = cowboys,” laughed Merry; “and I’m sure we'll # — enjoy the excitement of the round-up.” a. Otero had given her pony over to a cowboy, tw while the horses belonging to Frank and Bruce 4: had been. led away by the young Indian. The , girl entered the house to change her clothes for garments more appropriate to her sex. After a a time Spaulding excused himself and followed aE foes: her, =), SCO“ We're none too welcome here, Mer ry, mur- eee mured Bruce guardedly. “We've upset the old - man’s calculations by maine in such an unex- ia a pected manner.” hae “Never mind,’ nodded Merriwell. ‘We're here, and he can’t shake us without absolute rude- _ hess.” King Hump reappeared a few minutes later and said that Miss Almagoro had told him of her adventure. “She’s sonie broke up now,” he stated. “She didi’ t notice it much at the time, but it was‘a strain on her nerves just the same. [| don't reckon you'll see any more of her to-night.” _ Fratk and Bruce exchanged glances. Brown- ing started to speak, but closed his lips and re- _. frained. -» Certainly the hospitality of the Crown was not - What they might have expected, for that night _ they ate beside their own campfire, with Crow- foot and his Indian comrade as companions. Their horses grazednear at hand. ‘Their _ campfire was one of the many that glowed on the plain in front of the ranch-house. low tones of Otero Almagoro, while old Joe Crowfoot silently smoked his pipe near-by. Ap- parently the aged Indian was busied with his own thoughts, but in truth he heard every word that was spoken by Merriwell and Browning, though he had asked no questions, old Joe al- ready knew a great deal concerning the cause nto. that country of the Canadian. WEEKLY. ‘very comfortable. ward the fire. but Browning sat frowning at the flames and Supper over, Frank and Bruce sat talking’ in, Al-— that had brought Frank and Bruce down there. \ shadowy figure came slipping through the ie irry gloom and halted near- by. It was Joe, the Mexican. “What do you want?” asked Frank. “T come to see if there’s anything the sefiors want,” said the Mexican. ‘Mr. Spaulding he send me.” “Go back and tell-Mr. Spaulding that we are We have our blankets, and we'll get along finely.” ' Without a word, the Mexican turned and de- parted. , ““They’re keeping watch over us, Frank,” whis- pered Browning} “Still, I don’t think they’ re watching us very closely,” said Frank. “They simply want to make sure that we're here.” “T don’t believe we'll be allowed to put eyes on Otero again. If that old scoundrel tries to keep me from seeing her, there’s going to be an argu- ment.” “Go slow and be careful, Bruce. Don’t forget that I, as well as you, have an object in HS here.’ “You'll never find Bolivar hereabouts.” “Perhaps not; but I have hopes of getting track of him just the same.’ Browning was uneasy and found it impossible to go to sleep at an early hour.. Around the many glimmering fires upon the plains the cow- ” boys had rolled themselves i in their blankets, for. all were aware that the entire body of men would be \astir and on the move before break of the coming day, and the work cut out for them de- nfanded that they should get as much prepara- tory rest as possible. 7 Y The young Indian wrapped his blanket about him and fell asleep almost instantly on stretch- ing himself upon the ground with his feet to- Merriwell followed his example, pulling at his dead pipe. After a time Crowfoot spoke: %: “You sleep,” he grunted. “Sleep him best thing you can get now. Joe he so old that he no need sleep. He smoke. He keep ’wake. He watch out. You trust him. No see girl some more till next time. When do see-um her, you © want to be heap aril, heap fresh, heap re ae You sleep.” “TI suppose that’s good advice, Joe,” said 3ruce. “I reckon I’ll try to take it.” 2 But it was a Jong time before he finally drifted | : at into slumber and dreams of Otero. | TIP TOP WEEKLY. CHAPTER XTi, IN THE NICK OF TIME. The burnished stars wheeling in théir courses indicated that the hour of midnight had passed when Joe Crowfoot placed a hand on Frank’s shoulder and awoke him. “What is it?” said Merr y softly, as he sat up. “Something doing,” answered the old Indian. “Joe he leave Hawke to watch. He go sneak around some short time ago. Something doing. ‘Horses all ready. We wake up big feller. We take long ride mebbe.” Frank asked no more questions, but rose at once." / A softly stirring wind moved the ashes and set a few dull embers of the fire glowing. “You wake up big feller,” directed Crowfoot. “Be sure he make no rumpus.” So Frank aroused Browning, who started up with the name of Otero on his lips. “Keep still, Bruce,” said Merry, in a whisper. “T don’t know just what’s in the wind, but Crow- - foot has been up to something. He says we’re going to take a night ride, He will explain later on. Come.” They rolled their blankets hastily and followed the silent-footed Indian, who led them away to- ward the east. “Tf we’re going to take: a ride, why don’t we get our horses, Merry?” asked Browning. “Tm leaving everything to old Joe, Bruce.” _. “But I don’t propose to run away from: the Crown Rahch to-night. Where are we going?” + Ee OtOp talking! where we are going.” At least a full mile they followed. the miys- terious Indian. Finally the