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No. 684.

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., NV. Y.
Entered according to Act of Comgress in the year 1909, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, meee ws

NEW YORK, May: 22, 1909.

Price Five Cents.

 

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CHAPTER I
THE CONQUERING POWER.

The scene was a most animated one. The great
college meet was in full swing, and the field, thronged
with contestants from America’s leading universities,
presented a spectacle of most absorbing interest to the
spectators packed in the stands. At intefvals the vari-
ous stands broke out into enthusiastic cheering.
Sometimes the Harvard crimson floated wildly from
that section given over to Harvard undergraduates

and friends, and the long-drawn cry,
Har—v'd! Har rolled across the field. Then
came the yell of Cornell, the tiger roar of Princeton
and the bulldog bark of Yale.
_. The sun shone brightly from a blue sky in which
_ were only a few light, fleecy clouds, resembling ladies’
lace handkerchiefs and being apparently scarcely
larger. This was spring, and life and youth and
everything to make the cheek glow, the eye gleam
. bright and the heart beat high. Over this field hov-
ered the new-born athletic spirit of America, destined
~ to develop and grow until its manhood-making quali-
ties must be felt in every nook and corner of the land.
_ Out there gn the cinder path the rumners were

vd!”

 

| Dick Merriwell at the Meet; —

Honors Worth Winning. —

By, BURT L. STANDISH.

 

“Har—v'd!)

her rivals.

   
    
   
    
     
     
       
         
         
       
       
     
   
   
   
     
      
 
       
    

speeding. Out there in the great middle spaces jump-
ers, pole vaulters, hammer throwers and shot putters
were hard at work, all their efforts and accomplish-
ments noted and recorded by a host of beribboned of-
ficials, referees and assistants, judges, timekeepers,
scorers, starters, clerks and many others. 4

As far as possible the space around each place of.
contest was kept clear, in order that the spectators in
the stands might have a comparatively unobstructed —
view of what is taking place. Between. events some —
of the contestants wandered about in blankets or re- —
clined at full length upon the ground. , The reclining
men were carefully looked after, and attendants meade :
sure that the most of them lay upon outspread blan- —
kets. Stretched at. full length men recuperate more
readily from recent exertions and recover condition for
coming trials. ;

The spectators in the stands were kept posted as to”
the progress of events, and they knew that up to this”
time Harvard had a slight advantage in points over
Princeton was second, and Yale had third
place. But the lead was so slight that almost any de-
cfsive event which might go to the blue would put het
within striking distance of the crimson. Really,
was one of the hardest fought track meets of years.

oe.

   
lees tA

The clerk of the course was seen placing the run-
ners for the two hundred-and-twenty-yard dash, This
event had been one of several on which Yale placed
great reliance, but at the last moment Ben Scovel, who
with Will Silver was to represent Yale, had been re-
ported ill and it became necessary to find a substitute.
It was known that the manager of the track team had
induced Dick Merriwell to take part in two events,
the two-hundred-and-twenty-yard dash and the mile
run, and: it was hoped that Merriwell would support
Silver well, although it was generally predicted that
_ Yale would feel the loss of Scovel keenly, for he and
Silver had worked together like two parts of a ma-
chine. The management was criticized freely for
taking a man off the nine to fill a vacancy instead of
filling it with one of the track team who had worked
regularly. It was true that Merriwell had found time
to do more or less work with the track team, but of
late baseball had absorbed him to such an extent that
few believed he could do his best in a sprint or a
~ mile run.

The voice of the starter was heard.

“Are you ready? Set!” :

His hand was lifted. “A puff of smoke burst from
the muzzle of his pistol, and ere the report reached
_ the ears of distant spectators the runners were off and
“away.

‘There was no reservation of strength in this race.
, Bic the first sharp start to the tape those men did
their prettiest.
flying over the cinders, yet almost with the first leap
the field began to open and string out a little with three
men leading.

- One of the leaders, who had gotten off in’a manner
to obtain a slight. advantage, was Wrexel, of Cornell.

Less than a yard behind him came Dodge, of Prince-

‘on, and Shrubb, of Harvard.
Tt was this last man who had won the one-hundred-

_yard dash and who was conceded to be Silver’s most

dangerous opponent of the day,
-Merriwell had gotten away fairly well, bit even he

“was behind Silver, who somehow had made a start

at quite up to his usual form. .

‘The spectators had little time to speculate oyer the
probable result.

nd passed the Cornell man seemingly in two strides.

“Shrub! stitabht Shrub!” howled the Harvard

Down the course they came, literally

Suddenly Shrubb leaped forward

Princetdn.

WEEKLY.

But he was not alone.
him like a leech,

Whatever was done must be done quickly now. A
few fleeing seconds would decide the struggle.

Shrubb had regarded himself as a certain winner,
but suddenly he was amazed to see a figure at his side,
and he gathered himself for that last fierce flight to
the tape.

Silver had forgotten’ Merriwell.

Dick Merriwell hung to

His attention was

wholly on Shrubb, the man whom he hoped and whom — jj

he meant to beat if it lay in his power.

Without a single inch of advantage, those two men —
sped toward the finish.

“Shrubb! Shrubb!” roared the Harvard stand.

“Silver! Silver!’ shrieked the Yale stand.

Then came another cry.

“Merriwell—look at Merriwell!’”

Even as this final shout of wonderment went Up,
Dick Merriwell seemed.to fling himself forward with —
superhuman energy and absolutely incredible speed.

The tape was near, and, with an upward and forward —
sweep of his arms, Dick

a full yard ahead of either Shrubb.or Silver. |

There was a moment of amazed silence, followed by ©
pandemonium in the Yale stand.

Dick kept his feet and declined the aid of friends
who rushed to help him, Silver nearly collapsed, but —

‘was supported by a comrade. Gaspingly he wheezed ig

“But—-where—where did he y

“The devil knows,” said his friend. “It was a mar-
vel. He came up out of the ground, Will; but Yale
won, Yale won! Hurrah!”

Silver was led away muttering bitterly : iene

“T had Shrubb beaten. Devil take that man pr

Past experience had proven to Silver that Merriwell
possessed marvelous endurance and surprising speed as
a runtier, yet up to this moment he had not believed
Dick his equal in a dash. Now he was enraged to
stich a degree that he would have preferred defeat by
Shrubb, | oe

The Yale crowd was rejoicing, for this event had
put the blue one point ahead of the orange and th
black A moment later a report from the field aroused:
still greater enthusiasm, for Yale had won further
points in the standing broad jump. Harvard was be-
ing pushed to the limit.

The crimson had won in the hammer throw, for
Brainford, the great Yale hammer man, was also ‘on
the pee Hat and een, who had been subst

‘It was civics HHeceSsiity tie Buckhart to

 

shot to the front and ee” ve
THR: TOP? WEEBIN 3

represent the blue in the shot put. There were other was no impression of hugeness of bulk. He had
competitors, but on the Texan Yale was forced to de- splendid long arms, fine shoulders and a powerful
pend. Considering what he had done with the ham- back, but he was equally well set up in almost every
mer, it seemed like leaning on a broken reed. other way. Apparently he was in form to make a
But Brad was aroused. Some one told him of new record.
Merriwell’s performance and informed him that Yale “There,” said one of the men standing aloof and
was now second in the score and pressing Harvard looking on, “is a man who could become a great ham-
hard. ; mer thrower or shot putter. He’s got the strength,
Brad felt that he might have been a good hammer the build and the determination.- I-never saw a man
thrower and shot putter had: he given up other things with a more set, determined face in my life.”
and devoted more time to it. He felt the power and Indeed, Buckhart’s face was set and determined, for
ability within him, but he lacked practice in a small in his heart something stirred which was nerving him
_ degree. True, he had followed it up for diversion to his finest pitch,
and had astonished a great many people by his per- The Harvard man had made forty-five. feet eleven
-formances, but now he was “up against the real and one-half inches. It was a splendid performance,
thing.” To win now meant that he must be a better although it. had been excelled by other men in other
man than any of those fellows who had specialized days. The fact that it had been excelled aroused.
_ themselves in that department. Buckhart to a resolution to excel it now if such a thing
The Texan was worried, for he knew his comrades _ lay in him.
were looking to him, and he feared the result would He stepped within the bounds of the shot putter’s
cause the blue to drop behind the orange and the black position and received the shot. Measuring the ground
once more. | Still he did not seek to excuse himself with his eye he retreated to the extreme limit per-
_by saying that he might have done better under other missible. Ahead of him stood the barrier, four inches
conditions. His only thought was to do his best now, high, which he must. not touch.

‘and somehow he was inspired by the knowledge that As he made ready his mind brought into action and
_ Merriwell had made such a wonderful performance. command every particle of physical power which he
_ The contestants were called and the shot putting be- - possessed. He summoned it bit by bit to obey his
gan. Princeton led off, but her representative plainly will, and he felt it throbbing in the muscles of his
showed that he had not done his best. Unwisely he ‘arm and shoulder. It was_ there, waiting to be
was holding himself in reserve for more_severe exer- launched, waiting to put itself into the hurlingeof that
_ tions when he should learn the extent of the stint set shot, which lay huge and dark and round in his palm. |
him by his rivals. . If possible his face became more set, more grim, more
Cooley of Cornell beat the Princeton man by a yard. determined: His jaw was square, his lips pressed to- .
_ Then the Harvard giant dropped Cooley behind, gether, his eyes filled with a steady glow. .
and Brad, watching earnestly, believed the crimson A moment later, he poised himself, his left arm
epresentative had come pretty near doing his hand- — outflung, his weight swung onto his right leg, the shot
-somest. He resolved not to waste his energy by un- lifted into proper position in front of his shoulder.
“necessary efforts nor to depend on the second or third A stride he made, and then with all his ‘muscular
trials. , ability and with marvelous strength, which seemed to
 *T’ll do my best if ee the first time,” he de- rise from his very toes and grow until it culminated
cided. in a burst of power as he thrust his arm forward and
Pole vaulters and contestants in other matches who hurled the shot, he made his supreme effort. es
could find time to do so had turned their attention to The shot sailed through the air and fell some dis-
the shot putting, for on this a great deal suddenly tance beyond the mark made by the Harvard man. _
depended., Harvard must keep her lead now or i A few of the Yale watchers could not restrain them-
an uphill game. selves, and they shouted and exclaimed aloud. The ;
It was Brad’s turn. He flung aside his blanket and judges\stretched the tape, while Buckhart stood there,
rose. Many a man looking at his magnificent figure, his toes within two inches of that barrier in om of
rugged yet clean-cut face, was thrilled with ad- the confining bounds. | Saat
miration. He appeared large when stripped down to “Forty-eight feet five Seches” was the announce
his mae othes, er he was built so well that there ment. o :

eer ee ee ee we ee ee ene nt ae

 
TIP TOP

/

Then Buckhart stepped out and retired. Some one
seized him and gave him a tremendous slap upon the
back. It was Langley, the Yale hurdler,

“Shades of all the palpitated Langley.
“How dic you do it? ‘ll never beat that to-day.
You've go! Nobody locked for you
to do it, Buckhart.”’

“You're wrong about that,”’
did.”

“Who?”

“My pard,

saints!”
They
"em skinned now.

ae
said Brad. . “Somebody

‘Dick Merriwell. I admit I didn’t have
a heap of confidence in my ability, but he told me I
could do it. J opine he’ll be some disappointed over
my hammer record.”

If that throw

39

“But you’ve made up grandly now.
wins we'll have

That ‘throw for although the other men
strained every nerve, every muscle, they could not
beat it. Harvard came second, however, and the
‘struggle settled down into a fight between the blue
and the crimson for first place,

Harvard fighting to catch us.
won,

CHAPTER IL

A MANLY ACT.

The struggle was at its fiercest when the mile run
_ came off. Will Silver went into that run with a tem-
pest of jealous hatred for Merriwell rioting in his
heart. From the crack of the pistol Giver gave his at-
‘tention to Merriwell, Shrubb being forgotten.
“If I can beat this man,” decided Silver, “I’ll win.”
To the spectators it seemed as if the runners’ got
away easily and did not strain themselves to the ut-
most. The truth was that the contestants knew their
‘staying powers and were gauging themselves, at the
same time zealously watching the performances of
‘competitors who were inclined to set the pace.
nell man took the lead once more and held it for nearly
half the distance. In endeavoring to wear his oppo-
“nents down at that early stage, however, he put him-
self to the bad and was easily disposed of when the
others moved up in a spurt.
_ Silver was not the only man who was gauging him-
elf by Merriwell. Shrubb had suddenly discovered
at Dick was his rival most to be feared,

Shortly after the half-mile mark/was passed Silver |

decided to force things, and he came up on Dick.
bb did likewise, holding his position at Silver’s
ie Will forced him over toward. Dick.

slightest degree behind the

A Cor-

WEEKLY.

Finding he would be pocketed the Harvard man
moved across to the outside, and, doing his prettiest,
evened matters with Silver. The crowd roared madly
as it saw those three men in the lead swinging round
into the final stretch which led to the finish,

Shrubb had husbanded himself cleverly, and, with a
desire to put Silver out of the running, he made a-
He

closed in before ick, but Merriwell, see-

mighty spurt and swung in front of the man.
would have
ing his intention, also moved up and held on just the
Harvard runner, yet close
enough to prevent him from accomplishing his eae
pose without fouling. .
He saw
Dick holding out from the inner bit of track, and,
gathering himself, made a lunge to get through upon
that side. shouldered Merriwell a he
and Dick unintentionally fouled The Har-
vard man nearly lost his feet,
lead.

Nothing could have happened to exasperate bide
Merriwell more than this, yet few of the watchers

Silver came near going blind with rage.

In doing so he
Shrubb.

and Silver gained the -

really understood the full extent of what had taken
performance and were —

place. They saw Silver’s
amazed by his unsportsman-like demeanor, yet it ap-—

yeared as if the matter lay between the two Yale men. (~
y “ Ts! §

What had happened to Shrubb as he staggered eth
lost his stride was somewhat a matter of conjecture.

Having gained such an advantage, Silver set his
teeth with renewed fierceness and put all his speed
into a final effort to go fast to the tape. Merriwell
followed him close, and they fought it out in the last
thirty yards. Just before the tape was reached Silver,
all in, staggered and went down.

Merriwell breasted the tape with Shrubb vaccine at
his shoulder ee

As soon as he could recover his strength and breath,
Dick sought the referee and judges.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “I don’t know your decision
on this race, but it belongs to Shrubb. I touled him

unintentionally.” fA

That very point was under debate, and Dick’a Wane
liness in making this acknowledgment cleared up mat ‘
ters at once. Shrubb, a true sportsman, believing the
fouling wholly unintentional, had declined to make —
any claims. ir

Silver got’ ie as soon as he could de SO, but evel
oot! si him, ie heard a few hisses. tte had fail
most ignominiously, and that day he had es him

self forever as an unfair sportsman.

 
PLP TOP.

On the other hand, Merriwell, although defeated
through no fault of his own, had howe the honor that
was in him by unhesitatingly making his statement to
the officials. ,

Harvard again took the lead in: the meet, and she
held it by the very slimmest sort of a margin.. When
everything was over and settled it was found that the
crimson had won by three points.

That night Silver was beyond doubt the most de-
spised man in Yale. His excuses were listened to in
silence, and he knew he was not believed when he
claimed he had thought he saw plenty of room to pass

-Merriwell fairly upon the inner side of the course.
‘His angry resentment because Dick’s explanation had
been accepted and his own met with apparent disdain
_ served to make him appear even more unworthy. He

formed no part of the little gathering of fine fellows ’

among whom were Shrubb and Merriwell and a con-
genial set of their friends. |
_ Several times the Harvard man assured Dick that
he had known all along that the foul was uninten-
tional. ,
~ “You should have won that race, Merriwell,” said
Shrubb. “I didn’t believe you or any other Yale

man could beat me, but now I’m inclined to think you °

had me trimmed fairly. The honors were yours.”
_ “They’re still his,” cried the captain of the crim-
son track team. ‘According to rules, you won,
Shrubb, and only a man of the finest sense of honor
. would have done as Merriwell did. He was not res
sponsible for Silver’s chuckle-headed performance, of
urse; but still, Silver was a Yale man, afld as it hap-,
ned Merriwell had to suffer for his folly.

pwenlicing what a difference winning the race would

CHAPTER IIL.

‘THE PHILOSOPHER AT THE FENCE,

a a sophomore, sodlphider a friend and siasbicrstl at
| “They’re ae a high old time.”
ach that way,” grunted the friend, striking a

_ service.

WEEKLY. : “¢

ward Durfee, from a certain open window of which
floated occasional bursts of laughter, music and song. .
“Merriwell is the most popular man in college.”

“He’s the most popular college man in the country
to-day. He’s known everywhere, and he’ll be as fa-
mous as his brother was in former times. Wonderful
how he can be such a clever, all-round man and yet
do such amazing things in special lines.”

“Really, it does seem as if he \could qualify to be ,
a champion at anything he might choose. He’s had
a hand in almost everything,
wanted to fill a vacancy Merriwell is impressed into
Look what he did at the meet. Scoval was
never reckoned on as the man to win first place in any —
of those races, but there was nobody on the track
team who could fill his shoes when he dropped out, -
and so they called on Merriwell. To be sure, the «
fellow .is in constant training and keeps himself in ‘
condition year in and year out. Yet who ever
dreamed that with no more preparation and practice
than he had that he would go into the meet and be
a better man than Silver?” i

“Don’t talk about Will Silver. He’s killed himself
for all time. He’s down and out. The felow was”
crazy to try the trick he did in that mile run.” a

“They say he’s hated Merriwell ever since that little —
private race between them out at the park this spring,
Really, a ia fn be so popular that he won’t have

some enemies.’

