t

 

 

 

 

Making better than a mile a minute,
the Ajax was holding her head in the
last lap when Oldring suddenly slid

STREET & snitH,

5 pee : . me . PUBLISHERS,
from the driving seat. The car veered NEW YORK.

a hair and then Frank seized the steer-
ing wheel.

7

 

 

 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

} Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second-class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 19-89 Seventh Ave., N.Y’.
: | Copyright, 1910, dy STREET & SMITH. —

No. 7308

NEW YORK, April 30, 1910.

Price Five ee

oe

OR,

The Man Who Won the Big Race.

By BURT L. STANDISH.

e
CHAPTER. T.
A DISAPPOINTMENT FOR FRANK.

‘Frank Merriwell paced the platform of the railway
‘station at Denver. He was waiting the arrival ofa
Union Pacific train from the east, and that train was
an hour and ten minutes behind time.

_ Finally the train rolled into the station and stopped.
Merry watched the stream of passengers pouring
Nev-

out through the gate. Nota face did he miss.

“ertheless, as that stream of humanity began to thin |

“ont disappointment crept into his eyes. f
“Can it be soeide Whittaker didn’t come?’ he
muttered aloud, “or have I missed him?”
“Excuse me, sir,” said a tall, thin man in gray, who
had been standing for some moments regarding Frank
intently, ‘ ‘did I understand you to mention the name
yf Whittaker? Are you Frank Merriwell?”
“Yes, sir, I'm Frank Merriwell.”
“Then were lyou looking for Mr. Penrose Whit-
aker ?”. ,
yy came ‘ere to meet him.
d, as he wired me he would, or else in some man-

Either he has not ar-

ner I overlooked him among the people who passed

out through the gate.” . ,
“Mr. Whittaker did not come to Denver.”
“Eh? Didn’t come? Why, he promised
“He sent me instead.” Ni a
a Ge Eg
Ven sie
“Who are you?”
“Y’m Walter Cross, Mr.

retary and confidential ran.

Whittaker’s private sec- -
He sent me to attend to
the business with you.”

Frank looked keenly disappointed.

“You can’t attend to that business, Mr. Cross,” he
His
signature is required upon certain papers I have in

said. ‘“‘Penrose Whittaker alone can do that.

my pocket. I thought I made it plain enough in
my message that the business must be transacted with
Where is he?” 3

“He has gone to California by the way of Col-

him per ‘sonally.

2
orado Springs. You know it would be out of his_
way for him to come here to Denver, and he coulda”
spare the time.”’

 
 

oD TIP

TOP

“Tt wouldn’t have delayed him long.’ .

“Tt would have made several hours difference, Mr,
Merriwell. Mr. Whittaker felt that it was absolutely
necessary for him to reach Belvidere as soon as pps-
sible.”

9

“But only a few hours,” said Merry—‘he could

have spared a few hours. I must cut him off with
a message. I must stop him.”
“You can’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“He won’t stop... He considers the business in Cal-

ifornia of supreme importance.’

“Of course I do not wish to pry into Mr. Whitta-

ker’s private affairs; but that business is-——”’

“He’s going to the Vanstrom Cup Race, to be held
on the Belvidere course.”
“And Pen-

rose Whittaker, a hard-headed: business man,

“An automobile race!’ breathed Frank.

consid-

 

ers that supremely important !’’

strating hand. |

“Not being fully informed regarding his interest in
that race, Mr. Merriwell,” he said,
petent to pass judgment. : Mr. Whittaker has recently
Car Company. He has a one-hundred-and-twenty
horsepower A jax entered for the Vanstrom cup.”
Pact Sas

sport, than “business,”’

said Merry; “that seems more like pleasure,

Walter Cross smiled. a cold, mirthless sort of a
smile. . BAe a 7

i “Tn this case. it’s Iisiness: of importance for Mr.
Whittaker,” he said.