faint hooting of an - owl came to their ears. iz Crowfoot. Three minutes later they deceived ol some dark | ~ forms ahead of them and heard the aes whicker _ of a horse. Some one ran toward deni Baga one deity called Browning’s name. _ Bruce impulsively clasped Otero sige taint in his arms. “Wonder of wonders? does Heimean os 41.7 ra Now are searching for a man ‘pained Bolivar,” e said the girl. “I am going to take you to him. We can talk after we are mounted and so. far 3 ay. va there will bet no maar of Dee over- fa breathed. detective astray and finally In due time we'll find out This signal was an-_ _ swered immediately in a similar manner by In another moment. “What as 2, thunder.” The young Indian was there with their horses. . . . . r 4 A pony for Otero was likewise waiting. The feet of the horses were muffled. They mounted, and Otero led them as they rode softly and silently away into the star-shot night, Not until some miles had been put behind them did they stop to remove the muffling cloths from a jl the hoofs of the horses. . “Now,” said the girl, “T’ll explain. Only yes- terday I found part of a letter in the handwri- ting of my guardian. The first sheet I did not find. I wondered if that letter was meant for me, and I read it. It was not intended for me. It had been sent to Mr. Spaulding. My guard-_ ian was in Creede, Colorado, when he wrote that letter. He told how he had been foll lowed by a detective put on his track by Mr. Merriwell and how he had fooled the detective. He gave an — account of the manner’'in which he had led the given him the slip, In that letter he spoke of W illiam Bolivar, and — he said that Bolivar was at the Bell Ranch, which > is many miles southeast from the Crown. Mr. | Bell, who owned the ranch, died a few months — ago. There has been a search for his heirs. © Mr. Spaulding wants the ranch and intends to have it. He employed Mr. Cranch to find the rightful heir to the Bell property. That person is Ww illiam Bolivar, the only son of Mr. Bell’s only sister. Mr. Cranch found Bolivar on Mr. Merriwell’s ranch in Wyoming. If possible, a ae Spaulding means ‘to get possession of. the Bell Ranch without paying anywhere near its. value—practically without paying anything at_ all. My guardian has papers ready for Bolivar to sign, and he will be induced to sign them as soon as Mr. Cranch can get to the Belle kag . “After I read that letter I got a map i this and the adjoining counties and located the Bell Ranch. I believe I can find it. . The most of the _ cowboys from that ranch are at. the Crown for the round- -up.” Frank Merriwell pete the elation he i It, although he praised the girl for her courage. © “That old guardian of yours is a double- -dyed scoundrel just the same as King Hump,” declared Browning. “You’ re done with him, Otero—Mi Almagoro, I mean.’ | sre “Done with him?” “Sure. You're done with the ‘out sche : You can’t go back to the Crow Th “Why not?” « | “Tumphrey Gey cing | ‘would raise me TIP “But I’m not afraid of him. He couldn’t hurt me. I must go back to the Crown. When I’ve found the Bell Ranch and you've found the man you seek, I’ll bid you good-by.” “T think we'll talk that over Bruce grimly. mind.” “Horses all ready,’ announced Crowfoot. “Come on. We got long trail to travel. Morn- ing he come bimeby.” Onward through the night they swept with a clattering rhythm of iron-shod ‘hoofs. a little more,” said “Perhaps you may change your > * * ok *K * 2K It was not far from noon when John Cranch, accompanied by Jim Miller, arrived at the Bell Ranch. On the veranda a cowboy sat smoking. He calmly watched the two men until they drew rein in front of the house. Then he rose to his feet, knocked the ashes from his pipe and spoke: “Howdy do, Mr. Cranch,” he said. “Didn’t expect to see you quite so soon.’ “Is the man here?” asked Cranch. “Sure. We got him all safe, and we've kept him easy by filling his skin with whisky.” “JT hope he isn’t drunk now? I want to trans- act a little business with him.”’ “Oh, mebbe he’s sober enough grinned the cowboy. “Go right in. of your horse. You'll find Beadle looking after the gent. The rest of the outfit is off to the Crown for the round-up. Just us two left here.” Cranch and Miller entered thé ranch, while for that,” the cowboy cared for their wearied horses. In a short time he had attended to the animals, and - then he made his way into the ranch-house. Old Billy Bolivar was sitting on a chair, talk- ing with John Cranch, Near at hand upon a table were spread some legal documents. On | that table there was also a stand of ink and a oe me not in mournful numbers that I must ‘sign away my patrimony,” wheezed Bolivar. “I don’t exactly understand how this patrimony ‘came to be mine, but I do know that you’ re _ mighty anxious for me to put my autograph on the bottom of that paper.” . “Tt really yours,” said Cranch smoothly. TOP WEEKLY. I'll take care 27 “You couldn’t get it by law if you tried. I’ve offered you two hundred dollars to sign the paper, and that’s practically a gift on my part.” “You're exceedingly generous,” said old Billy. “Still, ’m puzzled and doubtful. . Still, 1 hesitate. Two hundred dollars wouldn’t last me any farther than the first saloon.” “It’s better than nothing, isn’t it?” “But if I’m to get nothing, why