“The more popular a man is the more likely he will
be to have enemies. Out of discretion or fear or the
knowledge that they will make themselves unpopular,

his enemies may hide the fact of their hatred; but it

exists nevertheless, and they’re constantly watching
the time when the man shall make a mistake, los

.some of his popularity and strike the toboggan slide,

The minute that thing happens his enemies bob up
from all sides, ready to give him a shove down the

slide and rejoice to see him go scooting toward i

bottom, '

“It’s only the sidelines indifferent, cles fellov
wie have no enemies. They’re of such unimportance
that they can’t arouse strong dislike or pronounced
regard and affection. ‘There, are hosts of ther ;
at Yale. They have no individuality of their own
They are exactly like the masses. You can’t tell one
of them from scores or hundreds of other men. The
dress conventionally, they behave conventionally, they
think conventionally, and they’re all on the same fla
cite oo wil, make Sa See oy ae [

to light his pipe and then cocking his ear to- —

Sa aod ee Ne eh ene Leen et en eee

 

Whenever a man is
Pie Woe

pulses and desires are not strong enough to lead them
into such actions. They will never do anything very
good, and still they will be moral, law-abiding, church-
going men, against whom the finger of accusation can-
not be turned. They will live their lives without ever
making as much as a ripple on the surface of the sea
of life. They will have plenty of friends, so called,
but they'll never have one devoted, whole-souled
friend who would make a great sacrifice for them.
“Some chaps call Dick Metrriwell a crank. Well,
he may be for all I know, but my philosophy teaches
me that no man can have a pronounced individuality
and be different from the great mass of his fellows,
living his own life according to his best ideas, unless
he shall be called a crank. It’s the cranks who have
been the cause of the world’s progress. Every old-
time reformer, astronomer, investigator or inventor
was dubbed a crank by his fellow men. The man who

first makes a great truthful discovery which runs:

against the accepted beliefs of his age will be derided
and scoffed at as a crank or a lunatic. Future times
will see him honored and respected or admired as a
man of genius—but: he will be dead!

“Once there were men who lived for the good of
their fellow men, thoughtless of themselves, suffering
— revilement and injury at the hands of others and hold-

ing firmly to a fixed purpose. They may have died

in disgrace, but posterity crowned their memory with
laurels. Some of them knew this must happen; others
never dreamed it could happen. Still, they had grasped
at a truth in science or art or some department of life,
and not even death itself could make them renounce it.
_ “Where do you see such men in these days? How
‘many of them are there? This is called an age of
great discoveries in science and invention, but where

are your great men who would suffer scorn and shame »

that they might hand down to posterity some great
_ living truth? You can’t find them, If there are such
men, they are swallowed up in the tremendous mass
- offcommonplace human beings with which they min-
gle. They dress like other men, they act like other
-men, they seem to think like other men, and no one
_ dreams that they are any different from other men.
_ They are cowards—that is the simple truth of it.
They are slaves to convention: They are afraid to be
fancied any different from the masses,

. ~ “One of the principal reasons for the remarkable

WEEKLY.

doesn’t drink, he doesn’t use tobacto, he doesn’t swear,
and he is clean in his morals. There are other men
of whom the same may be said, but in nine cases out
of ten they lack a certain element of rugged man-
hood which is distinct and pronounced in Merriwell.
You know instinctively that they are temperate and
moral and good, either because they have never been
tempted to be otherwise, or because they are such cow-
ards or hypocrites that they choose to strike such a
pose.

“No man can ever imagine fora moment that Dick
Merriwell lives his life for any such reasons. He is

not afraid to be seen in a church or a barroom. He ~~

goes wherever he chooses, and public opinion thinks —
none the less of him for his independence. He doesn’t
bend the knee to wealth or title, and he holds him-
self the equal of any human creature alive; still, he’s

the sort who sympathizes with the poor man, the la- —

borer, the hobo, the street urchin, and not only does he
sympathize, but he shows himself a man and brother
with no offensive feeling of superiority, which is so
readily apparent in those who patronize the lowly.
“There’s nothing of the snob and cad in Merriwell.
He’s not, even a speaking acquaintance of mine, yet
I’ve seen enough of the man to understand these
things, and I think I’ve’ discovered the real secret of —

his unusual fame, which has bothered and puzzled

many persohs. His brother Frank had the same inde- —
pendence of character. |
he made himself famous without trying to do so. }
rhe en who seeks to become famous may possi- ne
bly become ‘hotorious, but fame will shun him. The 3
harder we seek some self-gratification in this world —
the smaller chances we have of attaining it. Frank —
Merriwell is famous to-day because of his great proj-
ect for the betterment of American boys and youths. -
He has devoted his life to the work of raising the ©
standard of manhood in America, and he’s making a nN
glorious success of the work. His school, so original

in its character, was scoffed at and derided, and he was

called a crank and lunatic when he first started that —
Now he has demonstrated its practicability,
Further than that, —

school.
and the scoffers are silenced.

wealthy philanthropists have become interested in that —

school, and it is said to be simply a forerunner of
other schools; modeled on the same plan. |

“T don’t know what Dick Merriwell will do when |
he leaves college and goes out into the world, but I~
shall expect him to do something as original and. bene-
ficient for humanity as his brother has done.

“I’d give a great deal if I had such stuff in me. 1

 

When he was here at college
     

TEP TOP

i

 

recognize my own weaknesses and my own cowardice.
Like you and like thousands of others, | haven't the

nerve to be anything different than the great mass of

# humanity. I’ll fall into my rut or groove, and there
a Tl plod my life through side by side with the other
plodders. We talk about liberty, but, by the everlast-

 

ing, we're all slaves—slaves to convention!

 

; “Give me a light, old fel. My pipe has gone out.”
1. “Here’s a match, Charlie. Smoke up and have an-
i 6 other pipe dream.”
ee CHAPTER IV.

PATRIOTISM AND SENTIMENT.

 

With Tucker strumming the mandolin and Bigelow
picking at the guitar, they had sung all the popular
songs worth singing and a great many which were
not. Besides Tucker there were Mc-
Gregor, Jones, Buckhart, Claxton and Merriwell gath-
ered in that room. The window was open, and the
soft, balmy breeze floated in at intervals.

and Bigelow

As they finished singing Jones turned to Tucker
and drawled:

“T say, Tommy, you’re a tenor, aren’t you?”

“TI suppose so,” murmured the little chap; “but at
times I feel like a two-spot.” 3

‘Bigelow did a few fancy flourishes on the guitar.

cried.

 
 

_ 7 think it would be an excellent idea,” said Tommy
soberly.

~ “Such punishment would be capital,” laughed Dick.
“Punning,” ‘according to Sir Sidney
‘Smith, is the lowest form of wit. We expect it from
Tucker, but not from you, Merriwell.
| shooting his mouth off.”

   

 
 

said Bigelow, ‘

 
 

  
    
     

~ “Oh, I never say the right thing at the right time,”
sighed Tommy.

“Why not try keeping still?” suggested McGregor.
' “1'l] leave that to Jones. He’s a great thinker, you

”

“Let’s change the subject some,” suggested Buck-
“Let’s talk about something else

  
 

said Claxton with a
are made from fibres

» fT see by the fashion papers,”
“that dainty India muslins

     

i

  

WEEKLY.

“What do you think of my execution, fellows?’ he

He’s always |

ag ‘igh now. oe loose.”

  
       
 
  
  
   
    
   
 
 
 
   
  
 
   
         
     
 

“Excellent,” said Tucker
nice to slip on.”

“Have you an axe handy around here, Merriwell?”

“They certainly must be

inquired Jones. a
“I don’t happen to have one,” laughed Dick. “What
do you want of it?”

“Oh,

the sharp edge, that’s all.

 

I just wanted to hit Tucker on the head with
He ought to be punished.”
“Speaking of punishment,” said McGregor, “I see
where a Sunday-school teacher asked. her brightest
scholar what was Adam’s punishment for eating the
forbidden fruit.”

“Ho!” grunted Tommy suddenly.
easy. He had to marry Eve.”

“The answer is

“They tell me you're going to take morning exer-
cises to reduce your weight, Bigelow,” said Claxton.
“When do ygu begin?”

“We start from the
I’ve promised ‘to be.

“To-morrow, said Bouncer.
gymnasium for a five-mile walk.
there bright and early.”

     
      
     
     
   
         
      
      
    
  
     
    
      

said Tucker; “but you —
I don’t —

“You may be there early,”
should’ be careful about promising too much.
fancy they'll expect the other thing of you.”

“Let’s-sing something,’ urged Jones. “This re-
partee is getting monotonous.” a

“But we've sung all the popular songs,” objected —
Buckhart, “and I’m sure sick of them.”

“There’s nothing like the old songs, gentlemen,”

gs § Fie
said Claxton. “The old plantation songs,° for in-—

stance, are far superior to any of the up-to-date darky

songs. I've heard Jones sing snatches of old New
England songs which amuse me. I fancy he might —
divert us all.” . ae

 

But Blessed modestly raised prompt objection.
Nevertheless, he was. silenced, for they all turned to. |
and demanded that he should sing. %

“Well,” he said resignedly, “if I must T suppose rt
have to. But if there’s any one here carrying con- ;
cealed weapons, I insist that he disarm before I begin.’

  
      
  
  

“What ate you going to sing, Jonesy?” cried

y § y: :
Tucker. “Can I play the accompaniment for you? Ts:
it anything I know?” Dae

     
   
 
   
         
     

 
 

y

eT think,” murmured ones, “that I'll make a st o-
ger at “Miss Wrinkle.’ :

 
 

“Give me that. guitar, Big, ” said orn fe
it from Bouncer. vt WHY, T can carry that for you
Jon Say when you’re ready. Oh, hold on a min-
ute. “Here’s a string out of tune. There, she’s all

   
     
AU TOE

Jones sang in a peculiar, inimitable style which con-
vulsed them all with laughter:

“In a village there lived an old maid

Who was ne’er known for trifles to fret,
But yet she was sadly afraid

That a husband she never would get.

Miss Wrinkle was fifty, it can’t be dénied,—
Sing fal de ral lal de ral de!

Yet still to be married she constantly sighed—

\%

Sing fal de ral lal de ral de!

“Poor old girl!” murmured Tommy, rolling his eyes
upward,as he fingered the interlude.

“She went in the garret to pray,
And, hoping her prayer might be granted,
She never omitted a day
To narme in her prayers what she wanted.
For, though she was fifty, it can’t be denied—
Sing fal de ral lal de ral de!
That still to be married she constantly sighed—
Sing fal de ral lal de ral de!”
“Boo hoo!” sobbed Bigelow. ‘‘Wasn’t it a shame!”
“A thatcher one day, through the routs
At her prayers did espy this old dove.
Then he popped in his head—gave her the proof
Her devotion was heard from above :—

‘Will a thatcher do for you, Miss Wrinkle?’ quoth he—
Sing fal de ral lal de ral de!
‘For better or worse, I’ll consent,’
Sing fal de ral lal de ral de!”

replied she,

“Oh, gee! wasn’t that lovely!’ squealed. Tommy,
giving the guitar a final bang.

They all applauded, for Jones, in his solemn, whim-
sical way, was a natural comedian, and his style of
singing this song had been amusing beyond words to
describe.

_ “T have discovered,”’ said Claxton, “that the North
_or New England should have its own particular local
songs just the same as Dixie has hers. The only rea-
‘son why this isn’t true is because we people of the
- South have more sentiment. We cling to old things,
old customs, old friends and old songs, while North-
erners have no such deep attachments.”

_ “TI hardly think that’s the real explanation, Rob,”
said Dick. “Never yet has there been_a lost cause of

i, great importance and widespreading interest and sig-

nificance that it has not left sentiment deeply en-
- shrined in the hearts of those who supported it and of
‘their descendants. The lost cause of Dixie has
strengthened in the hearts of Southern people the senti-
ment and love which they bear for their own South-
land. No matter how loyal they may be to thei

¥

try as a whole, for them the South holds a cer-_

WEEKLY.

tain tenderness and affection which makes them eager
to celebrate it in legend and song. Look how Ireland
and Scotland cling to their own native airs to this day.
All the power of England can’t crush out that senti-
ment, and any effort to crush it stmply makes it flour-
With us it is different, Rob.
We Northerners have come to love the songs of Dixie
almost as much as you people of the South. _Let an
orchestra of a Boston theatre play ‘Dixie,’ and not only
will you hear thé Southern yell, but Northerners will
join most heartily and enthusiastically in the tre-
mendous burst of applause that is sure to greet that
air.

Rob nodded.

“T’ve noticed it,’’ he acknowledged, “and I’ve won-
wered if it was genuine enthusiasm or a sort of make
believe—a soothing sop thrown to the defeated.”

“It’s genuine,” asserted Dick positively. ‘There’s
no question about it. I know it’s genuine, for I, born
in the North, feel that keen emotion of pride and
pleasure when I hear ‘Dixie.’ 'If it provokes a rebel
yell I can’t help joining in that yell.
ple of the North have buried the hatchet.

ish and grow stronger.

99

Of course,

being victorious, we could do it much more easily than

you of the South. But we have no desire to rub it
in, no inclination to keep old sores open.
of the men who fought under Jackson and Lee, just
as we’re proud of those who followed Sherman and
Grant. We feel that we’re all brothers of one nation,
the greatest nation on the face of this globe to-day, and ~
bound by destiny to become still greater as the years
advance. Petty jealousy and false pride are things
which true Americans, North or South, must put —
aside.” ce
“That’s right, Merriwell,”
stantly. 3
I became a Yale man. I thihk I’ve broadened out ta 4
a right fair extent. To me the word Yankee used 103
carry a certain odium. It once seemed insufferable —
that foreigners should call all Americans Yankees, and —
I felt that I should always resent it and proclaim my- —
self a Southerner. I now understand that this word ?
Yankee, which was cast upon us as a sneer and an é
odium by Britons and which we flung back in their
teeth when we marched against their Hessian hirelings ©
to the tune of ‘Yankee Doodle,’ has come to be a word
in which there is no shame, but rather a title to be
proud of. I shall always remain a Southerner, 5 i ,
first of all I’m a Yankee and an American.” :
“Good!” cried Dick, springing forward and clasping
Claxton’s hand. “You, Rob, are a fine specimet

agreed the Virginian in-
“T’ve come to realize the truth of that since

 

 

Claxton, we péo-

We're proud s :
 

Tae oe

the modern, progressive, up-to-date young Souther-
ner’

Tommy gave
yell, and everybody laughed.

“IT presume,” smiled Claxton, “that Eben Lamb
cured me of my false ideas as much as anybody. If
ever there was a downright Yankee, Eb is it. "“e’s
one of the finest fellows I ever struck. I’d fight for
him, and I believe he would for me. If you'd told
me when I came to college that ’'d room with a
down-easter of Lamb’s description and taken such
a fancy to him, I’d thought it preposterous. I now
know that the standard of honor among Northerners
is quite as high as among Southerners, only we’ve not
understood each other. There are rascals to be found
south,of Mason and Dixon’s line, the same as on
this side of it. Some men have very little conception
of real honor.”

“Such a fellow as Silver, for instance,” said Mc-
Gregor. “By the way, what’s become of that man? I
haven’t seen much of anything of him lately.”

“T hear he’s drowning his sorrows in corn juice,”
‘said Bigelow. “They tell me he’s drinking like a
fish. Tucker ought to know about it. How is it,
Tommy?”

_ “Oh, Silver has been steaming it rather hard,” ad-
- mitted Tucker. “It’s a shame, too, for he has a fine
_ sister—one of the nicest girls I ever met.”

- “T understand you’re somewhat interested in the
~ young lady,” smiled Dick. “Is it possible you've found

_ your affinity at last, Tommy?”

_ “Oh, cut it, cut it!” cried Tucker.
with me about Stella Silver. She’s all right. Will
has been keeping company with himself a great deal
lately. He grouches it all the time.”
“They say you’ve been seen in his society more or
less,” observed Bigelow. “Now he'll be a” fine pal
for you! He'll have an excellent influence gver you,
won't he? You know your failings, Tommy—or you
ought to, anyhow.” |

_ “Don’t you worry, Big. I’m not going to kick a
man when he’s down. Will Silver is down all right,
and he feels it, too. I hardly think wen: would be one
to push him any deeper into the mire.’

an excellent imitation of the rebel

’

“You know that isn’t my style,’
ce. “But still, Bigelow is right about the influence
of such a man, Tucker. If you had 'a‘ little more
: tamina <8 °
| “Oh, that makes me tired !? interrupted Tucker)
inging the guitar aside.
rot stamina. About

now, when he’s ostracized by

*

*

“Don’t get gay

said Merriwell at -

“Tl show you fellows I’ve-

WEEKLY. . 9

everybody, Silver is in a good way to go to the bow-
vows. Is there any wonder that his sister is worried?
Is there any wonder that she should appeal to me to
stick iH her brother? I don’t believe you, Merriwell,
would be a fellow to advise me against giving Silver
a little encouragement just now. It would upset some
of my-theories concerning you if you did.”

“So Stella is her front name, eh?’ muttered Jones.
“Well, Tommy, she’s certainly got a string on you.”

Tucker flushed to the roots of his hair.

“Well, it’s not your funeral. Silver hasn’t any
friends left. His sister is away just now. I told her
I'd stick by him, and I’m going to do so. When you
see me painting the town you can talk. Until then, I
advise you to cut it out.”

“Hold on,” remonstrated Dick laughingly. “There’s
no need of warm words. I think Tucker’s motive
commendable. I might not find it to my taste to be on
friendly terms with Will Silver, but still I wouldn’t
do anything to injure him, and if I got a chance I _
believe I’d give him a helping hand. He’s-not the
first man who has permitted his passions to lead him
into a mistake. We all make mistakes, fellows, and
we should be charitable.” :

és
CHAPTER V.
THE CHAMBER OF THE “SHADES.”

Through dark, unfrequented streets Will Silver
wended hig way. Twice he stopped to look back, and
at last, having satisfied himself that he was not fol
lowed, he turned his coat collar up, pulled his soft
hat low over his eyes and plunged into a short, blind
street which was like an alley. On his right were old
wooden buildings; on his left a See dark, ‘dismal
warehouse.

At the end of the street he found a huge gate ante
a smaller gate set in it, through which people on foot —
might ‘pass. His hand discovered the catch and
opened the smaller gate. It closed behind him.

Turning, he descended some sloping ground and
cathe to the rear basement door of the old warehouse. —

In a moment he had fitted a key to the lock and
passed inside. The door was securely locked behind
him, and he found himself in deep darkness where
the air was heavy and close. |

Silver seemed perfectly familiar with his surround=
ings, for, despite the darkness, he made his ‘way to
a certain point where the dangling bulb of an ele

 
 

cap PSOE

tric lamp met his groping fingers, and as he turned on
the current a, faint.yellowish glow fell about him.

Barrels, boxes and bales of moth-eaten goods could
be faintly seen in the edge of that globule of light.
Almost beneath his foot a ring-bolt lay in a groove of
the floor. Stooping, he seized it, and with a single
pull opened a small, square trap door.

The light of the electric bulb seemed too weak to
penetrate the dense blackness that lay below. © Still
Silver displayed his absolute familiarity and confidence
by stepping down into that blackness. He did not
lower himself with the caution and care of one who
gropes for something uncertain, but planted his foot
quickly and securely upon the top rung of a ladder.
Descending, he paused with the upper part of. his
_ body ahove the floor and reached upward to the dang-
ling bulb. There was a faint snap, and the light
died in an instant.