  

“You know there has been a
the car in the third class for the past two seasons.
‘ised and touted: as a speed car.

ee to believe that. the Sona in the construction
Others do not believe

  
     
    

ove sg venture. B ag he beliey eS SO ‘thoroighy

  

Whittaker’s private secretary lifted a thin, remon-

“you are not com-

4 ‘purchased a controlling interest in the Ajax Motor

radical fault in the build of the Ajax, which has kept

‘The Ajax. fever has won a race, and still it is adver-
Mr. Whittaker has

“Unless the c Ajax makes a first- class Benet iD.

WEEKLY.

automobile world that he has tnade a heavy wager on
the car. He has wagered a big sum that the Ajax
will finish ahead of the Flashwell,” |
‘Well, he certainly must have confidence,” breathed
Frank, astonished, “for the Flashwell holds the speed
record in America. It has made the fastest mile, and. |
has won two big distance races in the last year. The a
cat is recorded to-day as the acme in Seal: de-
velopment.”
“and because of —

“Just so,” nodded Walter Cross,

this belief Mr. Whittaker was able to obtain odc Is in oe

his wager. He has secured the finest driver in this

country, Matthew Oldring, and Oldring likewise has
faith in the Ajax. As you know, Mr. Whittaker is

a man of big affairs: He intended going on to Cali-

     
    
         
     
     
   
 
          
         
 

fornia several days ago, but his business would not — | |
perinit it. He will now arrive barely a day before |
the race is pulled off. I’m sure, sir, he did not kiow | es]
the business you wished to transact with him de- i
tanded his personal attention, Indeed, I can assure
you that I have authority to sign any papers for him.”

But Merriwell shook his head. , : 4

“In this case nothing but the ee W ritten ¢ au
tograph of Penrose Whittaker will do. ;
“Well, I don’t see how you're going to get it.”
(“I do.”
“How?”

“T ‘shall immediately, take a cab to the Brown Pal.

  

  

ace, where I 4m stopping, ‘pack my belongings, and. A

catch the next fast train for California,” said Merry.

 
      
   

CHAPTER IL. on

oe

 

“PENROSE WH IT TAKER,

Rd

   
 
 
  

  
  
     

bel dey: who carried Merry’s two Gasdlies baat aa
Walter Cross, Nine had made the i epic) ahi n

  
 

a eniniute behind ‘Frank,

“Ts Mr. Petirase Whittaker + stopping here?” i
   

   

straight over Merry’s head. “I think there’s a gen-

tleman by that name stopping here. Yes, he has a

4

suite on the second floor.”
“Give me an outside room with bath,” requested
| Frank, dashing his name down upon the page of the
register.

“Ho, ho, ho!” laughed a heavy voice near at hand.
“Don't you believe yourself, Thorne. I know what I
know, and I’m not worrying about the Ajax.”

Frank turned instantly. Two men in automobile
paraphernalia were passing. The one who had spoken
was a huge, stout, rotund individual, and his com-

‘panion was a small, nervous-appearing, alert person.
_ § ~~ Walter Cross stepped forward quickly and spoke to

ie th

the big man.

aa » “Why, you here, Cross?” said the latter, in ap-

parent surprise. Well you certainly got through

with that business in Denver in a hurry. I didn’t ex-

 

pect you before to-morrow.”

  

By this time Merriwell was close at hand.
“Mr. Whittaker,”
“ble to attend to your business in Denver.”
_ “Eh? Hey? What’s that?
Cross? Why was it impossible? I sent, you there to
attend to it, didn’t 1?”
“You did, sir, but Mr. Merriwell decitiied: to accept

    

said Cross, “I found it impossi-

   
 

What do you mean,

 
  
  
  

"me as your substitute.”
“He did?, What? Didn't you tell him
“I told him, sir, that I was yout private secretary

   

 

  
 

 

and confidential agent. That made no difference with

  

ett He insisted that it was absolutely necessar y to
have your per sonal signature! napor certain papers.”
“Well, he'll have ‘to get my er when he can,
then. He will have to wait for it.”
Mr. Merriwell,” said Cross, “is here.”
_ “Hey? Here? Whete?”
es “Right here, Mr. Whittaker,” smiled Frank. “Per-

  

| : ithe Lig man looked at Frank.
“Oh, ress oh, yes.” ane said; “J remember yout. A

fda Be}

WEEKLY, 3

here to the Land of Sunshine, eh? Well, you must
consider your business of more than minor importance.
Let me see, it was something about that El Mardo
property, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.