are you so extremely anxious that I should sign the paper? I think I'll meditate on it. I’m comfortable here. I’ve been enjoying myself very well indeed. Why, I haven’t seen so much whisky before in lo, these many, many moons.” “But that’s all done now. You get no more —not another swallow—until you sign .this paper. Miller, where is your flask?” “Right here, Mr. Cranch,” said Miller, as he produced a pocket flask. “Thank ye, Jim, old pal,” said Bolivar, eagerly . reaching for the flash. Miller drew it away. “You don’t git none of dat till de boss says so,” he growled. : ‘What, ho!” cried old Billy. “Is it one of the noble brotherhood of hoboes who refuses to give a drink to a pal in distress? Impossible! Jimmy, my coppers are hot. My tank is sizzling. I shall blow up unless I can have a drink. Look,’ pal, I give you the sign of distress. You can’t, refuse to recognize the sign.” “Go on, Boliv ar. Dat don’t cut no ice wit’ me now.” “Ts it possible?” murmured old Billy. “Why, : ¢ when you came to the T- Bar and gave me the sign I recognized it, didn’t 1?” “Not much you didn’t. You tried to keep a away from me, You tried to hide. If it hadn’t _ been for de booze you'd never had nutting tO do wit’ me, pal. I’m gittin’ even now.” | Bolivar tried to moisten his parched bee, with — his tongue. dt: “You're cruel,” he said, “cruel as—as—as. : whisky. I’ll have the shakes if you don’t give me just one drink, Jim.” : “Sign mat paper for de boss and you can have me flask. & 22 MPP TorPr Old Billy passed his hand across his eyes. “And two hundred dollars besides,” said Cranch, producing money and flinging it on the table. “That will buy enough stuff to keep you soaked for a long time. , Come, man, sign. Here’s the pen. Sit up to the table.” “If I wasn’t sick,” said Bolivar, as he rose un- steadily from his chair and took the one at the table, “I’d never doit. You're taking advantage of a sick man, gentlemen. Give me the pen. Dip it in the ink for me, please. My hand is shaking.” With an icy smile of satisfaction, Cranch caught up the pen and reached to dip it in the ink. | Outside the nearest window a pistol cracked. A bullet struck the inkstand and shattered it into a thousand pieces, spattering the ink over the hand of John Cranch and the clothes of old Billy Bolivar. — The men in-that room wheeled to face the win- dow. Frank Merriwell was there, a smoking pistol in his grasp. “Up with your ‘hands, every one of yout!’ he cried. “Up with them!” The door of the room flew open and Brtitce ‘Browning entered, followed closely by two Ind-— ians. ALSO, Vas. ro pared. Browning likewise had a pistol ready for {?? hoist your paws, John Cranch! “Put them up, everybody!” he They obeyed, all of them—with the exception - of old Billy Bolivar. Miller had placed the flask - ttpon the table. ‘Old Billy feached for it, seized it, qutiveringly unscrewed its cap, tipped it to his* lips, and in the silence of the moment they heard _ the liquid gurgling down his throat, a gees frei the Bell Ranch rode Mertiwell, , es iia the two Indians, and old. Billy Bo- _livar, se to four chairs. WEEKLY. Otero was waiting in a little valley about a | mile from the ranch. Her eyes were bright as — she saw them approaching with Bolivar clinging to a saddle in their midst. “Ts th at the man you were seeking, Mr. Mer- riwell?’’ she cried. “The very man,” found him barely in the nick of time.” Merry and Browning had decided not to tell her of the plight of John Cranch. They thought best not to let her know then that they had found her guardian at the Bell Ranch. “Now,” said Otero; “now we must part. must go back to the Crown.” | But her voice faltered as she spoke and her eyes sought those of Browning. “No,” “you shall not go back there! You must come with. us. Trust me, trust me. you shall never regret it. of a man to devote my life to you. come—won’t you come, Otero?” answered Frank, ‘and we he cried, Won't ae He held out his hand as he uttered choses ed words, which, although spoken prasiney had | something of confidence in them. wl Her own hand went out to meet his. | “Yes, Bruce,” she whispered; “yes, I'll conte | ; Vil trust you!’ i “Heap, good!” grunted old “Heap sensible young squaw. ‘tracks some more.” , THE END. The Next Number (675) Will/Gontain. oe ' OR, The Result of the Spring ae Wits Behind them they left eure men securely “Those gentlemen will get along very well for ae the next twenty-four hours or so,’ “AS soon as we are safely away r ll send. word their Pheht to pea ing Beate. ’ said Frank. Otero I pledge you the honor of a manthat =} ~ I pledge you the honor Joe Crowfoot. ,- Now we make » 4 Ties TOP NEW YORK, March 13, 1909. TERMS TO TIP TOP WEEKLY MAIL SUBSCRIBERS. (Postage Free.) Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5c. Each. S months ,.--.-.