A moment or two later a low, dull sound echoed
through the huge lower room of the warehouse. It

- was caused by the closing of the trap and the drop-.

ping of the ring bolt back into its groove.

Reaching the foot of the ladder, Silver put out his
hand and guided himself by slipping it along the face
of a wall or partition. Soon he was halted by coming
_ up against some obstruction, and then in that darkness

he pressed a spring of some sort which caused the

_ obstructing ‘surface to swing forward before him as
a door opened on its hinges. He passed through, and
i the door, if door it was, closed softly behind him with

the. faint clicking sound of a catch or a lock,

 Silver’s fingers found something they sought, and
once more he turned on a single electric light. This

lamp. was strong enough to show that he was in a
small, square room, around the sides of which, upon
wooden pegs, hung a number of singular looking gar-
ments like long black cloaks or ‘bee with peaked
hoods attached.
it He paused to count them, and smiled as he noted

that seven pegs were not in use.

Removing his hat, he unlocked a tiny box-like door
we4 in the midst of many others, all of which were num-

_bered. Silver’ s number was thirteen. Into the space

? beyond that tiny door he thrust his hat. The door

_was then closed and the key turned in the lock.

Next he took down from a peg one of those strange
_ black robes and quickly donned it over his other gar-
ments. It fell to the floor, so that even his feet were
hidden. He ar the hood over his head, and ¢ a fold

WEEKLY.

There were two large eyelets through which he could
look forth, Finding a

sh bd he wall, |
push button upon the wall, h
silence he could hear no sound in response to his
action, but that within yet another room
or chamber a buzzer had whirred, for almost instantly
As he stood waiting,

but his disguise was absolute.

e pressed it. Even in that -
he knew

the light behind him went out.

a solemn, hollow voice fell upon his ear.
“Who if it that seeks admission here?”
Immediately Silver
“A brother Shade.”
“Whence comest thou,
“From the earth above
“What seekest thou?”
““Those ane assemble in the secret chambers beneath

answered :

brother ?”

the earth.’

“What name bearest thou?’
- “No name, for in the dark regions beneath the
earth all are nameless.”

“By what word may we know that thou hast right |
to enter?”

, “Cerberus.”

As if summoned by that name, a hideous monster
which seemed to be a huge dog with three heads, the © a

body glowing like phosphorus, the eyes gleaming red :

/as coals, the three mouths growling fierctly, sprang .

into view directly before Silver. The light which
came from this horrible thing shone dimly upon him, — :
but revealed no surprise or alarm in his manner. He
did not start back or cry out; instead he stood wale
with calmness for what might happen next.

In a moment the awesome Scou ak of ne three :

thing faded into darkness. ' First vis body aia to
melt oe or be overcome P the dense gloom, ae

who’ had eis boldly ubienned it. Finally even ‘thos
six eyes vanished. 3

“Enter, brother Shade,
voice. 1 eae

‘Silver advanced. Before him all obstructior
yielded, and he felt himself touched by some on
whom he could not see in that intense darkness, Thi

’’ commanded the same hota aes

person acted as his escort, and together they cam

to still another door. Here they were ordered to came |
and give account of themselves.
- “Whom have you there, brother?” questioned “%

_ voice,

ps
ht

 

 
 

‘tae Toe

“Advance.”
On noiseless hinges the door had swung wide. To-
gether they passed beyond it, and with the same silence
it closed behind them. They halted, and then Silver
realized that he was standing there alone, for his es-
cort had left him with the stillness of death itself.
After a brief interval, a low rumbling like distant
thunder fell upon Silver’s ears, followed by a faint
wailing which resembled the sound of wind. As he
remained motionless these sounds were accompanied
by antirregular beating like the patter of hail, and
then a faint bluish flash of light raggedly tore the
darkness, while the thunder reverberated still more
loudly. 3
“Brother,”
nowhere in particular,

said a voice which seemed to come from
“thou art now standing on
the brink of the river Styx. It rolls black and fathom-
less at thy feet. Beyond lies Purgatory. If you fear,
if thy heart trembles within thy bosom, turn back ere
_ it is too late.”

~“T do not fear,” declared Silver, “for I know that
Charon will bear me safely over the river, and beyond
_it I shall have much good company.”

Suddenly all around him there were whisperings as
of scores of voices. The sound of thunder and hail
and the wailing 6f the wind had died away. Out of
_the black void before him Silver saw something ad-
¥ vancing. He heard a slight rattling sound which ran
_ over his head as if following the course of an invisible
wire. In another instant a human skeleton, every bone
gleaming distinctly with a dull glow, made its appear-
ance and moved slowly toward the waiting youth.
The bony legs of the horrible thing moved as if it
were walking, and yet it seemed to float through the

air at least a foot above the floor upon which Silver

stood. It bowed its hideous grinning head, it waved
its long arms, and a sound that was like unto a mingled
groan and wail seemed to issue from its fleshless lips.
One hand was suddenly extended toward Silver, who
-unhesitatingly put out his hand and grasped the bony
fingers. Following this the skeleton retreated, seeming
‘to float backward even as it had advanced, and at
last it disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared.

“Tt is well’ sa#d a voice. “He who comes from the
“upper regions hath proved his right to be accepted as
a brother Shade. Shall we acknowledge him?”
Three distinct knocks sounded through the chamber.

They seemed to come from somewhere before Silver,

but they were repeated in a similar manner until the
‘sound had traversed a complete circle around him.
| As this abd ceased there was a sudden crack-

-and cross-bones.

WEEKLY:

ling like electricity, and a flaring light rose from a
huge iron bowl which hung. suspended by chains from
the black ceiling that the light revealed.

This light revealed other things. Upon a platform
at Silver’s left sat three figures, one of which, in the
centre, was elevated somewhat higher than the other
two. All three of these figures were muffled in robes
similar to that worn by Silver, but upon the breast of.
the one in the centre was a design resembling a skull
In his right hand this person held
a short staff or sceptre with a small skull upon one
end. Upon the breasts of his two companions were
white Maltese crosses.

Immediately Silver bowed low before the platform.

“I salute you, Exalted Ruler of the regions of
darkness,” he said.

‘The “Exalted Ruler” lifted his hideous sceptre, re-
plying:

“In the regions of darkness there is none so exalted
that he may remain forever above the most lowly. Do
you come with a grievance to the monthly council,
or are you simply here to take part in our delibera-
tions ?”

99

“I come with a grievance,” said Silver.

first.”

“Tt is the

“You have asked nothing of your brother Shades
since three earthly moons have waxed and waned?”

“Nothing.” |

“Face your brothers and declare it.” ‘

Silver turned his back to the platform andhis face
toward four standing forms robed like himself.

“In the waxing and waning of three earthly moons,”
he said, “I have asked nothing of you, my brother
Shades. This, in truth, is the first time I have ever
asked anything.”

“Then,” said the Baler:
granted? Answer by the sign.”

Bat his réquest re

Four hands were uplifted, and each hand made a a

significant sign in the air. :
“Tt is well,” said the Ruler. “He who asks much
shall receive little. He who breaks his pledge by often.
demanding the aid of his brother Shades shall be
discovered and rebuked. We are pledged by all the
oaths of darkness to strive together to grant any
request a brother may make of us, but only once in
three moons can any one make a request. What is thy ‘
wish ?? x
“Thave anenemy. If he should be one of us, which
Tean’t believe, eP, panics is fruitless. If he is not

 
 

Bip Ve POer
one of us, which only the Exalted Ruler can know, I
demand revenge upon him.”

“His name?” questioned the Ruler.

“Dick Merriwell,’ answered Silver.

GUHAPTER: Vij
THE DEMAND,

Harvard has its mysterious and secret “Med Fae,”
whose pranks have startled Cambridge many a time.
All the efforts of the college faculty have been fruit-
less in solving the secret of this most annoying organ-
ization, nor have they been able to break it up and
put an end to it. Many times the report has gone
forth that the Med Facs would be exposed and
» punished as they deserved, and more than once it has
been said that the order was destroyed; yet each
time, after a period of silence, the members of this
obnoxious organization have proved it still existed by
some deed often more startling than anything hitherto
aid at their door.

At Yale repeated efforts have been made to forma
similar organization, but each time the project has
failed or the order has soon passed out of existence.

In Frank Merriwell’s day there was such an order,
known as the “Resurrectionists,” but that also came
to an end, bringing about its own disruption through
outrages of such a nature that the police of New

Haven took up the matter. In fear of consequences,

the “Resurectionists” disbanded forever, and no man
among them ever confessed that he had been a mem-

The organization of the Shades followed after a

ime. Perhaps never before was there
-markable secret body, for out of the membership of
more than twenty only one man, the Exalted Ruler,
knew the names of any of his fellow members, and
even he often remained in ignorance of the identity of

all save those who chanced to be accepted as new met-\
bers ve he was in pee

f Ic ghe ohitain dodcerning the tied of his com-
It a, new man was desized, as a paren ay

@ More: Tee:

WEEKLY.

signed request to reach the candidate, asking him to be
at a certain spot at a certain time. If the candidate
complied he was invariably. met by the Chief Ruler
himself, in disguise, and told something about the or-—
ganization and its purposes. Some fellows regarded it
as a huge joke, some were indignant and refused to be
.concerned and some ignored the
anonymous communication. Out of the candidates
proposed about one in four permitted himself to be
lured into the organization. If he agreed, he was
immediately Then he was led 'to this
old warehouse, and in the first chamber he was given —
a robe and hogd. When he appeared before the other
Shades for initiation his identity was hidden, and only
the Ruler knew for an absolute certainty who he was.
Of course there was more or less surmising among
those fellows, but according to one of their pledges .
they never attempted to discover if their suspicions
were correct.

At the expiration of the Chief Ruler’s term in office —
his successor was chosen by lot, and this method made»
it possible for any man among them to be aph ror is
the position.

At first these fellows who, like the great mass of ~
human beings, took delight in such secrecy and mys-
tery were simply inclined to perpetrate practical jokes —
of a more or less harmless nature, like Harvard’s Med ie
Facs. In time, however, being bound as they were —
to grant the request of atry member who should not —
call upon them oftener than once in three months, the
Shades developed . into something quite different from
the original plan. They became an organization for
revenge. Many a Yale man found himself atinoye
and persecuted in a most singular and unaccountable —
manner. Scores of surprising and disturbing things
happened to him. Perhaps some day on returning to.
his room he discovered that the room had been entered,
his wardrobe broken open and his clothes cut to tat-
ters. Perhaps he came to realize that unknown enemies
were constantly watching him and seeking to do him
injury.

in such a matter,

sworn to sec recy.

The fact that such an order existed had gradually
become known, although most Yale men were inclined
to laugh at it and ridicule the story as preposterong,

The Shades contributed liberally for the fitting up
of sleis den beneath the old warehouse, installin;

nerves of any new candidate e whe agi be ini
into the order. j

 

It was said that at l¢ast’ one man had been ise
driven out of college by these continued persecutions. .
 

FER TOP

Having announced the name of the person against
whom he held a grudge,
For a few moments dead s

Silver waited.
tlence reigned. The light
of the flaring lamp threw grotesque shadows upon the
grimy walls.
Silver knew he had startled his fellow members of
‘the order, yet they were bound to grant his request
unless some one should vote against it by dropping a
white slip into the slot of the box which was used for
_ the purpose of balloting. Such a white slip would
mean that Merriwell himself was a member of the
order, or that some bosom friend of his belonged who
refused to accede to the plan to persecute him.

“What do you ask of us?” the Ruler finally ques-
_tioried.

“T ask that this man Merriwell shall be given such
a test as only members of this order have shown them-
selves courageous enough to face. I ask that he shall

_ be brought blindfolded to this chamber and left bound

hand and foot, that I may have satisfaction upon

tan”

_, This request was so unusual that it brought mur-
_ murs of surprise from two or three of the disguised

men.

The Ruler seemed to meditate.
“Are you aware,” he finally asked,
oe. might put us in peril?”
_ “How?” demanded: Silver.
it should.”
~ “In what manner can the man be brought here
without betraying us?”

“that such a

“I see no reason why

_ “Tf you will leave that to me I’ll decoy him to some
spot in this vicinity where he may be captured. There
should be no trouble in getting him herg after that. I
have stated that he is to be blindfolded so that he
: will not be able to see where we take him.’

having brought him here, what will you do

dj “Yl scare the daylights out of him, or my name’s
not——”
_ Silver checked himself barely in time.
ted ‘his sceptre warningly.
“We are nameless here,” he reminded.
Silver bowed.
j “Even so,’ he said with a smothered laugh.
; at's not the iain ey our order,” said the Ruler,

.
The Ruler

We Moe other methods

ah: do him permanent injury.
hich are permissible.”
apt = 7 him no bodily Bey,

Db a silver,

WEEKLY.

give me great pleasure to ascertain how much nerve

he really has. Here in these lower regions, helpless
and in my power, I fancy I can take the starch out
of him. All I ask is to be left here for two hours with
We may be locked in. At the end of that time
you may return and release us If I have done him
bodily harm I’'fl suffer the consequences. It’s no more

than a good joke.”

him.

“The tone in which you spoke-his name and des
manded satisfaction upon him seemed to indicate that
if was something more than a joke,” said the Ruler.
“This matter must be voted upon by every member of
our brotherhood. In order for that time must elapse.
Once each week all our members are supposed to come
here. The name of the victim and what is demanded
shall be posted that every man may drop his,slip in
the box. Eight nights hence you shall know if your
request is granted.”

“No sooner?” muttered Silver in disappointment.

“Tt is impossible.”

“And I suppose half the members will cast white
slips.” |

“Why do you think this?”

“Oh, everybody knows how popular Merriwell is.”

“But only Merriwell himself, if a member, or some —
bosom friend of his may drop a white slip in the
box. According to the pledge by which we are bound,
no.man shall be protected simply because some one of —
us may admire him.
as public opinier believes him, you will find little satis- _
faction in your plan.” |

“Leave that to me.” heap

“Very well. The box is yonder. Those who are
present will drop their slips ere leaving to-night.” ees

On the ninth night following Dick Merriwell was ¢ F

decoyed, trapped, overpowered and carried into the _
den of the Shades. _

CHAPTER VIL.

DECOYED.

“Mr. Merriwell.”

Dick turned at the sound’ of his name.
A slender girl, meres veiled, ‘was pails toward
him. :

It was past nine in the evening, and Merriwell,

having lately left his club, was making for Durfee
jae stopped in this manner upon Church Street,

 

If Merriwell is as good a man
TEP? FOP

her face, but there was no doubt that she was young.
She was dressed somewhat gaudily.

“You’re—you're Dick Merriwell, aren’t you?”
asked in a low tone as she came up.

“I am,” he replied hat in hand.
for you?”

“Iam Stella Silver, Will Silver’s sister.
Will Silver, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he answered in surprise, “TI know him.”

Something more than an hour earlier Tucker had
told him that he was going to call on Stella Silver
that evening.

“I believe you and Will are not very friendly,”
said the girl.

Wonderingly he admitted that he could not reckon
Silver among his friends.

“Oh; I know all about Will,” she said. ‘“He’s im-
petuous and reckless, but he’s my brother.
only knew him as I do you would understand. He’s
proud, and he’s been unfortunate. If he keeps on as he
has been going of late, I’m sure something dreadful
must happen to him.”

Dick was silent, feeling not a little embarrassment.

“T can’t seem to do anything with him,”
the girl. “He won't listen to me. I know he asso-
ciates with bad companions. To-night he and Tommy
Tucker have gone together to a drinking place, where
cheap fellows congregate.”’

“Tucker?” muttered Dick in surprise.
sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, for I followed them.
know it, but I kept watch of them.”

He felt a sudden sensation of resentment and anger,
for it seemed that. Tommy had ae lfully lied to him.

“That’s why I came to you,’ continued the girl.
“Témmy ,Tucker is your friend. He thinks every-
_ thing of you. You should hear him talk about you.
I’m sure you can make him do anything you wish.
If you could only get him away from that place per-
haps—perhaps Will wouldn’t stay there,”

she
“What can I do

You know

If you

confessed

“Are you

They didn’t

Merriwell knew Tucker’s failings, for any a time
had he put himself to trouble and into danger in
order to prevent the little chap from “hitting it uf.”’
“Indeed, he had done this so often that now, for a
moment, at least, he was more than half inclined to
let Tommy go his own way. This inclination, how-
ever, he quickly put aside.
|, “I can have no influence whatever over the actions
BOF your brother, Miss Silver,” he said; “but I know
Ican handle Tucker.”

“But if you'll only try to get Will away from that

WEEKLY.

place!
ind

If you can’t do it yourself perhaps you can
Tucker—to use his persuasion.”
As he seemed to hesitate, she resorted to entreaties.
Her distress moved him, although he- fancied there
was something odd in her manner. Once she laughed,
but in a moment she was sobbing, and he decided that
she must be on the verge of hysterics.
he said, “TI
Can you tell

“If you knew where to find them,”
would do what I could, Miss Silver.
me where they are?”

“Oh, I don’t know
place, but I can take you there

“Then do so,” he urged.

Side by side they walked -hastily along the streets,
soon leaving the principal business section of the city
Dick noted that the girl wag leading the
way down into a somewhat dreary and disreputable
portion of the city.
became less frequented and poorly lighted. Grimy
old buildings of various descriptions loomed on either
hand,

the name and numbeft of the
I can show you.”

behind.

“Do you mean to say that you followed your
brother and Tucker through this wretched neighhors
hogd?” he asked. io

YY eg, sin

“Weren't you frightened ?”

“Horribly ; still, 1 was determined to see where thes 2

99

were going.

From some deep shadows two men, standing ‘toe ;
together and talking in low tones, ceased speaking
on their approach and watched them. f

The girl shrank closer to Dick, who gave her his

arm. i . yo a
Occasionally, they passed a saloon, Laborers and —
shabby looking, unkempt. men were entering and leay- —

ing these places. Rigs
Dick thought that Silver should be ashamed to have ae

his sister know he would frequent a drinking resort
in that neighborhood.

But finaly even the saloons were left Behind, and —
they were amid wooden buildings not far from the
river, ee!

“We're almost there,” said the girl, and he felt her _
hand trembling as it rested on his arm. “This is the
place—I’m sure this is*the place. They went down
this way.” erly

They had come to a black,

gloomy street,’ down
which he could see no light gleaming.