I have the papers with me. I must get

your signature for the Pablo-Mystery Syndicate. If

%9

you can spare a few minutes

 

“Can't spare a minute now, Merriwell, my boy.

Thorne has his car waiting outside. We're going out
to the Belvidere course. If you were prepared to
come along, ‘we might talk this matter over on the
way out there and back.”

If you'll

give me a few moments to open one of my bags, I'll

“T’m prepared, sir. I dined on the train.

get out a cap and duster.”
“Oh, well;

troduce Mr. Thorne.

oh, well; just as you say. Let me in-
Mr. Thorne, this is Mr. Merri-
well.”

“Glad to know you,

rasping,

” piped Thorne, in a shrill,

unpleasant voice, as he nervously shook

Frank’s hand. “Come right along, sir. You're quite
welcome.”

“Thank you,” said Merry, as he turned his atten-
tion to one of his bags and hastily unstrapped it.

, raking out a cap, a duster, and some goggles, he
Gist and restrapped the bag.

“Send my lugg

to the clerk.

In a moment he had the duster and cap on and was
Whittaker

gave his secretary some hasty instructions, and the.

gage up to my room, please, ae ‘said

ready to follow Whittaker and Thorne.

latter was left staring coldly after the three men as
they passed out of the hotel.

A magnificent touring car, with the driver on the
seat, stood outside the door.

“There’s plenty of room for the three of us in the
tonneau,”

don’t take up. much room myself. Whittaker and I

together only occupy about as much room as two men

should, in spite of his size. He, he, he!”

That laugh was fully as unpleasant as the man’s |

voice, and already Frank had begun to experience a
feeling of aversion for Hopkins Thorne. s

piped Thorne, snapping the door open. “I

As they settled themselves on the wide, comfortable ie

  

+
a

 

     
     
     
        
      
     
       
    
       
 
    
a TIP TOP

rear seat of the automobile the driver pressed a. but-
ton and started the engine. Away they rolled down
the beautiful broad main street of Belvidere. Palms
and flowers and sunshine gave Merry a feeling of con-
tentment. He had expected by this time to be with

his wife on the T-Bar in Wyoming, but once more

business affairs had led him far from the ranch.
The suburbs of Belvidere were beautiful, indeed.

The modern houses and charming bungalows, with

their flower-bedec ked lawns, made the town seem like

diversion, and it’s likewise my business in a certain
oy Way.
good athletes; but I do/ not go into athletic sports

wagers.

7

tion as a baseball and football player.

sense of the word that profession indicates.

an ideal place in Which to reside. ‘

“We're going out to the course to watch Oldring

send the Ajax round for a trial,” explained Whit-

taker. ‘“‘He knows we’re going to be there where we
can watch him’ at a certain time, and he will show
us what the car has in it. Merriwell, my boy, if you
want to win some money, take a tip from me and
wager that the Ajax will finish with the first three
cars to-morrow.” ;

“Thank you, Mr. Whittaker,” laughed Merry; “but
I’m not a betting man.’

“Eh? You're not a betting man? Why, I thought
you were something of a sport. You have a reputa-
: They say

you're the greatest all-round athlete in the country.”

“But I’ve never made athletics a profession in, the
It’s my

I train boys to become healthy young men and
fer the money I can make out of them through
keeping myself untainted by professionalism.”

“Oh, yes—yes, I understand.

rot about this professionalism in “athletics, You've

a brother in, Yale, haven’t you?’

POY CyB y

ak understand he’s a gtéat avhfete, too. I hear he

_ stands pretty high among college athletes.”

A look of pride gleamed in Frank’s eyes. hy
a “My brother is captain - we Yale; nine this year,” :

J think, sit, I have duecanded up to date in -
“You're: wavering ‘ong the fence.
There’s a lot of

tle man,

WEEKLY,

“Oh think it’s

[ own two or three cars myself.

indeed I am. I a gTeat spectacle.
One of them 1s a.
Flashwell.”