----5-- see ene 65¢e. | One year 4 months 85c. | Z copies ONE VEAP. ..se.ececeee'e 4) i MA GHEM Bis atin cediceoesavt ’ >» Proprietors. Grorce C. Swi, { pr ————— = ———— ———————————— TIP TOP ROLL OF HONOR. sip Following the suggestion of Mr. Burt L, Standish, that appeared in his letter to Tip Top readers in No. 480, the following loyal Tip Toppers have won for themselves a place on our Honor Roll for their efforts to increase the circulation of the King of Weeklies. Get inline, boys and girls, and strive to have your name at the head of the list, , Clarence R. Sawyer, Canal Zone, Panama. Roy Lincoln, Colorado. John Anson Lee, New York City. _ Chas. C. Wimbish, North Carolina. -L, M. Harmon, Indiana. | Harry H. Barrow, New York. Joseph J. McMahon, New York City. Donald Hendricks, Indiana. _ Walter A. House, Pennsylvania, ‘L. G. Tackaberry, Toronto, Canada. - The names of othet enthusiastic Tip Toppers will be added from time to time. Send in the result of your efforts to push the circula- tion of your favorite weekly and win a place on the Roll of Honor. _ APPLAUSE. Owing to the large number of letters received, the editor of Tip ‘Top cannot undertake to secure their publication under six weeks. Those who contribute to this department must not expect to see them before that time, FREE POST CARDS—Any boy who writes us, telling why he loves Tip Tor, and what the magazine has done for him, as Well ; what he is doing on his part to increase its circulation, will, upon qu st, receive'a-set of six fine post cards of the principal characters in \ ——__—_ Top Weekly Post Card Offer.” t A fae ‘ i : i a (A letter from Louisiana.) ” I am a stanch friend of “Tip Top” because it has done so for me; it holds such a good influence over me; it helps o stand up for what is right; it has shown me many things that I should not do; it has proven, beyond a reasonable doubt, that a person becomes just what he makes himself; it roveti tinquestionably that a person becomes, cleaner in “swearing. . min 1 and body by refraining from drinking intoxicants, smoking, at t has, besides, demonstrated to me the fact that a boy is | ip Top free by mail. Be very sure and address your letters ‘Editor Tip — Top” on. buttons. WEEKLY. 36 never too bad to reform, and also that one is mever too wise to learn. It has proven that in the end fright shall win against might, no matter what the odds may be. As for the characters of our beloved “Tip Top,” they are mostly good, clean, upright, moral, and intelligent young men and boys, and the girls are ail that one could wish. If ever an author has done justice to the American woman, Mr, Standish is “the. man.” IT want to see a “Tip Top” in every home, and I will make a list of all my friends and send them a “Tip Top” for Xmas. I.am doing all I can to further the circulation. of the “Boys’ Salvation Weekly,” “Tip-—fop.” I would like to express my. views of all the characters; but space is valuable and applicants are many, so I take off my hat to the next sensible young man, or beautiful young Jassie, who is proud to be one of us and have her or his “say so.” I am yours forever, WASHINGTON SOLOMON. Apparently you have eftumerated about all of the virtues even the most ardent lover of “Tip Top” could claim for the magazine, and we salute you, son, as a sincere friend, indeed. This being my third year with “Tip Top,’ I think it is time I should write. My one desire has been to be a second Frank Merriwell. I like best Frank, Bart, and Bruce... Of Dick’s set my favorites are Dick, Brad, and Hal Darrell. I desire to extend my best wishes for a long life to Burt L, and also to a continuous publication of good ‘old “Tip Top.” Yours sincerely, Cincinnati, Ohio. LESTER THARP. Thank you. Not having seen any letters from Virginia, I will try to write one to let-you know that we are loyal to the king of weeklies, which is “Tip Top.” I have been reading “Tip Top” fot the last six years, and I am glad to say of all the publications I have read I like “Tip Top” the best, and I ain also ‘glad to say that I have converted some of the boys to feading “Tip Top.” I like all of the characters. Here’s to the health of all concerned in thé good work; may you have a happy New-year. From a:true Tip Topper, Ernest DUNSTON. All of which we appreciate. very mitch, and reciprocate our young friend’s good wishes for’a prosperous year. ; (A letter from Ohio.) , I have been reading “Tip Top” for over two years, and I think it the best five-cent weekly published. I get them every week. I have also read nearly all of the ten-cent Medal. Library about Frank Merriwell. I would sooner shake hands with Merry than with the President of the United States or the King of England. “Tip Top” has cured me of smoking ‘and drinking, I have induced. two other boys to read them also. 1. will close with best wishes to “Tip Top,’ Burt L., and Street & Smith. _RAy WHEELER Good for you,.son. A’ boy who is not ashamed to stand up and be counted is bound to get there. “Tip Top” is engaged in . a labor of love, while pointing out to our fine American lads the benefits’ that inevitably spring from clean minds and healthy, oy robust bodies. Being a constant reader of “Tip Top,” I take the privilege of | writing a few lines about my favorite magazine. % It cannot be surpassed by any book, magazine, or anything of its kind. — . joan Te oe I’ started reading “Tip Top” three years ago, beginning with “Dick Merriwell; Freshman,” After that not a week passed that’ I did not buy a “Tip Top.” I have also, read several books in the Medal Library. y Paha ee ity fayorites are: Dick, Frank, Ready, and Lem Stover of the — ‘T-Bar. hy Now.1 will be a kind of a mateh-maker; I think Darrell and Doris, and Dick and June ought to be uttited for life. _ 1 think that