“You must be mistaken, Miss Silver,”
“There’s nothing down there.’
- - 5 }

 

 

As they progtessed the streets —
“No, Uni not Bienes I know I’m right. This is

the way. Come.’

He complied, and they followed the street, their
a, . footsteps echoing dully upon the slimy stones. With
] each moment Dick became more and more certain thate
his dompanion was mistaken, ‘This belief grew into
as they approached some wharves.
the girl snatched her

absolute assurance
Be Suddenly, with
| hand away and gave Merriwell a powerful push, which

low cry,

 

sent him staggering ito the clutches of four men, who
sprang otit from a place of concealment. Those men
had handkerchiefs tied over their faces, hiding all
_ save their eyes. Ere Dick could regain his: balance
- his,arms were seized by two of the men and another

 

struck hima blow on the head with a sandbag.
He dropped limply to the ground, stunned into uf+

‘consciousness.
When he recovered a few moments later he found:
that his arms were tightly bound to his ‘sides and that a
jaw-breaking gag.had been forced between his t¢eth
A securely tied in that position. He could see two
of those men bending over him, while another stood
near by, and the fourth was at a little distance, ap-
parently on guard.
_ The girl had disappeared.
ms Dick’s first thought was of Stella Silver. What had
become of her? He made a sudden desperate effort
o release his arms, but found he could not move them.
The. two men straightened up and whispered: to-
gether. Then one of them uttered a sibilant hiss,
vhich seemed to be a signal to. the fellow who. was
watching a short distance away.
Dick was seized and lifted to his feet.
“Walk,” whispered a husky voice in his ear.
_ At first, without their support, fe would have sumk
o the ground, for there was still a numbness in his
legs. After a few moments, however, he was able to

  

  

 
 

 
 

ee

 
  
 

   

lumber vat.

at ae paces person w ould see them. _There none

 
 
    
  

TIP TOP WEEKLY. .

hurled backward by that unexpected movement. There —

tand, pat he could make no resistance as oo hurried ‘

‘here there seemed little ‘possi

_ between you and the demons of darkness.”

> beth, which not a few college m

   
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
   
     
     
      
      
       
   
        
 
      
      
      
     
      
     
     
 
      
 

Forward again, and his feet fell upon wooden floor-
ing, while a change in the atmosphere told him that
he had been conveyed into a building. He heard the
door close behind hina. ie

Of course Merriwell was wondering what it meant.
but as
yet he seemed tunable to follow any train of thought
to a definite conclusion. The adventure reminded him
of a hazing experience he had passed through in his
early days at college; but he was a junior now, and
this meant something more than hazing. He had read
of such things in the pages of light fiction, but that
anything of this kind actually befell people: in ordi-
nary life he had doubted.

Suddenly a faint gleam of light penetrated the blind- \ —
fold over his eyes. He heard movements and sounds,
which conveyed to his mind no definite idea of what
was taking place. Then he was lifted bodily and
lowered into some place where two of his captors
grasped him and brought him down upon his feet. He
heard scrambling, scraping sounds near at hand, fol-—
lowed by a low, dull thud. The air was ee and
dense arid unpleasant to breathe.

Forced along by the hands that grasped him, he
staggered once against a solid wall and was finally
compelled to seat himself on what seemed to be ae
stout wooden chair with arms. — *

Suddenly he shot out his right fogt and planted it
with terrific force against a human body, which was |

A hundred fancies flitted through his brain,

was a gasp, a grunt, a-thid and an oath.

“Look out for his feet!’ hissed one of his captors. —
“Don’t get near thém. Hurry up with that rope.” 1

He felt a rope wound round and round his body, —
binding him fast to a chait. His legs and ankles
were encircled by it, ahd im the end he sat there,
blindfolded, gagged and utterly helpless. ee

   
 
 
    
      
  

3

- CHAPTER VIII.

 

THE FIRE TRAP,

‘They left hit.
hare well, Dick Merriwell, ” said one in a low, whe
natitral voice which seemed disguised. “Keep a stout
heart, for henceforth not even the Shades” will stand

int

 
 

  
        
 

The Shades! ade
Dick had heard more or less of this terion

 
 

 

 
PEF TOP
clared a disgrace to Yale. He knew at last into what
power he had fallen. He knew he had been singled
out as a victim by these fellows who belonged to an
order even more mysterious and secret than any of
the regular college fraternities.

Ere the last of his captors disappeared the blisid
fold was whisked from his eyes and the painful gag
loosened until it dropped from between his jaws.

But every light had been extinguished, and he was
sitting in darkness. He heard their footsteps retreat
and die away. He heard the faint sound of a closing
door.

“Well, here’s a fine scrape!”
“Dick Merriwell, you’re up against it.
fancy you'll live through it,
before you.”

He tried to make himself believe he was comfort-
able, although the strong cords had partly checked
the flow of blood in his arms and body, giving him a
sort of benumbed feeling.

Above his. head he fancied he

they quickly passed on and ceased.

The silence of that place was like the stillness of

atomb. It gave hima horrible feeling of being buried
alive.
. Nevertheless, thinking it possible some of his cap-
tors had lingered near to enjoy his discomforture or
any fears he might manifest, he kept still for a long
time,

“They must feel certain no one could hear me if
I shouted,” he decided, “and so I will not shout.”

Possibly there is nothing more terrifying than ab-
solute and continued darkness and silence. It is what
breaks the nerve and spirit of a rebellious prison bird

when he is cast into a dungeon. The very silence
seems palpable, and the darkness closes in and _ be-
comes oppressive like a smothering wave. Little by
little Dick felt an increasing desire to cry out, to shout,

he mumbled thickly.
However, I

same as other fellows

heard footsteps, but

sto. shriek. He set his teeth and held the inclination

in check. | |
___ It seemed hours that he sat there waiting, waiting
4or something. Dull pains crept through his body, and
his head throbbed from the effect of the blow which
had stricken him down. In their sockets his eyes
began to smart and burn. Faint imaginary specks of
light glowed here and there in the blackness, appear-
_ ing and fading like dull, phosphorescent eyes. De-
spite his judgment and reason, he formed a fancy that
! the walls which surrounded him were slowly and
surely closing in upon him, making the air denser

and more difficult to breathe. He even imagined that

WEEKLY:

he could hear the slightest sort of a movement as those
walls drew nearer and the ceiling above his head skt-
tled.
feel the walls and ceiling touch his body, moving re-
lentlessly bit by bit until they should crush and squeeze

He began to think of the time when he should

him as an apple is squeezed in a cider press.

Yet;
the
they threatened to strangle him. He was cold and
numb, and he felt great beads of icy perspiration
It was indeed a fearful test

with his jaws tightly clenched, he held back

rolling down his face.
upon his nerves.

Suddenly he was startled by hearing a low, faint
rumbling like distant thunder.

f
“It must be a heavy truck passing over the stones of

was his thought.

and louder, until it reverberated
through that chamber of darkness with all the deaf-
ening ctash and roar of thunder

{
some near by street,”
But it grew louder

itself.
Next his eyeballs seemed seared by a flash of light

which appeared to zigzag through the blackness not , —

,

more than ten feet distant.,

Accompanying this there rose a fitful, intermittent —
sard what seemed

wailing, as of a wild wind, and he h
to be the patter and rattle of hail drops.

He actually welcomed these things now, for they
were a relief to that awful darkness and silence.
even laughed. ;

“Tt tells me I’m not alone,” was his thought. “Some
one is near, working this little game for my benefit.”

The sounds died away, and the light ceased to gleam

and flare. : /
Slowly, solemnly,

the distinct strokes of a heavy bell. He counted them,

and they ceased with the thirteenth stroke.
“Tt is the hour of doom,” said a solemn,

ticular. ; /

Then Dick spoke : ae
he said. ¢

“T advise you to have your old alpete fixed,”
So: s working over time.’

There was a hiss, a snarl, a sudden furious barking,
hat of a dog —

and he saw a monstrous figure like t
with three heads. The body -gleamed yellowish white,

while those moving heads took on a deeper glow and ;

the eyes burned like living fire. Apparently the crea-
ture was on the point of springing at the helpless a
tive.

“Well,” said Dick, “this is the first time I’ve ‘ea:
the pleasure of meeting old Cerberus, Hitherto I
supposed him a myth.”

sounds which seemed forming in his throat until,

~

He pa

as if from a great distance, came

awesome _
voice which seemed to come from nowhere in par-

 

 
arg reins aeee Siete ewiegetareniegnnitorernenn oN Pak

 

ek eee

The thing vanished as suddenly as it had appeared,
and the stillness which followed that horrible growl-
ing and barking was intensified by the recent clamor.
A few minutes passed, and then, one after another,
three knocks, many times repeated, sounded from a
score of pla¢es on every side.

“Come in,” said Dick cheerfully.

As if in response to this invitation, a figure seemed
to step out of the darkness before him—the figure of
a human skeleton, every bone glowing with a faint
The eyes, the nostrils and the mouth
were dark caverns in the skeleton’s skull.

white light.
It moved.
It lifted its arms and seemed to walk toward Dick
Merriwell upon empty air.

“T hate to be unsociable, old chap’,’ said Dick; “but,

not having the use of my arms, I can’t shake hands
with you.

Sit down and make yourself at home.”
The thing halted, and he could see it vibrating and

swaying slightly as if it hung suspended by some un-

seen appliance.
“Lovely evening,’ said Dick; “but you rose an

hour late, old fellow. According to tradition, you

ought to be up and doing at-twelve o’clock instead of

thirteen.” ,

A moaning groan seemed to come from the throat
of the grisly thing. Again it mowed forward, ap-
proaching slowly but steadily. As it drew near it put
out both its arms as if to enfold the captive.

“Come with me,” said that hollow voice—‘‘come
with’me to the land of the dead.”

“Thanks awfully,’ returned Dick. “It’s kind of

you to invite me, but you see I’m sort of detained here.

Some very agreeable chaps took the trouble of: tying
me to this chair, and I can’t wiggle. If you’ll have the

goodness to release me, I'll come.”
The thing touched him with its bony hands. The
reflected glow of the light emnating from the skeleton

fell upon his face—and he was smiling! With a ter-
-rible shriek, the skeleton suddenly fled, retreating

with its face still toward Dick.
‘rp ‘ 99 . 4
“That’s clever,’ observed Merriwell. “You seem to

travel backward much more easily than the other way.

Still, I presume it doesn’t make any difference to a

chap like you whether you go backward or forward.” ~

The skeleton paused. Something like a dense fold-

ing cloud passed before it, and it was gone.

“Really,” said Dick, speaking aloud, “my friends

have taken a lot of pains to entertain me.”

He waited patiently for further developments. The

_time which elapsed became so protracted that his pa-
_tince was, threatened, and finally he cried:

Pt ee ee ee

-

WEEKLY. 17
What’s

“Come, come, this is getting lonesome.
next on the programme?”

His answer was a hissing, cracking sound and a
flash of bluish light ‘which rose from what skemed to
That light il-

lumined the chamber in a flaring, uncertain manner,

be an iron pot suspended in midair.

but it seemed to reveal that the captive was quite alone.

“They ought to put in electricity or gas,” said Dick.
“This seems to be a most antiquated, old-fashioned
contrivance.”

Despite Merriwell’s apparent coolness, he was angry
and resolved that some one should pay dearly for the
privilege of working such clap-trap jugglery upon him.

Once more the skeleton made its appearance and
came gliding swiftly toward him with a slight vibrat-
ing sound as if it moved along an unseen wire. It
was waving its arms frantically.

“Hello,” cried Dick, “I thought you were ‘gone.
Back again, are you?”

One of the skeleton’s waving arms struck the sus-
pended iron pot. With a crash, the thing fell to the
floor, and its contents poured forth, a mass of blazing
oil.

“Your chandelier is down,” said Dick.

Then he realized that the flames were spreading
quickly. In a moment the place would be on fire.

“Whoever is running this show,” cried Merriwell,
“had better get busy with this incipient conflagration.”

A figure in a long black robe and a peaker hood

sprang forth from some dark place of concealment and 2

sought to stamp out the flames. As well might he
have tried to dam a river with his feet. With every
effort the burning oil flew in all directions and the
fire spread. Smoke began to fill the chamber. ;

“Look out! look out!’ cried Dick excitedly. “Your —
robe is afire!” of he

It was true The burning oil had been spattered |
on the fellow’s robe, which began to burn fiercely. —
The man sought to beat it out with his hands, and —
then, seeing that the effort was useless, he made haste _
to tear the robe from his body and fling it aside,

The light of the fire reyéaled that the fellow was —
Will Silver. a
“No use, Silyer,” said Dick. “You've raised Hail
Columbia now. Set me free and let’s get out of here.”
“We'can’t get out!” palpitated Silver.
“Why not?”
“The door is locked.”
“But you have a key.
“It’s locked from the outside.
us in here together.”

3%?

I told them to lock

 
}
/

against it.

| “with Stella Silver.

(cies FOr

We must do
unless we wish

“Then be lively about releasing me.
our level best to conquer these flames,
to die like rats in a trap.”

Silver filled He
coughed and strangled as the smoke filled his lungs.

was with the utmost terror.
From his pocket he produced a jack-knife and began
slashing wildly at the cords which held Dick Merri-
well to the chair.

“Steady,” wheezed Dick,
smoke and feeling the scorching heat of the flames.
“Keep your head. You're wasting time, and every
second is precious.”

After a while Silver succeeded in freeing Merri-
well.

“Off with your coat!’ shouted Dick.
if we can’t put out the fire.”

They stripped off their coats and fought the flames
with frantic desperation.

_“Where’s the door? Can’t we break it open?”
asked Dick. ~~“ /

_ Silver staggered to the door and flung his body
The shock caused him to stagger back
and drop to the ground, but he rose with a wild cry
of despair.

“We're done for, Merriwell!’’ he screamed chok-
“We're both dead men!”

almost smothered by the

**Let’s see

ing! ys

CHAPTER IX.
TUCKER ON THE TRACK,

Tommy Tucker stopped and stared, then he whistled

‘softly to himself.

_ “Wonder who nese friend ist ft: i muttered, his

| ‘gi

Tommy was in a sad mood, for he hae quarreled
He had not fibbed to Dick when
he stated he was going to call on as Silver that

‘poned the call to diather stink va he might brave

found her in a more agreeable mood. Her tongue

had stung ‘him with laughing sarcasm until he lost his

ad and retorted disagreeably. From this the quarrel

eae, to its freight 1 in a Coe and Tucker lost |

. veiled girl,

Rebs)

Crk Somet |

WEEKLY.

“Dick said he was going to look for a game
Claudia Claxton is not in.
That’s not

chap.
of billiards at the club.
New Haven. June Arlington is not here.
Doris Templeton, for Doris isn’t as tall.”

He stood there until Dick and the girl had nearly
vanished from sight, and then, of a sudden, he wheeled
and followed them. Why he did this he could not
have told.

Tucker’s surprise and mystification increased as he
was led from the well-lighted and frequented streets —
down into a dark, unpleasant section of the city«near
the river front.

“What the dickens is Merriwell
lated.

Finally he lost sight of the pair. They had disap-—
peared, and he halted, wondering whither they had
gone. Standing there scratching his head in perplex--

up to?” he specu-

ity, Tommy began to believe that he would see no

more of them that night. wy

“T’m a bum shadower,” he growled to himself. “IT - |
never was cut out for the busines. Ill have a few
questions to ask Mr. Merriwell. Perhaps he won’t
answer them, ba I’ll have the satisfaction of aking |
just the same.’

He had turned away, when forth from a dark siieer
at his right came the girl. She was running, and she
did not seem to see Tucker, Tommy started after
PGMS rhe: Tea

“Wait a minute!” he called. “Where’s Dick?”

She heard him, and glancing round, discovered that 4
he was following her. Her speed increased instantly,
and she darted round the nearest corner.

“Well, you'll have to sprint some, my lady,”
Tommy, as he let himself out. “ya
But when he turned the corner he could see nothing
of the girl.

After running a full block he stopped and con-
sidered,

“She dodged me,” he said,
into a doorway somewhere,” Ui

‘Retracing his. steps, he sought to discover the girl :
hidden somewhere in a doorway, but ‘not a sign of her
could’be found.

“Oh, I’m a prize winner!” sneered 1 Tucker,

/ought to have a leather medal! But, ‘Say, what be-
came of Dick Merriwell ?”

rasped.

“She must have darted

ne

ag

 

 
 

Enithnn ep dherm eaters er ee

TIP TOP WEEKLY. 19

“Something’s happened to Dick,’ he whispered.
“They must have gone down this street together.”

Stepping lightly and swiftly,
dark street until he reached the wharf. He found
no one there, and had turned to retrace his steps when
he fancied he espied moving figures at a distance.

In that direction he plunged, and found himself di-
rectly in an old lumber yard. Through the darkness
he now saw beyond doubt several moving figures.
With all the care and caution he could command, he
followed them.

Round and round a single block Tucker followed
those unknown persons. Eventually he saw them go
down a blind street, and when he had likewise crept
down that street he came to a huge high gate. In
that gate he * ind yet another gate, which he opened.

“They had to go this way,” he whispered to himself.
“They couldn’t get back past me without being seen.”

His footsteps finally brought him to the rear of
the old warehouse, and there he halted, for he could
proceed no further, and the ones he sought were not
to be discovered.

“I’m going to apply to the Pinkerton Agency for

-a job!” he snarled softly. “I ought to draw a high
salary. Now how did they skip me? They haven't.
They couldn’t get by me without being seen. They
came here. But where in Sam Hill are they?”
_ Finally he found the basement door of the ware-
house, and as he stood before it his mind became ab-
sorbed with the idea that the ones he sought had
passed beyond that door. He tried to open it, but
without avail. , a

“What goes up must come’ down,”
“and who goes in must come out. I’m going to camp

tight here and wait for them to come out,
to wait all night.”

In one corner of that back yard there were a few
old boxes piled, and behind these Tucker concealed
himself. To Tommy it seemed that the twenty min-

said Tucker,

utes he spent there were several hours, yet he waited

with as much patience as he could command.

In time he was well rewarded. A slight sound
caused him to start and peer forth eagerly from his
place of hiding. In the darkness he could not see
the basement door of the warehouse, but he felt sure
that it had been opened. He was not mistaken, for,
one after another, he beheld some dark figures which
came forth and hurried away. :

_. Tucker had found a short, stout club, which he held
‘grasped in his fingers. His fear that he would again
be foiled caused him to hurry from his place of con-

he slipped down the:

if I have

cealment. He fancied all those fellows had come forth,
but as hé drew near he discovered that the door was
still standing somewhat ajar,

“There are others to céme,” thought Tommy; “but
when they get out they’ll lock the door behind them.
It’s up to me to get in quick if I’m going to do so
at an”

He darted forward, and in the very doorway he
encountered the fourth man, who had fitted a key
in the lock and was on the point of closing the door
behind him.

Without pausing to consider the consequences,
Tucker swung his club and*struck the fellow down.

CHAPTER XX.
THE RESCUE.

As he saw the man drop at his feet and lie there

motionless, Tommy was thrilled with horror by his —

own desperate, thoughtless act.
“T’ve killed him!’ he whispered.

For some moments he was threatened with a panic

which came near forcing him to take to his heels.
Then he thought of Merriwell.
perhaps these fellows had perpetrated some horrible

He thought that —

Sgt sn

crime with Dick as the victim, and once more his oe

blood moved in his body.
Shaking like a leaf, Tommy beht over the fallen fel-»
low, seeking to see his features, but the darkness was —

so deep that he could only make out that the man ~

was young and beardless.

Fumbling in his pockets he found a match and at-

tempted to strike it. The head broke off, and he was
forced to try a second match.

The tiny flame flared up suddenly, and its light
dazzled Tucker’s eyes for an instant.

“It’s some one I’ve seen,” he thought.
Yale man. Yes, by Jove, I know his name!
Medic.’ His name is Dunbar—Carl Dunbar.”

But now Tucker was filled with a renewed sensa-—

tion of dismay and horror over what he had done,

for Carl Dunbar, a medical student, was a somewhat —
Al
though he was the son of wealthy parents, Dunbar
had never displayed caddishness, and he had numer- ;

popular man who. bore an excellent reputation,

ous friends among his own set.
“I’ve made a blunder,” whispered Tucker—“a ter-
rible blunder. This fellow could have nothing against

Holding it to
one side, he looked at the face of the senseless chap. —
“He’s a

He’s a

 
 

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

Mertriwell. What he was doing here I can’t conceive,
but it is none of my business.”

Tucker sought for a wound upon Dunbar’s head,
but could not find that the man’s scalp was even
broken. Dunbar’s felt hat had served, in a measure,
to protect him from the full violence of the blow by
which he had been stunned. |

Tucker placed his hand over Dunbar’s heart. At
first he could detect not even the slightest flutter, but
finally he was sure it was beating faintly beneath his
fingers.

Suddenly the man’s breast heaved and he drew a
deep, long breath. He was recovering, and he groaned
a bit, moving his hand and muttering.
wR least, he isn’t dead,’”’ said Tommy.

_ Then, to his amazement and terror, Dunbar mut-
tered:

“Not dead! not dead!
- promised—he’s promised”
“Silver! hissed Tommy, thrilling through and
through. “Silver is Dick’s bitter enemy. There’s
something behind this that I’ve not fathomed. I be-
_ lieve Dick is near here somewhere. He may be in this
_ old warehouse.”

 “What—what happened to me?” mumbled Dunbar,
making an effort to rise and falling back limply.
“Something dr opped—dropped on my-—head. I saw—
bright lights.”
 “He’s all right,’

Silver won’t kill him, for he’s

’ decided Teller in great relief. oae

I haven’t. fractured his skull with that blow, he’ll re>

He’s recovering now. He mustn’t see and
recognize me. I’m going to search through this build-

He drew back swiftly, rising to his feet. In a mo-

n ent he had removed the key from the outer side of

the door and inserted it in the lock from the inner
side. Backing into the darkness of the doorway with
the door held slightly ajar, Tommy waited and
watched the man he had struck down
For some moments Dunbar continued to- stir and
mutter, but eventually he struggled to a sitting’ posi-
tion, where he rentained for a, time with his head he-
tween his hands. : 7
“Great Caesar!” whispered the w atcher.
came so near killing anybody i in all my life.
Il never come so near it again. |
| I ae rae worse comes of

“T never

search,
ceiving no answer save that sent back by the lox
I hope dead echoes.

: ‘He'll have a bad

thought, “this one may prevent them from coming in.
on me.”
The place in which

gloomy and dismal enough.

he now found himself was
Despite the darkness of

the night, he could perceive the outlines of a few high

windows, but all around him lay a sea of blackness.

After moving forward a short distance and stumbling _

against some obstruction, Tommy began lighting
matches for the purpose of ascertaining what his sur-
roundings might be. He beheld the old bales and—
boxes and piles of goods, and amid that mess of stuff
he followed a sort of clearing, which finally brought
him to the foot of a flight of stairs.

Pausing there, he guardedly called Dick’s name
a number of times. Something like 2 ghostly. echo
was his only answer. 3
He mounted the stairs to the next floor.
“T’m glad I’ve got plenty of matches,”’ he hispdben
“Without them I could never explore this building.”

From floor to floor he went until he had climbed to ne
the topmost story, and nowhere could he find a sign”
of the man he sought. i

“It’s mighty- queer,” he said in disappointment. “I
suppose I was mistaken. What's that?” yet

o

To his ears came a faint jarring rumble, whtell
seemed to rise from somewhere beneath 1 his feet and
gave him an impression like\that which might have
been caused by the slightest tremor of an earthquake.

“Tt wasn’t thunder,” whispered the startled explorer.
“Of course it wasn’t an earthquake. What was it?
Was it a truck moving trpon some near by SECEEE: It
must have been.”

A rustling sound near at ‘hand caused him to iui

and turn quickly. Somett ung fled past him with a

soft pattering sound. His blood was filled with a
chill as he thought of ghosts and wondered if the old
warehouse was haunted; but a moment later he
laughed with relief, for a squeaking sound solved the
mystery. | ge

“Rats,” he muttered.
of them here.”

EOE course there are plen 3

Descending from floor to floor, he conten ne
now and then calling Dick’s name, but ree

From the upper windows. he had looke
out and seen the lights of the city gleaming against
the sky, and their faint reflections had sifted in upor
him; but as he descended the darkness ioe grew
mee and more palpable. |
In bali of his failure, he could not rid himself °.

ee

 

 
* _ a night.

 

Vie Or

He had seen Merriwell in company with that
and they had vanished; next he
It was

hand.
strange, veiled girl,
had seen the girl running away as if terrified.
most suggestive of some dark deed well befitting such
And then the words of Dunbar, dazed by
the blow, had added to his conviction tHat he had not
gone wholly astray in his efforts to follow his van-
ished friend.

Strange, horrible fancies began to possess him. In
spite of his reasoning that such a thing was prepos-
terous and impossible, his imagination led him to see
Dick Merriwell, dead and covered with gory wounds,
hidden away somewhere beneath the rubbish and truck:

of the old storehouse. He even saw himself lifting

- the debris with which his dead comrade had been con-

cealed. He felt almost as much horror over this purely
imaginary discov ery #S he would have felt had it been
genuine.
It was an ePperierive Thomas Tucker would not
soon forget.
ete ‘When he had once more arrived on the lower floor
and was moving toward.the door, he could not cast
aside the distinct impression that he was leaving be-
hind him that for. which he had sought. A few
‘matches remained, and he lighted one of them, holding
it above his head to look around. Swinging from a
cord, an electric Bulb, not more than four feet above
_ the floor, attracted his attention.
ie “Ot course there’s not electricity in this old build-
f ne he ‘sale but he put out his hand and turned

Seis to me I can
“Hark!” !

smewhere he seemed to hear smothered bate!

ah “Am I D ahat: tis fit c Aaetoieaen
Then from beneath his feet came the sound of
ws. He perceived the slight jar which accompanied

ia eyes fell on the ringbolt in the floor. They fol-
d the outlines of the trap door. Stooping sud-

he seized that ringbolt and lifted with all his
_ The trap was opened, and upward’ around —

WEEKLY, 21

him belched a thin cloud of smoke, while to his ears
came the crashing of those blows.

He was frantic.

“Dick! Dick!’ he shouted. “Dick, are you there?”

A faint, dull gleam of light seemed to pierce the
smoke which filled that pit. At the same time there
was a distinct smashing, as if an obstruction of some
kind had been beaten down. Tucker was on the point
of dropping blindly and recklessly through the trap,
when a human head appeared amid the smoke—two
human heads, for one man was bearing another half
flung over his shoulder. They rose, and Tommy, on
his knees, seized the human burden which one of
those two men was bearing. With all his strength he
dragged Will Silver up through the trap, seeing Dick
Merriwell following as he mounted the ladder.

The flames seemed to pursue them, and even as

they reached the floor on which Tucker stood the pit

beneath became a’ crackling, roaring mass of fire,
belching smoke into the great toorh above.

Silver, still.conscious, was strangling and gasping
and coughing upon his hands and knees.
well was likewise gasping for breath, but he had fore-
thought enough to seize the trap door and close it |
with a slam.

“Heavens, Merriwell! what does this mean?” pala fi
tated Tommy. A
“No time—for words,”

4

seme Dick.
get out of here. The fire

Tommy aided him in dragging Silver to his feats
and between’ them they pulled the reeling man toward
the basement door.
was lost in opening that door, and they half fell, half
staggered out into the pure, open air.

4

CHAPTER XL.

PAUSES TO CONSIDER.

“Find a fire box and turn in the alarm, Tommy,
said Ditk, as they hastened away, still assisting Silver.

‘ Behind them they could see nothing of the fire, but |
they knew it was eating its way through the basement.

DICK

floor and, unless soon checked, must finally burst forth —
with fury enough to destroy the. building. :

Dick Merri- —

‘,

“We must Ak

The key being in the lock, no time —

1

eae

At a corner not far away Tucker found a fire box ;

and pulled the alarm lever. —

“Now we'd better hike,’ he. said, running, after
Dick and Silver. “If we don’t want to be questio le
we'd better get away from here Bs Ke:

 
at tion or two.

cleverness, to the old warehouse.
. striking Dunbar down and thus gaining admission to
the building Dick stopped him. |

his head in his hands,”

- door behind me.
e find him there when we came out.”

But Dunbar at that yery moment was sitting in

ee ee oe
; -

Se nn ee ees eee

iP Lor

A short time later, as they were hurrying toward
the college, the clanging bell of a fire engine echoed
through the streets. The engine came tearing around
@ corner with the horses at full gallop, and swept past
them, pursued by a few men and many boys.

Merriwell and Silver both being hatless and coat-
less, there was some danger of attracting attention
to themselves, and as far as possible they followed side
streets until they were near the college buildings.

Silver had nothing.to say. When they arrived at
the campus he made for his own dormitory.

Tucker and Dick encountered a few students who
gazed at them in curious wonderment, but they kept
on without paying heed to any one until they reached
Merriwell’s room. |

To Dick’s surprise, Buckhart was not there. Brad’s
Books lay open upon the study table, but the Texan
was gone. He had gone out to look for Merriwell,
wondering that Dick, while in training, should with-
out making some statement in advance, remain away

gf. tO such an hour.

“Now tell me” cetmanged Tucker—“telk me what
this business means.”
— “7 think I'll wash up, Tommy,” said Dick. “I must
be foul with dirt, and I know my throat and lungs are

' coated with smoke.”

Tommy stuck by him, and in the bathroom he

a simply plied him with excited questions.

said Merriwell, “I’d like to ask you a ques-
How the dickens did you happen to be
in that old warehouse?”

Tommy explained somewhat incoherently, yet he
made it clear that he had followed Dick and the veiled
girl and been led at last, through chance or his own
When he told of

“First,”

“Dunbar?” said Merriwell—“Carl Dunbar do you

-mean, “Tucker ?”

“That’s the fellow. I’d like to know w hat became

: of him. I certainly cracked him a beaut on the cocoa-
nut. I thought I’d fixed him. I swear, I was sdared.”

“Carl Dunbar!” murmured Merriwell as if almost

i. Mercediiloits.

“So he was one of them!’

“T left him sitting on the ground outside, holding
said Tucker. “I locked the
Somehow, I more than half expected

his own room yainly op dering: what fad happened

WEEKLY.

to him. For a time he had wandered dumbly upon
the: streets, his mind in a dazed condition. At last
he had encountered a friend who had taken him to
his room, but who could get no explanation from his
lips.

“Tommy,” said Dick, ‘“‘you’ve heard of the Shades?”

“The Shades!” cried Tucker. “I’ve heard of them,
but I never took any stock in the stories about them,”

“T’ve had an experience to-night with that organi-

It was into the hands of the Shades that I
¥.

zation.
was decoyed by—by that girl.

“They sandbagged me and took me into the old
warehouse, where various ridiculous effofts were made
to scare me into fits.’’

“But the fire, Dick—the fire? You don’t mean that
they tried to roast you alive—you and Silver?”

“That was an accident, Silver was the man who ma-
nipulated certain devices to upset my nerve. He and
I were left there in the secret chamber of the Shades ©
—left and locked in by the fellows you saw, of whom
Carl Dunbar was evidently one. In time those fellows
meant to return and release us. I have a fancy that _
even they did not fully trust Silver, knowing his

hatred for me, and they meant to make sure that the es

man did me no real bodily injury. As he could not
escape until they should free us, it was not 7 he
would carry his hatred to a dangerous extreme.” 5
“Well, he’s a fine bird!’ snarled Tommy. “I don’t |
see how a fellow like him can have a decent sister.” —
“T do,” said Dick. But still, ©
I’m not sure it applies to him.” Sakae
“What do you mean?”
“Tucker, the girl who led me into that trap gave
her name as Stella Silver.”
Tommy staggered.
“Preposterous!” he cried.
“That’s how she fooled me,”

. “T’ve seen such cases,

“Wait a:
minute and let me explain why I was chump enough,

said Dick.

to be decoyed. I met the girl on the street. She was —
agitated and spoke to me, calling me by name. She ©
told me she knew I was your friend, and then she
stated that you and Silver had gone to a low drinking —
resort to which she had traced you. She appealed to —
me, and I, without stopping ‘to question her as closely _
as I should, allowed myself to be fooled. I’m ashamed
of it, Tucker.”

“She lied!” snarled the little fellow furiously.

“Yes,” nodded Dick. “At the request of her
brother she lured me\into the trap. I ‘don’t know
what sort of a story he put up to her. He may have
told her it was nothing but a practical joke. ‘He may

 

 
 

CIP ee

have led her to believe it a simple matter of hazing,
' But at any she lied to me.”

“Dick, that was not Stella Silver.”

“Wasn't it?” asked Mertiwell quietly.

“No. I saw that girl. It is true I couldn’t see her
face on account of the veil, but I it was not
Stella. Why, not half an hour before I saw you
- with her I left Stella Silver at home. We had a little
_ misunderstanding I was
_ hasty, perhaps, and I said some things I should not
_ have said. Then I got out. I was walking to cool
myself off when I chanced to see you. No. Dick, it
was not Stella Silver.”

“T hope you’re right, Tommy.”
~“Tknow lam. [know lam! Great Halifax, what
amix-up! Dick, what are you going to do about it?”

rate,

know

a slight disagreement.

I haye to have time to
If I followed my inclina-
1 Will Silver to the
rage toward

“T haven't quite decided.
think such matters
tions at this moment I w ial push
linit, for I am filled with unspeakable
In such a time the only thing for me to do
ebbs somewhat and I can

Over

the man.
is to wait until my anger
think more calmly.”
“You lugged him out of that pit.
» life.”
ere oy fancy I did, Tommy, for he was completely over-
‘come by smoke and terror. The man was helpless.
‘I found a heavy iron bar with which I smashed down
those locked doors. Silver did nothing. I was on
the point of trying to get out when I saw him crawling
after me on his hands and knees, and then I gave him
Me ich assistance as I could.”’

‘ct

You saved his

papers. If the reporters could only get hold of the

facts it would make a page for the Sunday yellows.”
“Many Yale men deny the existence of the organ-
zation known as the Shades,” said Dick. “There’s
© question now but such an order does exist. I'know
tw of its members. One is Will Silver, and the other
1 Dun! par.
pon those two men, Tucker, one thing I promise
here and now, and that is that I’ll break up this
fernal organization called the’Shades. I'll put an
to it as true as my name is Merriwell.”

don’t blame you, not a bit,” said Tommy. “But
of Carl Dunbar being one of them! Why, he’s
», Metriwell. He’s opt

“By Jove! this would be a sensation for the news-_

Whatever personal revenge I may take.

to tell Buckhart now.

WEEKLY 23
he belongs to such a crowd, and yet I know that decent
fellows often get mixed up with bad company.  Doubt-
less in the first place the Shades were simply a bunch
of men who sought to obtain a certain kind of sport
and diversion from their organization. Little by
little they have developed into a disgrace to the col-
lege. All efforts to discover disband them have
proved fruitless, but at last they have overstepped
themselves. At last I have it in my power to disgrace
two of them, and unless I feel certain that I can break
up that band I’ll put the screws on Will Silver and
Carl Dunbar.”

“By George, Merriwell, it’s
Silver’s sister.
fine little girl.
He’s got a mother who is proud of him.
to be a dreadful blow for her,” — 3

Merriwell stood frowning darkly, his eyes fastened
on the floor, his face hard and grim.

“I suppose you're right, Tucker,” he said; “but
sometimes the innocent have to ey for the guilty.
Silver has ek a dangerous man.’

and

going to be tough on —
She’s an awful
Silver has decent people, you know. |
It’s going

[’'m sorry for her,

”

“But you sai you didn’t think he meant to do you t
bodily injury.”

“No, because he didn’t dare.”

“Dick, I hope you won’t be too hasty.”

“Justice is justice, Tucker. These fellows have
been the cause of the destruction of property to- “night,
It may be that the old warehouse will burn to the

ground. Who is going to settle for that?”

j
“T don’t know.” ‘#.

“Possibly you.and I were seen and recognized a as.
-we hurried through the streets. I was coatless and-

’hatless. To-morrow I may be pulled up and questioned”

by parties seeking to learn the truth about that fire.
If Iam, Tucker, I’ll have to tell the truth, won’t- 1?”
“Yes, you will,” said Tommy, “for you never lie.’
“Not about vital things, anyhow. You know a
great writer has said that, “There are some falsehoods
on which men mount as on the bright wings of heaven.
‘There are some truths, cold, bitter, taunting | truths,
wherein your worldly scholars are véry apt and puti -

tual, which bind men down to earth with leaden chains,

When I have learned the full result of this night’

work I'll decide on my course. I’m not even going
I shall keep my own counse

for a while, and you had better do the same, Tominy.
To- HOT at we'll take , matter into consideration
again,” :

' When Brad Buckhart returned a ‘inne time

 
 

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

CHAPTER XII.

THE END OF THE “SHADES.”