Street & Smith ought to make arrangements with some button-factoty to have the Baeliiet charactets of the “Tip These characters would be: Dick, June, Frank, Frank, Jr, Brad, Bart, Inza, Doris and a few. others. . These buttons would be given to boys subscribing for the “Tip x ATP LOE ceryee f Top,” or sold for, say, ten cents; thus the “Tip would havea picture of ‘their favorite on a buiton. The University of Wisconsin is located here. Twenty. per cent. of the boys read “Tip Top.” Why not have a coupon in each “Tip Top” for some time, so the boys could vote on some university or college that they would have Dick graduate from. Mr. Standish has had Frank graduate from Yale, Dick three years there, and I think he ought to give some of us other boys a chance to follow Dick up in our own town. The boys of New Haven are having too good a time of it; so, Mr. Standish, please give us Western boys a chance to read about Dick in our own part of the “good old U. S. A,” Hoping my suggestions may meet the approval of Street & Smith, Mr. Standish, and the Western Tip Toppers, I will close. Madison, Wis. “A Mapisonran Tre Topper.” We have printed your letter in full, fhiend, and while the Button idea might appeal to boys, if there was a picture of Frank or Dick upon it, we hardly see how Dick could give up Yale and graduate from any other college. s lop” readers (A letter from the Keystone State.) I wish to say a few words in praise of the “king of weeklies,” the grandest and best magazine ever published for the advance- ment and pleasure of the American youth. . I read my first “Tip Top” so long ago that I can hardly remember when it was~about six or eight years back—but I only read a few at that time, and since then I have read so many others—in fact, nearly every one that they handle in onr town—that I got tired of them, and about fwo years ago I thought I would try “Tip Top” again; and so I read one, and since then I have taken it steadily, and can hardly wait until Friday comes and brings my favorite. I do not know what I would do if I missed “Tip Top” a single week. There is no doubt that Burt L. Standish is the king among writers for boys. \ “Tip Top” has done more for me, since I started reading it regularly, than anything else that I can think of. ' Of the characters I like Frank and Dick best, but they all fit in their proper places so well that it is hard to choose between the rest. : But I am afraid I may tire you, ‘as I never wrote any such letters before, and don’t know much about such things, so will close, giving three cheers for Burt L. and Dick and all the rest of the “Tip Top” characters. I remain a loyal Tip Topper, ‘ Detmont E. Wet ore. We expect to hear from you again later, my boy, and that you have converted your chums, so that they, too, prefer “Tip Top” to any other boys’ periodical published, (A letter from the Canal Zoné.) I have been a reader of the best weekly in the world, “Tip Top,” from No. 1 to 661. I have never written to the Applause column before. I had, before coming down to the Canal Zone from the States, started quite a number of boys to reading the “Tip Top.” At first they would not listen to me trying to coax them to read it, so I got them together and read one out loud for them. That was quite enough; they are loyal Tip Toppers now, and are getting all back numbers, and more readers, just as I am. have also started two or three readers here on the Canal Zone. As for the characters, I love them one and all. Culebra, Canal Zone, Panama. Crarence R. Sawyer. Clarence, you are promoted to a non-com. officer’s berth. You will find your name among the “elect” if you examine the Honor Roll. ' y \ (A letter from New York.) red Pig As I have written to you before, I will not take up your time expressing my thoughts, as you must already know them without me taking up hours to express them again. _ Could you please send me a list, or publish them in thc backs _ of the books each week, the names of every “Tip Top” printed, so that I might find out how many Ff have read, and then I could get those lacking. . . rg . * No name signed to this letter, but the writer will find what he wants in current issues, , : y { would make good as a wrestler. WEEKLY. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS, EDITED BY PROF. FOURMEN. . ~ NOTICE—So many inquiries reach us each week concerning the various manuals on athletic development, which we publish, that we have decided to keep a list of them at the head of this department. Any number can be had by mail by remitting 10 cents, and 3 cents © postage, for each copy, to the publishers. FRANK MERRIWELL’S BOOK OF PHYSICAL DEVELOPMENT, THE ART OF BOXING AND SELF-DEFENSE, by Prof. Donavan, U. S“ ARMY PHYSICAL EXERCISES, revised by Prof. Donavan, PHYSICAL HEALTH CULTURE, - - by Prof. Fourmen, (A letter from Florida.) Pror. Fourmen: I have been a reader of the “Tip Top” for about two years, so I take the liberty of sending you my meas- urements. I am 13 years 6 months old; weight, about 85 pounds; height, 4 feet 11 inches; waist, 24 inches; chest, normal, 28 inches; expanded, 30% inches; biceps, left arm, 8 inches; flexed, 8% inches; right arm, 8 inches; flexed, 9 inches; neck, 13 inches. What position could I play best on a ball nine? Hoping to see this in print, I remain, R. Lestey Butter. . - I could not tell what You know. Your measurements are all right, son. position you were best adapted for on a ball nine. Pror, Fourmen: Will you please give me your opinion of the following measurements? Height, 5 feet 11 inches; weight, 179% pounds, stripped; chest, normal, 41 inches; expanded, 49% inches. I take great pride in my chest, as I got it through physical-culture methods. Two years ago my chest measured only 37% inches normal and 42% inches expanded. The doc- tors say my chest is too big, that my heart will be affected in time. I don’t believe them. _Do you? My upper arm is 133% inches; thigh, 2214 inches; calf, 1654 inches; waist, 2834 inches— _ Can chin Do a trifle too small, don’t you think? Age, 20 years, myself once with right arm. I wish to become a wrestler. you think that I could? Thanking you in advance, I remain Neosho, Mo. A Fresa Arr ADVOCATE. 15 pounds overweight; chest splendid, being 134 inches above the average. Don’t you worry a particle about having too large a chest. I should say you are a fine specimen of young man- hood, and an example of what grim determination and daily practise will do for chest-expansion. (A letter from Utah.) o Pror. Fourmen: Being a constant reader of “Tip Top,” I thought I would send my measurements. Age, I4 years 7 months; weight, 86 pounds; height, 4 feet 10 inches; chest, — normal, 30 inches; expanded, 32% inches; waist, 30 inches; neck, 12!%4 inches; calves, 13 inches; thighs, 18% inches. is the height of a 14-year-old boy? exercise? people say I am small. Would ranch life increase my weight and height? Yours truly, ae LELAND WILLIAMS, | Doubtless ranch life would do wonders for you in the way: of making you hardy, but it will never increase your height, You weigh enoygh, and your chest, I imagine, normal, must be up to the standard for your height—27'4 inches—but what makes you so bulky about-the waist—you should only be 22 inches. bike Is roller-skating a good . Pror. FourmEen: Being a constant reader of “Tip Top,” I take the liberty of asking a few questions, which I hope you will answer. Age, 17 years; height, 5 feet 234 inches; weight, 106 pounds; chest, normal, 29% inches; expanded, 32%4 inches; waist, 26 inches; neck, 12 inches; wrists, 534 inches; biceps, 1034 inches; calves, 12 inches; thigh, 17 inches. As I am ver: small, please tell me some simple exercises to become stouter. JD I should ‘imagine you What — I play all outdoor games, but am short-winded, and ? % TIP: TOP. WEEKLY. BI play baseball and all outdoor games I can. Hoping that you | will pardon this long letter, L. remain a loyal Tip Topper, Holyoke, Mass. A. BN. You may be short in stature, my boy, but you weigh just what you should. . with profit. Don’t worry a moment about your lack of inches upward, but utilize all you have hardening your muscles and broadening your chest. You will find ample directions in any of our manuals on physical development. You could stand an inch or more about the chest, (A letter from Kentucky.) Pror. FourMEN: Would you kindly advise an ardént reader of “Tip. Top. Weekly”’—which is a fine magazine—in regard to whether good cocoa or chocolate—two cups per day—would hurt me in any way. Awaiting anxiously your reply, I remain, yours truly, ROBERT ALTMEYER. - Not a bit of harm in taking it three times a day. (A letter from Canada.) Pror. Fourmen: Being a reader of “Tip Top” for a long ~ while, I would like to ask some questions. My measurements, _ taken. stripped, are: Age, 14 years; height, 5 feet 4 inches; weight, 101 pounds; chest, normal, 30 inches;. expanded, 33 inches; biceps, 101-3 inches; waist, 24 inches. .I'do quite a bit of running, and’ can cover ten miles without being “all in.” My time, three miles, is fifteén minutes. I box. quite a bit and . Skate a good deal. After 1 run a mile or so I begin to puff a great deal, but this soon leaves me. Why is this? Please tell me my strong points, if I have any, and also name my weak - points. I remain A Wrnnirec Tip Topper. You would have better wind if you raised the dimensions of ! your chest to 33 inches. You get what every runner knows. as his “second wind.” Keep your mouth closed, if possible, when ‘running, and have a reserve force for a sprint. » _-Pror. FourMen : Having read every “Tip Top” for four years, T ask your opinion on my measurements: Height, 5 ‘feet 6 inches; weight, 122 pounds; neck, 1314 inches; breadth of shoul- ders, 1714 inches; biceps, left, 10 inches; right, 1034 inches; chest, normal, 32. inches; expanded, 35 inches ; waist, 27 inches; hips, 30. inches; thighs, 18 inches; calves, 13 inches. 