‘The morning papers told of the burning of the old
warehouse and stated that the fire must have been
incendiary. The building and its contents, it was
said, were fully covered by insurance.

Buckhatt was attending a morning lecture when
Merriwell, pacing the floor of his room and conning
a lesson, heard a kmock at the door.

“Come in,” he called.

Carl Dunbar, somewhat pale but otherwise looking
well, entered the room.

Merriwell turned and faced the man squarely.

Dunbar hesitated a moment.

“Merriwell,” he finally said, his voice a bit un-
steady, “I’ve come to tell you that I’m greatly re-
lieved to find you safe and unharmed.” :

Dick’s dark eyes seemed to pierce the man like dag-
gers.

“It’s time you came,”

9

ta . .
he said. “I was waiting for
“Waiting for me? “Then you expected
“That either you or Silver would come.
is Silver?”

Where

~“J—I saw him a short time ago. He’s in a per-
fect panic, Merriwell. He didn’t have the courage
to. face you.”

“Plainly Silver is a coward,” was Dick’s cold, piti-
less statement. “I’ve never before fancied you a
_ cowagd, Dunbar, but circumstances seem to prove that
_. you are.” é one
The visitor lifted an open harid, then let it drop
e limply at-his side. His head was bowed, and he spoke
_ inva low tone.
| “Perhaps you're right, Merriwell,” ne said, “and
still I had the courage to come to you.”

“Courage! ’’ scoffed Dick. “Did it take peourage at

“Did you—did you know that I was

“Yes, I knew.”

- “T- didn’t understand what happened to me,” said
‘Dunbar; “but I suppose it: was some one of your
friends who gave me that crack on the head. When I
recovered I couldn’t remember what had happened. I’ve
spent a miserable night. This morning I remembered
that some one leaped at me as I stepped out through
that doorway. I saw the account df the fire in the
papers. Then I went to Silver, and he—he told me
how you escaped.”

“Where: were Zour posnpanionst Where were the

property last night.

other fellows concerned in that piece of business? Why
didn’t they come to you about it?”

“Merriwell, perhaps you won’t believe me when I
tell you that not one of those other fellows knows
that I am a member of the order.”

“How can that be possible?”

“It is possible, but the explanation would take too
long now. I’m here to ask you what you mean to do.
I know what you can do. I realize it fully. If you
choose, Will Silver and Carl Dunbar will have to suf-
Deh a: ‘

“Why shouldn’t I choose? You’re no friend of
mine, and last night you proved yourself a cowardly
enemy. Silver is an enemy also. Why should I hold
my hand for either of you?”

“I doh’t suppose there’s any sufficient reason.”

“Law and justice demand your punishment, Dun-
bar. You were the cause,of the destruction of that
You came near having the de-
struction of two lives--two human lives—upon your —
hands and your conscience.’

“I know. it:

Merriwell.

i
I’ve thought it all over. Go ahead,

my medicine. Still, if there’s any way to check this
thing: |
“What way?”
“T can’t offer you money, Merriwell, for

9

“It’s a good thing you don’t! You must realize *
that I’m not the man to sell himself for hush money.
Dunbar, you belong to a disgraceful, disreputable, in-
famous organization known as the Shades.
is likewise a member of that order. You have told
me you didn’t know the names of your fellow mem-_
bers. tis

“No, I have not told you that,”

stantly. S

denied Dunbar in-

“Why, I understood you so.” 3
“T told you they didn’t know me. I am the one —
who knows the name of every member who nas joined
since I became Ruler.” iis

“Oh, then you’re the Ruler, are you?—you'’re the
chief rascal of them all? Doubly you deserve punish-
ment, Carl Dunbar! Doubly you deserve the limit. on

“Perhaps you won't believe me, Merriwell, whet I

tell you that this whole affair—this miserable affair—

~practical joke.

It is true that Silver asked the privilege

 

 

Silver may try to escape, but I’ll take

Silver
 

- no less a crime.

TIP STOP

but he was
He was left
there that he might work the appliances of the place

of getting a sort of revenge on you,

pledged to do you no personal harm.
for the purpose of testing your nerve. He told me
how that fire began. If that had not happened, if one
of your friends had not tracked us there, you’d been
here this morning as safe and sound as you are now,
and Silver confesses that you laughed and scoffed at
his efforts to frighten you. 1 hope you believe me,
for whatever you may think, | want you to know that
on my word of honor I swear no bodily personal harm
was intended for you.”

The man’s words sounded sincere enough.

“Do you expect me to keep silent, Dunbar, and let

_ the insurance company pay the damage you have done
_ by fire?

the insurapce company’ can afford it, but that makes it

That would be a crime.

I can’t countenance it.”

“Wait a minute, Merriwell—wait a minute,”’ urged
_ Dunbar, placing his hand to his forehead. “If there
*\ was a way—a method by which justice could be done,
~ would you keep still?”
: “What method can there be?”
_ “My father is a rich man. I know of others who
belongito the Shades who are the sons of wealthy par-
_ ents. If we should unite and pay the damages, should
“make restitution to the insurance companies, what

then? Fy

itis could you do it? You would have to Heivay

“Perhaps not. The money might be sent to them

‘in bank notes—sent anonymously. It might be done so
that all traces could be hidden. That’s the only way
secret restitution could beemade. I would have to tell
my father the truth.

_my friends of the order and demand that they like-

I would have to call together

wise appeal to their parents. They would do it, Merri-

well, for otherwise it would mean expulsion from Yale

a. and disgrace for all of us, even though we succeeded
in settling the damages with the insurance people.”

“Dunbar, will you do this?”

“Yes, I give you my word, Merriwell.”

“Then on one further condition ’'ll hold my hand. -

| “What condition rs

True you may say —

WEEKLY.

“That the Shades disband, that the order goes out
of existence forever. You must swear to me on your
honor as a man that such a thing shall be done.”

Dunbar considered.

“T’m not sure I can accomplish it,” he said.

“Why not? - You say you know the identity of your
fellow members.”

ee .

“Then you must put it up to them. You must tell
them what I demand. You must even threaten them,
if necessary. You must say that unless they agree to
this proposition of mine that I have given you my
word to push both yourself and Silver as far as I am
able. You must_even state that you don’t propose to
stand the disgrace alone, and that you will expose them
as your fellow conspirators. What do you say, Dun-
bar? Ree: sno use to parley, for those are my ony
terms.’

The Medic considered once more, and then yielded.

“Tt shall be done,”
honor as a gentleman that if‘shall be done. If you will
protect Silver and myself, I'll appeal to my father and
tell him everything. I'll even bring him to you if you
ask it. .
insurance people it shall be raised, and the Shades will

he promised. .“I swear on my

disband to meet no more.”
e
* re * eae *

Dick met Tucker on the steps of Durfee.
said Tommy, making
sure no one was near enough to hear his words. “I

“Just coming to see you,”

met Stella Silver not five minutes ago, and she tells
me her brother is going to leave college.” 3

“I’m on my way to Silver’s room now, Tucker.
Come with me.” 7
Merriwell unhesitatingly

Reaching Silver’s door,
As he did ©

placed his hand on the knob and opened it.
so he heard Will Silver saying:

“T tell you it’s no use, sis, I’ve got to skip. I’m nt x
trouble. i

I’m liable to be pinched any moment.” “ee

said Dick, stepping in
with Tommy close behind him. a

}

>

“How do you do, Silver,

Silver leaped up from the leather grip over which |
he had been bending. As he saw Dick he tt back

a 2 step, | me Kane: gray with fear.

 

If the money can be raised to reimburse the —
 

 

haven't skipped before this.

TP “FOP

Stella Silver was there, and she beheld her brother’s
display.of terror with wonderment and consternation,
“Merriwell,”’. said Silver

huskily, “what do you

‘ }
want?

Why have you come here?”

said Dick.
I hope you will par-
Miss Silver.”

The girl hurried to Tommy.

“To have a little private talk with you,”
“T presume this is your sister?
don our. seeming rudeness,

“Oh; what does it mean?’ she almost sobbed. “I

don’t understand it at all. Will is crazy. This dis-
grace of his leaving college will kill mother,”
“Just give us a chance to talk to him, Miss Silver,

please do,

99

urged Tucker,

“Perhaps you’dbetter walk out with Miss Silver,
Tommy,” said Dick, “I prefer to talk with Silver
alone.”

So Tucker took the girl away, and Dick was left
there with his shivering, pallid foe.

“You were going to cut and run for it, were you,
“That’

TI fancied you possessed.

Silver?” he said. s about as much manhood as
My only surprise is that you
So that was your sister,
was it? Who was the girl who decoyed me last night ?
Tell me who she was.” , |
oR Se friend of mine,” faltered Silver in a low tone.

“KN choice friend, I fancy!’ scoffed Dick. “You
trained her well, I must say.* I’m ashamed of myself
for biting the bait.”

“Qh, she thought it a joke.
ing hut a mere case of hazing.”

ze told her it was noth-

“Tt came near being a fatal joke for you and me.’
Atl know it, Merriwell,
think it over. I know that you helped me get, out of
- that fire trap last night.

I’ve had plenty of time to
It was a manly thing of

_ “Not an hour ago i talked with Carl Dunbar in my
7 rooms, Silver. He has made certain pledges to me on
consideration that, I wotild restrain my hand in bring-
| ing the just and worthy retribution for your cowardly
; actions upon. your head and his.” 1
Silver seemed amazed, ,
| | “And. did you—did you agree to ‘that?"

“On terms which Dunbar will tell you, Silver.”

Will could not seen t to peta it areas.

WEEKLY.

“must be fulfilled

The organization known as the Shades

“Thosé terms,” continued Dick,
to the letter.
It will bring no further shame
Silver,

lf ever again you lift your

is obliterated forever.

upon honest Yale men. As for you, I've stood
quite enough from you.
hand or open your lips to do me harm, you may be

That’s all |

I’m doing nothing on your account. [|

sure that you will receive no leniency.
have to say:
realize that you have people who.would have to suffer
if you suffer. As far as possible you, Dunbar and
your associates must do what is just and honorable to
make restitution for the damages you brought about
last night.
forth,

Hence-* .

I’ve nothing more to say to you,
Silver, you and I are strangers.”
Turning, he left the room.

* * * * * * «=

Dick Merriwell accomplished what the faculty and —
many others had failed to perform, for he put an end —
to the Shades.

Various insurance companies were astonished to re-
ceive certain sums of money which they had been com-
pelled to pay as fire damages upon the destroyed ware- |
house. The money came to them through the mails
without being registered, sealed simply in stout pack- "

ages. One company did make an effort to find out the

souree from which the contribution came, but failed. bin

In time it somehow became whispered about that
Dick Merriwell had destroyed the Shades, but when
questioned concerning it he always smiled and shook
his head, declining to answer.

The Next Number on Will Contain |
DICK MERRIWELL'S PROTEST

OR,

 
 

a i

a

 

TEP: TOP

THE NOD OF DEATH.

“Take that, then, you bullying beast! And that, and that, and
that! Do you hear?”

The foreman of coolies slunk away, muttering horribly under
his breath, and Jim Redmond: made
man’s direction,

“No, sahib, no more,” shrieked the,man with uplifted hands.
“The sahib is my father and my mother. I will not do it again.”

“See you don’t, then,” was thé grim reply. “Now, get out.”
The forem: in did get out, and Jim stooped tenderly over the
motionless figure at his feet. It was the figure of one of his
father’s coolies, a mere boy barely twelve years old, but already
admitted as a worker on the great tea plantation that was said
to be the largest in all Assami, that land of big estates.

Jim knelt beside the still form, and tried hard to assuage the
bleeding from a deep cut in the brown forehead. The lad had
been struck down cruelly by the bullying foreman—struck by a
heavy block of wood that he had snatched up in his wrath, and
the youngster was quite unconscious.

“Tf I leave him out here in this sun the wound’ll fester and
hell die,’ ruminated Jim. “Are there any of the men about, I
wonder?” But there were none, though he hailed several times.
Finally, he swung the light body over his broad young shoulders,
and staggered into the distant house to leave the lad in his
mother’s care.

Then Jim walked out of the house, to be confronted by a fear-
torn man, whose eyes stared with anguished terror. Down fell
the old white head groveling in the dust of the compound, while
the dry lips croaked forth a plaintive prayer.

“What is it, Zirkhar?” asked the lad kindly
me your tale.”

“Protector of the poor, Heaven-born, there is trouble toward.
I have flown on the wings of fear, I have

“Tell me what it is, then, and quickly.”

“A tiger, sahib—the great witch tiger of the hills—it has car-
ried off my grandchild, the light of my eyes, and even now :

“Which way did he go?” Jim was all alert now, for there
was a game afoot that his gallant soul loved.

“Toward his lair, sahib. But, no, the light of the estate will
not run into danger.” He made a frantic grab at Jim’s ankles
as the lad turned swiftly to race back into the house, and Jim
almost fell.

“Peace, Zirkhar, peace,” he’ said angrily. “Let me go. If it
is not too late, I will ” He broke loose, and speedily re-
“emerged with a heavy express rifle aM his hands, and a cartridge
belt slung about his waist.

“Lead on, Zirkhar. We will avenge if we Connot save.’
lad’s eyes were Aight with gladness, for this cea caede to be
royal sport. He had only been three days on the plantation after
an absence of two years in America, and he was afire to kill a
tiger.

He strode on boldly through the hot air of the afternoon, and
the trembling old man followed him.

He stole into the jungle, and speedily found himself in a place
that struck a chill even to his resolute heart. It seemed an abode
of evil, haunted by some unclean spirit of dread. But he shook
himself together, afd still went on, Zirkhar trailing along in the
rear.

“He sleeps hereabouts, sahib,” said the latter presently,
Jim slipped a couple of cartridges into his rifle. Then he stole
up a narrow gully, his eyes peering eagerly on every hand.
Rounding a huge bowlder he stopped in amazement, for he was
almost face to face with the tiger. It was a magnificent brute,
though somewhat mangy, as all man-eaters are, and the lad said

a threatening step in the
as the growling voice reached his ear.

“Get up, and tell

 

 

 

The

and

he had nevef ‘seer So fine, an animal.

“His look kills,” quavered Zirkhar in Jim’s rear, and the native
turned to fly. But Jim’s blood was up. The tiger had not yet
seen him. It had the tiny child between its forepaws; and was
playing with the little bundle of white as a cat plays with a
mouse. Jim could hear the puny cries of the infant, could mark
how the tiny fists reached upward to beat at the w hiskered nose,
Then he crept still nearer, holding himself in feadiness. Sud-
denly the tiger lifted its head and stared at him full. It rose
to its feet, its tail waving angrily, one paw resting lightly on its
prey. Jim felt an uncomfortable shudder pass down his spine
as the basilisk eyes met his own. He felt his strength ebbing
ftom him, and wondered vaguely at the cause. As in a dream
he realized that the tiger was slowly edging its way toward him,

WEEKLY. 27

snarling softly. But he could not stir. There was something in
those fierce green eyes that chained him, held him in thrall.

Then a strident yell from the flying Zirkhar brought him to his
senses. He lifted his rifle, aimed rapidly and fired.

He was struck on the shoulder by a flying body, but he strug-
gled to his feet. There was a crunching in the undergrowth,
and he ran.in the direction of the sound. One glimpse he had of
a tawny shoulder and flank, then the express spoke again, and the
witch tiger had gone on its last hunt. The life ebbed from the
writhing body as the lad broke through the bushes, and as he
slipped in another brace of cartridges the baleful eyes closed for
the’ last'time.

When dinner was over that night he walked out to the ver-
anda. Presently a dusky shape grew into being out of the dark-
ness, and old Zirkhar prostrated himself in the dust.

“Now by the beard of the Prophet, sahib, you have saved my
grandchild’s life. Unharmed, but a little afraid. That is all. He
was all my life to me, the little one. My thanks, sahib, the thanks
of one of the Prophet’s servants. Nay, what are thanks? There
is a way to give payment. Zirkhar has never spoken, but he
knows much.

“Now, listen carefully. Long ago, in the bad days’—Jim knew
ihe was talking of the great Mutiny—' ‘I was a sepoy of the Kum-
pani’s. My comrades mutinied, but I said no, I would remain
true to my salt. Then said they, they would shoot me assuredly,
and I—well, sahib, I knew the Kumpani was dead, and I went
with them, though I slew no white man, as Heaven is my judge.
When the great “Rev enge began, I and my comrades were driven
up there.” He swept his arm around toward the north. “There
were they slain, most of them, but Zirkhar escaped. It is a
long story, sahib, but I will make speed. Up in the hills where
my comrades died, there is a ruined city—the work of the old
gods, men say. It is haunted by the spirits of the past, and no
man goes there and lives. But I, Zirkhar, have been into that
city and have seen wonders. In one of the temples, sahib, there
is an idol. No man may say, Who is the idol, but there are
whispers that he who puts foot in the shrine dies suddenly, in
much pain. I myself have heard that men have been found
lying at the foot of the idol, all broken and dead, and no man
knew whence the death came. But, listen, sahib, come closer.”
Jim bent his head, and Zirkhar glanced nervously about him.

“Is not that some one who listens in the darkness, sahib?”

“No, a shadow—a moving tree.”

“So? Well. In the forehead of the idol there blazes a mighty
stone. It is white as snow and fiery as the morning. It shines
with a hundred colors, and yet is always white. Has the sahib
ever seen such an one?”

“Must be a diamond,” said Jim eagerly. “Tell us all about it.”
He did not hear a rustle in the evergreens at his elbow, neither
did he see anything of a fierce, malice-distorted face peering in-
tently amid the shrubbery. But the beaten overseer was there
listening to every word.

“They have said the stone is worth a king’s ransom to him
who shall gain it,” said Zirkhar softly. “But, no man dares to
go now. There has been death afoot whenever man has strayed
into the temple of Poldhu.”

“Where is it located?” asked Jim earnestly. Then, for half
an hour the two heads bent close together, and the’ old man’s
voice rose whisperingly on the still air. Jim was too engrossed
in the narrative to move. If he had started to one side by the
breadth of a hair, he would have come crashing against the head
of the overseer, but Jim heard nothing of the soft breathing,
knew nothing of the sinister presence. But évery softly spoken
word was overheard by the eavesdropper, and when at length
Jim stretched himself the secret was shared by three.

“It would be an adventure,” said the lad presently. “I’d like
to try it, more for the fun of the thing than anything else. A
regular treasure hunt. If what old Zirkhar says is true, that
diamond must be worth a cool million. As big as a pigeon’s
egg, by Jove!”
“But it means death to venture into the precincts, sahib.” Jim
laughed lightly; he had heard such things before, and ‘did not
put much faith in the old-time belief that whom the gods hated
them also they slew with many cémplainings.

“However, it would hardly be necessary,” thought Jim. “Dad
is rich enough, and he might not care for me - tisk the ad-
venture.”

He went in presently, when the thud of a dictéts hoofs an-
nounced his father’s arrival. \ Mr. Redmond was pale-faced and
perturbed, but he said nothing until he had been seated for a
little while. Then he took Jim into his confidence.

TO BE CONCLUDED. \

 
 
  

, eo

oie

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ce
A
SIP
NEW YORK, May 22, 1909.
TERMS TO TIP TOP WEEKLY MAIL SUBSCRIBERS.
(Postage Free.) j
Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5c. Each.

B MOVEDS ...- .. scene nsces sss cesas 65e. CHAS BOAT 46 bi dat egan end $2.50

SO WORUNA binkcna dees 2 doe tenenes 85c. 2 CODIES ONG POAT. ..220 osseous 4.00

KOS. fd Fan sk sd ces akes Chk od $1.25 1 copy twO Years... ......5..50 4.00

How to Send Money—By post-office or express money order,
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by currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter.

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

STREET & SMITH, Publishers,

Oxmonp G. Smitn,
79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York City.

Georcs C, Smrru, Proprietors.

 

 

TIP TOP ROLL OF HONOR.

Following the suggestion of Mr. Burt L. Standish, that appeared
fn 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,

 

Allan F. Malone, Arizona.
V. D. Reynolds, New York State.

Edward B. Egan, New York City.

Alfred M. Vandyke, Washington,

Edgar Bickle, Canada.

Raiph F. Paulding, Mass.

Carrie Hazelrigg, Minnesota.

Clarence R. Sawyer, Canal Zone, Panama.
Roy Lincoln, Colorado.

John Anson Lee, New York City.

The names of other 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 numbet 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 Tir Tor; and what the magazine has done for him, as well
as what he is doing on his part to increase its circulation, will, upon
request, receive a set of six fine post cards of the’ principal characters in
Tip Top free by mail. Be very sure and address your letters ‘Editor Tip
Top Weekly Post Card Offer.”

 

 

(A letter from Nebraska.)

Not having seen any letters of praise from our “neck of the
woods,” I will let you know as best I can how I have \helped
“Tip Top.” Notice, I do not say “king of weeklies,” as it does
not express my feelings at all. I have read “Tip Top” since
1901; I forget the date but I remember the picture, which was
where Elsie had killed a lion and saved Frank’s life. I have
réad them ever since, and have got a few new readers. It hap-
pened when I was going to high school, our rhetoric teacher told
us not to read cheap juvenile publications. I disagreed at this

WEEKLY.

point and, of course, I got the “horse laugh” from the class, but
I held my point. The next day I brought No. 568, “Dick Merri-
well’s Regret; or, A Friend He Never Knew.” She read it to
the class the next day. It is needless to say the dealers who
handled “Tip Top” had to order a Jarger amount to supply the
demand of his new customers. There is one more thing I wish to
“speak” of, that is, the “Questions and Answers” column, I
believe it does lots of good to the American youth. Next to
Frank, Arlington and Darrell are my favorites, and I like the
new “Sissy” at Frank’s school. RAtrpH JOHNSON.

Bully! That was taking the bull by the horns, Frank. «What
pleases us, next to your grit in the mattér, is the fact that you
have so clever a teacher, who, realizing that she had made the
mistake most people do who descry things they know nothing
whatever about, was courageous enough to acknowledge the
error, and make full amends.

 

(A letter from Georgia.)

T read your ad. in the last “Tip Top” about the Medal Library
books.. IT want to know if the Medal Library” is an eaact copy
of the “Tip Top,” or if it is a condensed “Tip Top”? In other
words, does it contain the same words identically as in the orig-
inal “Tip Top” or not? Yours respectfully,

WILLIAM COHEN.

P S—I see that the first number that you have is 150. Is
that from Nos. 1 to 150?

The Medal books each contain either 3 or 4 “Tip Tops” of the
earlier issues. The changes are slight, only enough to connect
the several stories and make a harmonious whole. Number -15@
of the Medal contains the first 3 “Tip Tops,” while the next 3
are in 167, etc.

 

T have been a constant reader of “Tip Top” for the last ten
years, and this. is my second letter to the Applause column; the
first one I never saw in print.

I think “Tip Top” is the right name for this most famous
magazine. When I came to this little town five years ago no
one knew what the “Tip Top” was; now there is at least
twenty readers here. I think Dick Merriwell is fine, as well
as Frank. I like Brad the best of all, but that is natural, as If
am a Texas boy myself. June is my choice of the fair sex.
Hoping to see this in print, I close by giving three cheers for
the’ king of weeklies, and wishing a lifelong happiness to Burt
L. and S. & S. I remain a true Tip-Topper. “CHICK,”

Stigler, Okla.

Thanks, Chick,
Merriwell spirit.

(A letter from Pennsylvania.)

I have been a reader of “Tip Top” for over three years, I
have hardly read one “Tip Top” before I am besieged by the
other members of the family, each one trying to get the magazine
before the other. To this magazine I owe my stopping of smok-
ing and chewing tobacco. One day while visiting my cousin
he gave me a few “Tip Tops.” JI can hardly wait for it to
come now. With three cheers for Burt L, and Frank and Dick
Merriwell, Brad Buckhart, I remain a Joyal Tip-Topper. Yours
truly, Mat CrocHINSHI.

P. S—Please oblige me by telling how I can furnish @ club
of six members with “Tip Top” stories and: club goods.

Subscribe for the “Tip Top” so that it will come regularly.
Send to Messrs. Spalding Bros., of New York City, for their
catalogue of sporting goods.

 

As I have been an admirer of “Tip Top” a long time and
have never written, I thought I would send my praise for it.
I have just finished reading No. 667, afid I think Willie West
is all right. I noticed a letter in it signed George C. Williams,
and he says all the old readers he thinks like Frank the best,
and 1 sure agree with him; and to speak about my favorite, it
is little Frankie, as his mother calls him. I just love him. I
haven’t a child myself, but I wish I had one like him. I could
not keep back a tear/when I read how near he came to bein
killed when Arthur Morton saved him in “Tip Top’ No, 636.

~~

You are certainly imbued with the true |

*

  
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
   
 
 
  
  
   
  
   
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
    
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
    
      
       

'

 

 

 
eee ee

 

to “Tip
© this will be in print, I remain,

 

 

TiPsTOP

I live at home with my people, and my brother gets “Tip Top”
every week, and what fun he and I and mother do have over it.
Srother likes the Yale crew. He thinks Robert Claxton is the
second best at, Yale to Dick. We want Rob to get June and
Dick to get Claudia, and I know if our friend Williams sees
this he will remember about eight years ago when some of the
readers wanted Frank to drop his bosom friend, as he called

him in the old days. But, my friend Williams, we see that our
faithful Bartley Hodge is there yet, of which we are proud:
Well, I close wishing success to all. Yours truly,

Augusta, Ga, Mrs. M. L. Wise.

Some day we are bound to hear more of young Franke Merri-
when Dick gets out of college and settled down. Then we
the lad those splendid traits of char-
made his father and influenced so many

along the line of high thinking and clean

well,
shall. discover if
acter that have
thousands of boys
living.

inherits
famous,

Not seeing’ any applause from St. Louis of late, will have to
do the good act and send in a few lines, as I want all readers
to thoroughly understand there’s one faithful admirer still mak-
ing St. Louis his home. If every young man and young lady
reader had taken as much interest in “Tip Top” as I have, every
town and city in the United States would have its name if the
“Tip Top.” Issimply can’t find words enough in the English
language to express the admiration I have for the king of
weeklies. The other day I was sitting reading a “Tip Top” and
a friend of mine came in, who said, “There you are with ‘your
head buried in another one of those blood-and-thunder stories,”
so I asked him if he would grant me just one favor—I knew
if he did I had him reading one issue of “Tip Top”? So
in order to catch him right on the start | gave him No. 646 ‘to
read. He finished that and seemed to like it. I never said
word, so pretty soon he asked if I had any more, so I gave the
next, No. 647; after reading that one he said, “I would like to
have a few of these to read to-morrow; each one gets to be
a little bit better than the other,” so I declared that was just
exactly what I[’d been telling him the last five years. At last
I had succeeded in pounding some sense into his head. That's
the way with a great many others, they have to be taught better
before they know where they've made a mistake. I also have a
brother who is a great admirer of “Tip Top”; he often sits
and tells friends how he obtained his first job of work in St.
Louis through some form he learned in the “Tip Top” with
regard to applying for a position.- My “Tip Top” career is about
nine years old, and I° hope I may live to enjoy one Hundred
and nine more years of the same life. I enjoy it more than any-
thing I_ever read or ever expect to read. Not only that, it has
helped me mentally and physically. Will venture to say in the
past five or six years I have induced as many as fifty boys
and girls—and probably more—to read “Tip Top.” If perchance
I ever have a son of my own, the first lesson he’s going to be
taught will be the methods of Frank and Dick Merriwell. Hop-
ing to see this in print sometime in the near future, with the
best of wishes to S. & S., and may B. L. S. continue his good
work for many years, will say so long for this time.

St. Louis, Mo. Harry Morcan.

Which is interesting reading indeed, We, too, could consume

Pages in writing about why we have faith in “Tip Top” to imbue
. ‘\ > . . _ . .

boys with a more manly view of life and the obligations it-im-

     

' poses upon them; but space will not permit.

Being an old Tip-Topper, I think I had better let you know
how I appreciate your magazine. I have read dear old “Tip
Top” for about six or eight years, and am well acquainted with
its characters. Of course I like Frank best and Dick next, and
I hope Frank, Jr., will follow in his father’s footsteps. I have
induced about ten boys to read “Tip Top” and a few girl
friends. I hope I may get many more readers, since the first
day I read this publication I became (as my family says) @tazy
Over physical culture.
Top.” I will stop now

until another time.

A Loyvar

That is one of the many good things combined in the mission

Hoping
Trp-TOrrer. '

; of “Tip. Top”—persuading growing lads to rectify their faults
me at an age when it is easily done;

and consequently building a
» healthy: foundation for the future.

 

I am now a well-dey eloped boy, thanks.

PR sn gee oa

WEEKLY. 29

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS.

EDITED BY PROF. FOURMEN.

 

WOTICE—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 New York.)

Pror. FourMEN: Being. a Joyal reader of the “Tip Top,’ I
take the liberty of asking you a few questions. 1. Do you know
if pimples are anything for a boy to have that he ought to be
ashamed of? 2. Jud ging from my measurements below, do you
think my chest is in good condition? I can endure more than
most boys that are of my age and size. 3.1 think I am too
heavy. Do you think so? If you do, will you tell me how I
can reduce my weight a few pounds? Age, 14 years 8 months;
weight, 124 pounds; height, 5*feet 5 inches; neck, 13 inches;
chest, normal, 35 inches; expanded, 37 inches; biceps, 10%
inches; expanded, 12 inches; waist, 23% inches; thighs, 18%
inches; calves, 13!4 inches. I remain, J. J. KAtas.

Don’t bother your head about the pimples. They will not
annoy you long. You ate in fine shape physically. Work a
little harder, and take long walks if you wish to drop a few
pounds, You should weigh 115 pounds.

Pror, FourMEN:

Kindly tell me in your pages of “Tip Top”
if my statistics

are ali right, for my age. Age, I5 years 2
months; height, 5 feet 1 inch; weight, 95 pounds; chest, normal;
290% inches; expanded, 31 inches; wrist, 534 inches; across
shoulders, 16 inches; biceps, 10 inches; ankle, 11 inches; calves,
14 inches. I think my chest is my weak point.. Truly yours,
Providence, R. I, W. J. R.

Fine, my boy. Weight exactly right, chest only half an inch
shy. You are all right.

Pror, Fourmen: Having seen your answers to questions in
“Tip Top,” I would be pleased to have you answer the follow-
ing: 1 am 20 years old; height, 5 feet 714 inches; weight,
156 pounds. Is this the average? 2. Would you advise me to
take a course in lung culture in Paul Von Boeckmann’s system?
3. What do you think of the Swaboda and Stone systems of
physical culture? Would be very grateful to you if you would
answer my questions in “Tip Top.” Wish’ you success and
long life-in your work. I remain, WAITING.

‘Ketcham, Me. J

1. You are 20 pounds over the average athlete of your height.
‘The physical culture systems are all right. Your chest should
measure, normally,'nearly 37 inches. If it is under that it will
do you good to increase your lung capacity.

1

Pror. FourMEN: Having read “Tip Top”
take the liberty to ask you a few questions. I know I'am far
from perfect, but despite this fact I am a fairly good athlete. I
box, punch a bag, swing Indian clubs, and dumb-bells, row,
swim, ride a horse and a bicycle, throw the “lariat”. or “lasso”
(what we call “rope”); I also shoot, play ball and football, but
skating and swimming are my specialties., My record for the
standing broad jump is 9 feet 4 inches; running broad jump,
17 feet. My measurements are, stripped : Age, 16. years 6
months; weight, 140 pounds; height, 5 feet 9% inches; chest,
34 inches; expanded, 37 inches; waist, 28 dacs biceps, 10%
inches; contracted, 12% inches; forearm, 10 inches; wrist, 7
inches; thigh, 20 inches; calves, 13% inches; ankles, 9 inches.
How are my measurements? I started a course of exercise
yesterday. This is what prompted me to send you my measure-

t

 

for many years, I.

 

 
 

 

 

  

ments, so that I can see if I make any progress during the
course of a year. Living in hope of seeing this in print,
remain, A Loyat Texas Trp-Toprer.
Houston, Tex.
You should weigh 152 pounds and measure almost 37 around
the chest. Still, you seem to be in fine fettle. Keep up your out-

door stunts.

 

Pror. Fourmen: As I have been reading “Tip Top” a long
time, I take the liberty of asking you to criticise my measure-
ments. Age, 13 years 6 months; height, 5 feet 5 inches; weight,
II§ pounds; chest, normal, 33 inches; expanded, 35 inches;
waist, 28 inches; thighs, 1914 inches; calves, 13%4 inches; biceps,
normal, 9 inches; expanded, 10 inches. Is there any way of im-
proving my wind? I am very short-winded and I cannot run
seven blocks without getting out of breath. Thanking you in
advance, I remain, MAXWELL SARON.

New York City.

Measurements are very good, not perfect, but nearly so. Go

in for deep breathing exercises; also run with your mouth
closed. Practice will make you proficient in this.

 

(A letter from Texas.)

Pror. FourMeN: One of us has written to you before, but
he never saw the letter published. There are three of us, and
we would like to have this letter published along with the
criticisms of the measurements of each. Mason’s measurements
are as follows: Height, 5 feet 2% inches; chest, normal, 30%
inches; expanded, 31% inches; waist, 29 inches; upper arm,
normal, 814 inches; expanded, 9% inches; forearm, 9 inches;
calves, 12 inches; thighs, 15 inches; across shoulders, 14 inches;
neck, 13 inches; wrist, 514 inches; age, 16 years 4 months;
weight, 95 pounds. Please tell me my weak points and how to
remedy them. Criticise fully. Wells’ measurements are:
Height, 5 feet, 934 inches; chest, contracted, 3114 inches; ex-
panded, 34 indhes ; waist, 2714 incher; upper arm, normal, 9
inches; expanded, 10 inches; forearm, 9% inches; calves,’ 13
inches; thighs, 17 linches; across shoulders, 16 inches; neck, 14
inches; age, 10 years 9 months? weight, 130 pounds; wrist, 6%

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

inches. Tell me what my weak points are and how to remedy
them. Am I cut out for track work? Rodgers’ measurements
are: Height, 5 feet 844 inches; chest, contracted, 30 inches;
normal, 31% inches; expanded, 36 inches; waist, 27 inches;
upper arm, contracted, 10 inches; expanded, 11% inches; fore-
arm, 18 inches; calves, 13 inches; thighs, 19!4 inches; across
shoulders, 19 inches; neck, 14 inches; age, I5 years 7 months;
weight, 130 pounds, Are my measurements up to the dot for
my build? Is my chest big enough? [ try in all athletics.
What are my weak points? How can I help them? I have
Y. M. C. A. gym. work, while the other boys haven’t that de-
light. We hope to see this in print. Hoping we will be helped
by your advice, we remain, Epwin R. MAson.
Expert B. WELLS.
Rortrn W. Ropcers, Jr.

M. is a few pounds underweight, and chest a trifle short, but
on the .whole seems to be in mighty good shape. W. needs to
gain many pounds in weight and inches about the chest before
he can call himself in trim. Weight should be 151 pounds and
measurement, normal, 38 inches. Until he picks up some of
this latter he cannot hope to excel in any exercise requiring
stamina. R. is 14 pounds short and 6 inches lacking in girth
of chest. The same applies to him as to W.

 

Pror. FourMeN: Having been a reader of the “Tip Top” for
several years, I take the privilege of sending my measurements
to you for criticism. They are: Neck, 13 inches; shoulder
breadth, 19 inches’; chest, normal, 31 inches; expanded, 33 inches;
waist, 26 inches; hips, 35 inches; thighs, 19 inches; calves, 13
inches; biceps, normal, 10 inches; expanded, 11 inches. What
are my weak points? JI am short-winded, although I ride a
bicycle a great deal. I also play baseball and football. My legs
are strong. Yours respectfully, M. M.

Paducah, Ky.

You failed to give your height, which is very essential. Ac-

cording to your chest you should be 5 feet 2 inches and weigh
just 100 pounds. How is it?

 

 

 

 

 

iF

TIP TOP BASEBALL TOURNAMENT FOR 1909

 

past, has induced us to once again enter the field with a tempting offer.

at the end of the season, have the highest average—the members of which play the greatest number of games, score
the most runs and have lost the least number of games, will be declared the winners.
having the higher average will be declared the Tip Top Championship Team of the All-American Baseball
Tournament for 1909, and will receive a beautiful silk pennant bearing a suitable device.
receive a full equipment, consisting of trousers, shirt, stockings, shoes and cap for nine members.
newspaper accounts of your games also to stibstantiate the score.
notice taken of any score not entered on a coupon cut out of Tip Top. Coupons must be properly made out, one for each game.

Ts great interest taken by enthusiastic amateur baseball teams all over the country in our contests for some years

So here it 1s, boys: The two teams which,

Of the two winning teams, the one
Each winning team will

When possible send
DON’T FAIL TO SEND IN YOUR COUPON AT ONCE. Wo

 

 

 

 

 

 

1909—TIP TOP BASEBALL TOURNAMENT COUPON.