1 am right end on our school football team, pitcher on the baseball, and am On the track team. Hoping to see this in print, I am, sincerely yours, ~ P. Borns. St. Louis, Mo. _ Good weight, chest y ‘ound athlete, as you tter one could you 3 inches shy. If you are a good all- stand, you would assuredly be a much pick up that lacking lung capacity. I seriously try. ee Bm: (A letter from Pennsylvania.) ' ; , Pror. Fourmen: I work ‘in a grocery. Reaching for goods on high shelvés has caused my right hip to be higher than my jeft. It is not noticeable, but it does not feel comfortable, ‘for auses my dresses to pull’ yp on that side. reise T can take that will remedy it? I am 16 years old and n 5 feet 4 inches tall. I weigh 134 pounds, Isn’t that too uch? Would it be a good thing fér me to join a gymnasium? dow can I develop my forearms? Respectfully, fi caer Grace Harkins. Suppose you practise lifting things down with the other arm. nastics are advisable for girls as well as boys, By all means join a gym. where they have girls’ classes. There you will find various methods of strengthening your forearms. You certainly weigh more than the average; bit exercise in long ks or indoor gymnastics will reduce this surplus considerably. ; { —— (A etter from Virginia.) . i Fourmen: I have long been a reader of the “Tip Top wee and am, greatly interested in your department and in tics of all kinds. I will give you my measurements, and e liberty of asking your good advice: My. méastirements follows: Age, 15 years; if Ts there any: weight, US pounds; height, a4 fect 5 inches; neck, 13 inches; biceps, 12 inches; waist, 20 inches; chest, 31 inches;.expanded, 34 inches; thigh, 18 inches; calf, 12 inches. What do think of my measurements? What are my weak points? and what would you advise me to do for better. development? When sprinting, say, .a half-mile, [ grow “winded.” What should I do to overcome this trouble? Will, thank you kindly for.your valued advice and suggestions, and hope to see your answer in the next issue of the “Tip Top.” With best wishes, yours truly, you Epwarp O, McGEHEE. You weigh exactly what you should, and yet, strange*to say, your waist appears to be a couple Of inches above the average. Perhaps you took’ the tape too soon after gorging, or . else inflated your stomach. 2 were you I Your chest lacks 3 inches, and, son, if would set my teeth together and determine that the gap would be bridged by next Fall. -You can do it easily if you but persist.. A pair of fine lungs will always be one of the best gifts-of Providence. (A letter from Kansas.) Pror. FourmMEN: Having been a reader of your great.weekly for some time, I take the liberty of asking you a few questions. Age, 14 years; height, 4 feet 1014 inches; weight, 9714 pounds; neck, 11 inches; chest, normal, 27 inches; expanded, 29 inches; wrist, 6 inches; waist, 29 inches. What can I do to build myself up? .I drink tea and coffee, and all fattening foods. I go to bed about 9:30 p. m. and get up about 7:30., Standing jump, 7% feet; pole-vault, 6 feet: inches; 100-yard dash, 1314 seconds. What can.I do to gain weight? I. want to become a runner, How do I rank as other boys of my age? I do not swim. I get stiff after any hard exercise, and my wind’ gives - oui. Thanking you in the near future, | remain a Tip Topper for- ever, yours truly, REDDIE. - McPherson, Kan, Your. chest is almost up to the standard, but you weigh some 12 pounds more than is necessary. Result, your waist, ‘which should be 23 inches normal, you give at 29. Do, try and remedy this, my lad. You will never become a runnér unless: you ‘ac- f re . . ee . complish it. I’imagine you need a course of severe physical training; arid when you cut your weight your wind will become better; naturally. (A, letter. from Wisconsin.) Pror. Fourmen: Having been a reader of “Tip Top” for a long time, I am naturally interested in your column. Would like to have answers. to the following questions, Height, 5 feet 8 inches; weight, 12% pounds; neck, 13° inches; waist, 2814 inches; chest, normal, 32 inches;.expanded, 34% inches; biceps, 1 inches; «forearm, to ‘inches; wrist, 7 inches;’ thigh, 1714 inches; calf, 12% inches; ankle, 84 inches; reach, 73 inches; width of shoulders, 1534 inches; age, 20 years. What are my strong poimts? What are my weak points? and how can [ _ strengthen them? Would like.to see this in print soon’ Thank- . ing “you, 1 remain, yours, Ewp. E. Lusywow. You should. weigh 140 pounds and measure, normally, 87. inchés around your chest. This ‘latter*is where you fall far — short. I would’ adyise you to get a mantial and devote some > time daily to such ‘simple chest exercises as are recommetided. The result in six months’ time will not only surprise but gratify ‘ ’ you. © oie (A letter from New York.) ee Pror, FourMEN: Being an admirer of the “Tip. Top,” FE take the liberty to send you my measurements again. They are as — follows: I am 16 years 5 months old; height, 5 feet 234 inches; — reach, 5 feet 614 inches; chest, normal, 3114 inches; expantled, - 33%4 inches; calf, 12 inches; waist, 28 inches: apiyss Buns 15 inches ;° feck, 1314 iniches; biceps, normal, 81% inches + €x- panded, 934 inches; weight, ‘110 potinds. What are my’ weak points? Enclosed find five cents, for which send me a copy of the “Tip Top” that you put my measurements in, . Hoping to _ hear from you, I remain a trie friend, Jesse JouNSoN. | You are only lacking about, an inch in chest ‘measurements, and I should say that you appear to be in very good trim, .. _ VERS A ‘ : z ; Perea e { —— = ESPECIALLY IMPORTANT !! MOTOR STORIES A New Idea in the Way of Five-Cent Weeklies. Boys everywhere will be delighted to hear that Street & Smith are now issuing this new five-cent weekly which will be known by the name of MOTOR STORIES. * This weekly is entirely different from anything: now being published. It de- tails the astonishing adventures of a young mechanic who owned a motor cycle. Is there a boy who has not bonged to possess one of these swift little machines that scud about the roads everywhere throughout the United States? Is there a boy, therefore, who will not be intensely interested im the adventures of “Motor Matt,” as he is familiarly called by his comrades? Boys, you have never read anything half so exciting, half so humorous and — entertaining as the first story listed for publication in this line, called “Motor Matt; or, The King of the Wheel.” Its fame is bound to spread like wildfire, causing the biggest demand for the other numbers in. this line, that was ever heard of in the history of this class of literature. Here are the titles to be issued during the next few weeks. Do not fail to place an order for them with ‘your newsdealer. ‘No. J. Motor Matt; or, The King of the Wheel. No. 2. Motor Matt’s Daring; or, True to His Friends. No. 3. Motor Matt’s “Century” Run; or, The Governor’s Courier. No. 4. Motor Matt’s Race; or, The Last Flight of the Comet, lee i. - | 32 LARGE SIZE PAGES rae SPLENDID COLORED COVERS PRICE, FIVE CENTS PER COPY a ALL NEWSDEALERS, LISHERS UPON RECEIPT OF THE PRICE. ‘STREET € SMITH, Publishers, NEW YORK a OR SENT POSTPAID BY THE PUB- SRS IR Sai le ery tt eR. a oc he TR RT a a ee SCIEN I NUMBERS 1 TO 396 IP TOP WEEKLY ARE CONTAINED IN THE MEDAL LIBRARY SS SS Si Si Si Se We know that there are thousands of boys who are very much interested in the early adven- tures of Frank and Dick Merriwell and who want to read everything that was written about them. We desire to inform these boys that numbers 1 to 396 are pretty well out of print in the TIP TOP WEEKLY, but all of them can be secured in the numbers of the NEW MEDAL LIBRARY given below. 150—Frank Merriwell’s School-days. 167—Frank 178—Frank 184—Frank 189—Frank 193—F rank 197—Frank 201—Frank 205—F rank 209—F rank 213—Frank 217—Frank 225—Frank 229—Frank 233—Frank 237—Frank 240—Frank 244—F rank 247—Frank 251—Frank 254—Frank 258—Frank 262—Frank 267—Frank 271—Frank 276—Frank 280—F rank 284—F rank 288—Frank 292—F rank 296—F rank 300—F rank 304—Frank 308—Frank 312—Frank 316—Frank 320—Frank 324—Frank 328—Frank 332—Frank 336—Frank 340—Frank 344—F rank 348—Frank 352—Frank 356—Frank 359—F rank 362—Frank 365—Frank 368—Frank 371—Frank 374—F rank 377—F rank 380—Frank 383—Frank 386—Frank 389—F rank Merriwell’s Chums. Merriwell’s Foes. Merriwell’s Trip West. Merriwell Down South. Merriwell’s Bravery. Merriwell’s Hunting Tour. Merriwell in Europe. Merriwell at Yale. Merriwell’s Sports Afield. Merriwell’s Races. Merriwell’s Bicycle Tour. Merriwell’s Courage. Merriwell’s Daring. Merriwell’s Athletes. Merriwell’s Skill. Merriwell’s Champions. Merriwell’s Return to Yale. Merriwell’s Secret. Merriwell’s Danger. Merriwell’s Loyalty. Merriwell in Camp. Merriwell!’s Vacation. Merriwell’s Cruise. Merriwell’s Chase. Merriwell in Maine. Merriwell’s Struggle. Merriwell’s First Job. Merriwell’s Opportunity. Merriwell’s Hard Luck. Merriwell’s Protégé. Merriwell on the Road. Merriwell’s Own Company. Merriwell’s Fame. Merriwell’s College Chums. Merriwell’s Problem. Merriwell’s Fortune. Merriwell’s New Comedian. Merriwell’s Prosperity. Merriwell’s Stage Hit. Merriwell’s Great Scheme. Merriwell in England. Merriwell on the Boulevards. Merriwell’s Duel. Merriwell’s Double Shot. Merriwell’s’ Baseball Victories. Merriwell’s Confidence. Merriwell’s Auto. Merriwell’s Fun. Merriwell’s Generosity. Merriwell’s Tricks. Merriwell’s Temptation. Merriwell on Top. Merriwell’s Luck. Merriwell’s Mascot. Merriwell’s Reward. Merriwell’s Phantom. The NEW MEDAL LIBRARY FIFTEEN CENTS Merriwell’s Faith. Merriwell’s Victories. Merriwell’s Iron Nerve. Merriwell in Kentucky. Merriwell’s Power. Merriwell’s Shrewdness. Merriwell’s Set-back. 413—Frank Merriwell’s Search. 416—Frank Merriwell’s Club. 419—Frank Merriwell’s Trust. 392—F rank 395—F rank 398—F rank 401—Frank 404—F rank 407—F rank 410—Frank 422—Frank 425—Frank 428—Frank 431—Frank 434—Frank 437—Frank 440—Dick 443—Dick 446—Dick 449—Dick 452—Dick 455—Dick 458—Dick 461—Dick 464—Dick 467—Dick Merriwell’s False Friend. Merriwell’s Strong Arm. Merriwell as Coach. Merriwell’s Brother. Merriwell’s Marvel. Merriwell’s Support. Merriwell at Fardale. Merriwell’s Glory. Merriwell’s Promise. Merriwell’s Rescue. Merriwell’s Narrow Escape. Merriwell’s Racket. Merriwell’s Revenge. Merriwell’s Ruse. Merriwell’s Delivery. Merriwell’s Wonders. 470—Frank Merriwell’s Honor. 473—Dick Merriwell’s Diamond. 476—Frank Merriwell’s Winners. 479—Dick 482—Dick 485—Dick 488—Dick Merriwell’s Dash. Merriwell’s Ability. Merriwell’s Trap. Merriwell’s Defense. 491—Dick Merriwell’s Mode}. 494—Dick Merriwell’s Mystery. Published About January 5th 497—Frank Merriwell’s Backers. Published About January 26th 500—Dick Merriwell’s Backstop. Published About February 16th 503—Dick Merriwell’s Western Mission. Published About March 9th 506—Frank Merriwell’s Rescue. Published About March 30th 5s09—Frank Merriwell’s Encounter. Published About April 20th §12—Dick Merriwell’s Marked Money. Published About May 11th 515—Frank Merriwell’s Nomads. Published About June ist 518—Dick Merriwell on the Gridiron. Published About June 22nd 521—Dick Merriwell’s Disguise. STREET & SMITH, Publishers, NEW YORK CITY III MI i i SE SG IE i 6 Si i i SH 4