NAVE: GE TEAM: isha fon csetads dadcudsdipss TOV cakadckapahue gent PME itas edu davdgeus vans OPPONENT'S. .NAMBS side iceseuaeeees
NAMES OF TEAM. POSITION, NAMES OF TEAM,

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Selhse Mepdiivintls tabla chi godighl wiienidec dials ns «tbh te icons a) CUE oo sn cd wien is cokes intake derecant nnd Seitbna to Ndion basen on atopideal és
sdednn) Camuabae sas <5 dius bad sae ed ab nap ae 0d dein wins ae Tes Mu kake «sabi Vaca’ ROPE CT ie pa lecGalnc. iabenkeatsceee ra ie bbe ee NU enews oo Ge hohe dveaak -

WINNERS os a6 scyatesonensunn 0 dbvedeececerevcsse FINAL SCORE. ....+5<+004<000- seeees MANAGER. ..-.--000see0eseesereseecenesee Oa rreseeeerase 7

 

 

 

 

  

 

 
 
 

 

    

   
    
    

 

 
   

BOYS!

If you were asked to name the writer of the best BASEBALL STORIES
you ever read, wouldn’t you say at once that he is your old favorite, BURT L.
STANDISH, author of the TIP TOP stories? “Burt L.” has written for

THE POPULAR
MAGAZINE

a great serial story off COLLEGE ATHLETICS, of the kind you like best. ~

BILL BRUCE OF HARVARD

is the title of the story. It'begins in the

JUNE NUMBER

of THE POPULAR. — The first. big chunk of the story covers thirty pages of
| the magazine. ,

 

 

 

 

THE ‘POPULAR is the biggest magazine in the world,
It is the only magazine devoted entirely to stories of action and adventure.

It is the only magazine which contains complete in each number a full.
length novel. ) |

Each number contains one or more stories of ‘college athletics.
Each number contains one or more detective stories.
Each number contains two or more Western stories.

It is the only magazine, except TIP TOP, in which thé work of Burt L.
Standish has ever appeared. | |

 

ee
TD

FIFTEEN CENTS ON ALL NEWS STANDS

STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
 

 

 

ALL OF THE BACK NUMBERS OF

 

 

TIP TOP WEEKLY

 

 

THAT CAN NOW BE SUPPLIED

 

 

 

 

180—Frank Merriwell’s Confidence. 409—Frank Merriwell’s Great Peril 542—Frank Merriwell’s New Auto. 616—Dick Merriwell in Mystery
184—Frank Merriwell’s Vim. 415—Dick Merriwell’s Devotion, 543—Frank Merriwell’s Pride, Valley.
186—Frank Merriwell’s Trust, 418—Dick Merriwell’s Force. 544—Frank Merriwell’s Young Win- 617—Frank Merriwell’s Proposi-
187—Frank Merriwell’s “Set.” 423—Dick Merriwell’s Trap. ners. tion.
188—Frank Merriwell’s Sport. 432—-Dick Merriwell’s Set Back. 545—Dick Merriwell’s Lead. 618—Frank Merriwell Perplexed.
189—Frank Merriwell’s Heart. 433—Dick Merriwell’s “Phantom.” 546—Dick Merriwell’s Influence. 619—Frank Merriwell’s Suspicion.
190—Frank Merriwell’s Drive. 434—-Dick Merriwell’s Management 547—Dick Merriwell’s Top Notch. 620—Dick Merriwell’s Gallantry.
191—-Frank Merriwell’s Generosity, 435--Dick Merriwell’s Dilemma. 548—Frank Merriwell’s Kids. 621—Dick Merriwell’s Condition.
192—Frank Merriwell’s Touch. 436—Dick Merriwell’s Persistence. 549—-Frank Merriwell’s Kodakers, 622—-Dick Merriwell’s Stanchness.
194—Frank Merriwell’s Stratagerh. 461—Dick Merriwell in Constanti- 550—-Dick Merriwell, Freshman, 623—Dick Merriwell’s Match.
195—Frank Merriwell’s Limit. nople. — 551—Dick Merriwell’s Progres. 624—Frank Merriwell’s Hard Case.
196—Frank Merriwell Tested. 465—Dick Merriwell in Damascus. 552—Dick Merriwell, Half-back. 625—Frank Merriwell’s Helper.
197—Frank Merriwell's ‘‘Flock.” 467—Dick Merriwell in Egypt. 558—Dick Merriwell’s Resentment, 626—Frank Merriwell’s Doubts,
198—Frank Merriwell’s Tempta- 469—-Frank Merriwell’s Retaliation 554—Dick Merriwell Repaid. 627—Frank Merriwell’s ‘‘Phenom.”
tion, 472—Frank Merriwell's Handicap. 555—Dick Merriwell’s Staying 628—Dick Merriwell’s Stand.
199—Frank Merriwell’s Work. 478—Frank Merriwell’s Method. Power. 629—Dick Merriwell’s Circle.
200—Frank Merriwell’s Skates. 485—-Dick Merriwell in Manila, 556—Dick Merriwell’s ‘‘Push.” 630—Dick Merriwell’s Reach.
201—Frank Merriwell’s Ice Yacht. 486-—Dick Merriwell Marooned, 557—Dick Merriwell’s Running. 631—Dick Merriwell’s Money.
202—Frank Merriwell’s Sleigh. , 487—-Dick Merriwell’s Comrade. 558—Dick Merriwell’s Joke. 632—Dick Merriwell Watched.
204—Frank. Merriwell’s. Opponent. 488—Dick Merriwell, Gap-Stopper.559—-Dick Merriwell’s Seven. 633—Dick Merriwell Doubted.
205—Frank Merriwell Deceived. 489—Dick Merriwell’s Sacrifice Hit5¢0—-Dick Merriwell’s Partner. 634—Dick Merriwell’s Distrust.
206—Frank Merriwell’s Mishap. 490—Dick Merriwell’s Support. 561—Dick Merriwell in the Tank, 635-——Dick Merriwell’s Risk.
207—Frank Merriwell’s Influence. 491—Dick Merriwell’s Stroke 562—Frank Merriwell’s Captive. 336—Frank Merriwell’s Favorite.
208—Frank Merriwell’s! Theory. 492—Dick Merriwell Shadowed. 563—Frank Merriwell’s Trailing., 637-——-Frank Merriwell’s Young Clip-
209—Frank Merriwell’s Five. 493—Dick Merriwell’s ‘Drive. 564—Frank Merriwell’s Talisman. pers.
212—-Frank Merriwell's Football, 494—-Dick Merriwell’s Return. | 565—Frank Merriwell’s Horse. 638—Frank Merriwell’s Steadying
213—Frank Merriwell’s Handicap. 495—Dick Merriwell’s Restoration. 5}g4g—Frank Merriwell’s Intrusion. Hand.
214—Frank Merriwell’s Stroke. 496—Dick .Merriwell’s Value, 567—Frank Merriwell’s Bluff. 639—Frank  Merriwell’s Record
215—Frank Meriwell’s Favor. 497—Dick Merriwell’s “Dukes.” 568—Dick Meriwell’s Regret. Breakers.
218—Frank Merriwell’s “Liner.” 498—Dick Merriwell’s Drop Kick. 569—Dick Merriwell’s Silent Work. 640—Dick Merriwell’s Shoulder.
225—Frank Merriwell’s Throw. 499——Dick Merriwell’s Defeat. 570—Dick Merriwell’s Arm. 641—-Dick Merriwell’s Desperate
226—Frank Merriwell’s Wonders. 500—Dick Merriwell’s Chance, 571—Dick Merriwell’s Skill. Work. *
227—Frank Merriwell’s Vault, 501—Dick Merriwell’s Stride. 572—Dick Merriwell’s Magnetism. 642—Dick Merriwell’s Example.
228—Frank Merriwell’s Speed. 502—Dick Merriwell’s Wing-Suit. 573—Dick Merriwell's System. 643—Dick Merriwell At Gale’s
229—Frank Merriwell’s Rough Ri- 503—Dick Merriwell’s Skates. 574—-Dick Merriwell’s Salvation. Ferry.
ders, 504—Dick Merriwell’s Four Fists. 575—Dick Merriwell’s Twirling. 644—-Dick Merriwell’s Anspitation,
230—Frank Merriwell’s Battery. §05—Dick Merriwell’s Dashing 576—Dick Merriwell’s Party. 645—Dick Merriwell’s Shooting.
231—Frank Merriwell’s Archer. Game, : 577—Dick Merriwell’s Backers. 646—Dick Merriwell in the Wilds.
232—Frank Merriwell’s Double 506—Frank Merriwell’s Tigers. 578—Dick Merriwell’s Coach. 647—Dick Merriwell’s Red Comrade
Play. -507—Frank Merriwell’s Treasure 579—Dick Merriwell’s Bingle. 648—Frank Merriwell’s Ranch.
2338—Frank Merriwell’s Find. Guard, — ; 580—Dick Merriwell’s Hurdling. 649—-Frank Merriwell im the Sad-
234—-Frank Merriwell’s Hustlers. 508—Frank Merriwell’s Flying Fear 581—Dick Merriwell’s Best Work. dle.
235—Frank Merriwell’s Captivity. 509—Dick Merriwell in Maine. 582—Dick Merriwell’s Respite. 650—Frank Merriwell’s Brand.
236—Frank Merriwell’s New Pro- 510—Dick Merriwell’s Polo Team. 583—Dick Merriwell’s Disadvan- 651—Frank Merriwell’s Red Guide.
tege. 511—Dick Merriwell in the Ring. tage, 652—Dick Merriwell’s Rival.
237—Frank Merriwell’s Power. 512—Frank Merriwell’s New Idea. 584-pick Merriwell Beset. 653—-Dick Merriwell’s Strength,
238—Frank Merriwell'’s Policy, | 518—Frank Merriwell’s Trouble. 585—Dick Merriwell’s Great’ Rival. 654—Dick Merriwell’s Secret Work. |
939—-Frank Merriwell’s Freshmen, 514—Frank Merriwell’s Pupils. 586—Dick Merriwell’s Distrust. | 655—Dick Merriwell’s Way.
240—Frank Merriwell’s Generalship 515—Dick Merriwell's Satisfaction. 537_pick Merriwell, Lion-Tamer. 656—Frank Merriwell’s Red Visitor .
241—Frank Merriwell's Kick, 516—Dick Merriwell’s Discernment. 538_-nick Merriwell’s Camp-site. 657—Frank Merriwell’s Rope. f
242—Wrank Merriwell’s High Jump 517—Dick —_ Merriwell’s Friendly 589—-Dick Merriwell’s. Debt. 658—Frank Merriwell’s Lesson.
243—-Frank Merriwell’s ‘Brassie’’ Hand. 590—Dick Merriwell’s Camp-Mates, 659—Frank Merriwell’s Protection.
Shot. 518—Frank Merriwell’s New Boy. 591—Dick Merriwell’s Draw. 660—Dick Merriwell’s Reputation.
©44—-Frank Merriwell’s Shrewdness 519—-Frank Merriwell’s Mode. 592—-Dick Merriwell’s Disapproval. 661—Dick Merriwell’s Motto.
245—Frank Merriwell’s Entertain 520—Frank Merriwell’s Aids. 593—Dick Merriwell’s Mastery. 662—Dick Merriweli’s Restraint.
ments. 521—Dick Merriwell’s Visit. 594—-Dick Merriwell’s Warm Work 663—Dick Merriwell’s Ginger.
246—Frank Merriwell’s Mastery. °22—Dick Merriwell’s Retaliation. 595—Dick Merriwell’s “Double 664—Dick Merriwell’s Driving.
247—Frank Merriwell’s Dilemma. 5238-—Dick Merriwell’s Rival. Squeeze.” 665—Dick Merriwell’s Good Cheer.
248-—Frank. Merriwell’s Set-Back. 524—Frank Merriwell’s Young Crew 596—Dick Merriwell’s Vanishing. 666—Frank Merriwell’s Theory.
249—Frank Merriwell’s Search, 525—Frank Merriwell’s Fast Nine. 597_nick Merriwell Adrift. 667—Frank Merriwell’s Diplomacy.
950—Frank Merriwell’s Ring. 526—Frank Merriwell’s ~ Athletic 593__pick » Merriwell’s Influence. 668—Frank Merriwell’s Encourage-
251—Frank Merriwell’s Party. Field. 599—Frank Merriwell’s Worst Boy. ment. .
°52—Frank ‘Merriwell’s Life Strug- 527—Dick Merriwell’s Reprisal. 600—Frank Merriwell’s Annoyance. 669—Frank Merriwell’s . Great
gle. 528—Dick Merriwell Dared. 601—F rank Merriwell’s Restraint. Work.
253—Frank Merriwell’s Skill. 529—Dick Merriwell’s Dismay. 602—Dick Merriwell Held Back. 670—Dick Merriwell’s Mind,
254—-Frank Merriwell’s Club. 530—Frank Merriwell’s Son. 608—Dick Merriwell in the Line. 671—Dick Merriwell’s “Dip.”
255—Frank Meriwell’s Scheme. 531—Frank Merriwell’s Old Flock. 604—Dick Merriwell’s Drop Kick. 672—-Dick Merriwell’s. Rally.
256—Frank Merriwell’s Mysterious 532—Frank Merriwell’s House Party 605—Frank Merriwell’s Air Voyage 673—Dick Merriwell’s Flier.
Move. ii 538—Dick | Merriwell’s Summer 606—Frank Merriwell’s Auto Chase, 674—Frank Merriwell’s Bullets.
257—Frank Merriwell’s Hand. Team. 607—Frank Merriwell’s Captive. 675—Frank. Merriwell Cut Off.

584—Dick Merriwell’s Demand. 608—Dick Merriwell’s Value.
535—-Dick Merriwell’s Slabmate. 609—Dick Merriwell. Doped.

536—Frank Merriwell’s Summer 610—Dick Merriwell’s Belief.

“258—Frank Merriwell’s Suspicion.
259—-Frank Merriwell’s Trust.
260—Frank Merriwell’s Sweetheart.

261—Frank Merriwell’s Bosom Camp. 611—Frank Merriwell in the Mar-
‘Friend. 587—Frank Merriwell’s Proposal. ket.

262—H'rank Merriwell Deceived. 588—Prank  Merriwell’s Pspooks 612—Frank Merriwell’s Fight for

263—Frank Merriwell in Form. j hunters. Fortune.

618—Frank Merriwell on Top.
614—Dick Merriwell’s Trip West:
615—Dick Merriwell’s Predicament.

264—Frank Merriwell’s Coach.
808—Dick Merriwell’s Discovery.
408-—Frank Merriwell’s Fire.

589—Dick Merriwell’s Cheek.
540—Dick Merriwell’s Sacrifice.
541—Dick Merriwell’s Heart.

676—Frank Merriwell’s Ranch Boss
677—Dick Merriwell’s Equal.
678—Dick Merriwell’s. Development,
679—Dick Merriwell’s Eye,
680—Frank Merriwell’s Zest.
681—Frank Merriwell’s Patience.
682——Frank Merriwell’s Pupil.
683—F rank Merriwell’s Fighters.
684—Dick Merriwell at the ‘‘Meet.”
685—Dick Merriwell’s Protest.

 

 

F / PRICE, FIVE CENTS PER COPY

If you want any back numbers of our weeklies and cannot procure them from your newsdealer, they can be

obtained direct from this office.

Postage stamps taken the same as money.

STREET @ SMITH, Publishers, 79 Seventh Ave., New York City

   

 

ahr erat

 

—

a lt

 

FF

—.
 
Ba Yan a Sa Li ii ii i i Yi is isi is iis is i i i i ie
NUMBERS 1 TO 396

IP TOP

150—Frank
167—F rank
178—Frank
184—Frank
189—F rank
193—F rank
197—Frank
201—F rank
205—Frank
209—F rank
213—Frank
217—F rank
225—Frank
229—F rank
233—Frank
237—Frank
240—Frank
244—Frank
247—Frank
251—Frank
254—F rank
258—Frank
262—Frank
267—F rank
271—F rank
276—Frank
280—F rank
284—F rank
288—F rank
292—F rank
296—F rank
306:—Frank
304—Frank
308— Frank
312—Frank
316—Frank
320—F rank
324—Frank
328—Frank
332—F rank
336—Frank
340—Frank
344—Frank
348—Frank
352—Frank
356—Frank
359—Frank
362—Frank
365—Frank
368—Frank
371—Frank
374—Frank
377—Frank
380—F rank
383—Frank
386—F rank
389—F rank

WEEKLY

ARE CONTAINED IN THE MEDAL LIBRARY

We kmow that there are thousands of boys who are very thuch 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.

Merriwell’s School-days,
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.
Merr'well’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

 

 

392—Frank
395—Frank
398—Frank
401—Frank
404—Frank
407—-Frank
410—Frank
413—Frank
416—Frank

Merriwell’s Faith.
Merriwell’s. Victories.
Merriwell’s Iron Nerve.
Merriwell in Kentucky.
Merriwell’s Power.
Merriwell’s Shrewdness.
Merriwell’s Set-back.
Merriwell’s Search.
Merriwell’s Club.

419—Frank Merriwell’s Trust.

422—Frank
425—Frank

Merriwell’s False Friend.
Merriwell’s Strong Arm.

 

 

428—Frank Merriwell as Coach.
431—Frank Merriwell’s Brother.
434—Frank Merriwell’s Marvel.
437—Frank Merriwell’s Support.
440—Dick Merriwell at Fardale.
443—Dick Merriwell’s Glory.
446—Dick Merriwell’s Promise.
449—Dick Merriwell’s Rescue.
452—Dick Merriwell’s Narrow Escape.
455—Dick Merriwell’s Racket.
458—Dick Merriwell’s Revenge.
461—Dick Merriwell’s Ruse.
464—Dick Merriwell’s Delivery.
467—Dick Merriwell’s Wonders.
470—Frank Merriwell’s Honor.
473—Dick Merriwell’s Diamond.
476—Frank Merriwell’s Winners.
479—Dick Merriwell’s Dash.
482—Dick Merriwell’s Ability.
485—Dick Merriwell’s Trap.
488—Dick Merriwell’s Defense.
491—Dick Merriwell’s Model.
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
500—Frank Merriwell’s Rescue.
Published About March 30th
509—Frank Merriwell’s Encounter.
Published About April 20th’
512—Dick Merriwell’s Marked Money.
Published About May 11th
edu Pent 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

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