“And I.
presume you think the Flashwell the greatest car on
Un-
less the old Ajax has a rotten streak of luck to-mor-
We're

going out for the Vanstrom cup, young man, and [ve

“Haw!” exploded *Penrose Whittaker.
wheels? Well, now Jet me tell you something:

row, she will finish ahead of the Flashwell.

got confidence that we'll take it—so much confidence
that I’ve made some fat little wagers.” |
“If you defeat the Flashwell with Dan Desbrow
driving, you will astonish the country,” said Merry.
“Tf we don’t defeat the Flashwell,” rumbled Whit-
taker, “I'll eat my hat.”
|

CHAPTER TIL 4
THRE TIME TEST. \, |

On the way out to the course the business which
had brought Frank Merriwell from Denver to Cali-
When Whittaker,
did revert to it, Merry stated he would be quite con-—

fornia was scarcely mentioned.

tented to talk the matter over after me returned to |

the hotel. | pea
“T’m going to stay here until this race is pulled off, :

anyhow,” he said. “I want to see it.”
“Ho, laughed W hittaker.

into your blood a bit, is it?”

ho!” “Sort of ae

“He, he!’ piped Thorne.

“He'll be forgetting his

scruples and hetting yet.” 3
“How about you, Hopkins?” grinned the big man.
You don’t know
how to bet.” ; a |
““That’s Da that’s right.
nrose, old boy, but I’ve seen what th

T know you're pre
confident, I

| Flashwell can do.”’

“The: Flashwell be hanged!’ hes ted Whitt

i

“ey ou'll see what the Ajax can do t -morrow.”

aie el t done much up to date,” reminded thi
“Tt has been a lémom,”. a
“Tt thas,” agreed Whittaker ; “but the sour F spe

been: sweetened)”

: “Now, tell me just what t you t mean 1 by that,”

 
astonishment.
4’ usual, but he couldn’t believe he had made

| to take advantage of this imformation,

TIP TOP

“What have you done tothe car to take

- Thorne.

it out of the losing class and make it such a wonder °

that you’re willing to bet a small fortune on it?”
“That’s a secret, my boy; I’m not at liberty to

divulge it. You know Oldring’s reputation as a

driver. You know he never could be induced to touch

the Ajax. This year I got him. He was at liberty,

but still he wouldn’t do any business with me until he

had a chance to try the Ajax out himself and see just
We took

and he

what she was. We gave him the chance.
course in private,
that {

He knew he was doing something un-

him onto the Long [sland
did a few

stunts with the car filled him, with
the time

recorded until he got it from the five different men

who held stop watches on it.

“I was there, Thorne. I’m not blowing this around

for the benefit of the general public. You're my per-
‘sonal friend, I like Merriwell. If either of you wish

which you're

oa getting straight from the inside, you're at liberty to

_ do so, and you'll win big money if you bet, just as
sure as the old Ajax doesn’t go up against some un-
: foreseen streak of rotten luck. Of course, there’s a
: chance of tire trouble, but we’ve taken all precautions
‘ about that.

e the market.

We're equipped with the best tires in
We're here to win the Vanstrom cup.”

“y our confidence is

i refreshing,” grinned Thorne.
: Your talk listens good.

All the same, I’ll have to
see for myself to-day.” —

It did not take them long to reach the course, one
sweep of which almost touched the town of Belvi-
dere.
tents were going up.

a along for some four or five miles, finally turning off |

‘ climb a hill. Here they were quite by themselves,

ing leit the tents. and’ booths far behind.

cher peaks rose against ‘ae bright: bi

Away there,”

‘curve upon the Long Island course.

| In this vicinity hundreds of booths and little
Entering the course, they sped.

California :
| GD One Nik OE)
see ana pointing to the dis-

WEEKLY.

tance, “is Softsweep Curve. You can see a bit of the
track with these glasses.”

He had produced some fine field glasses, which he
passed to Whittaker.
“the course is plain

“Nearer still,” he continued,

enough as it winds toward us through Vesper Valley.
From those trees four miles away to a turn a mile
beyond us we can see almost every bit of the road.”

9

a c ;
“It is a magnificent view,” murmured Merry, gaz-
ng out over the valley and permitting his eyes to
rest lovingly on the distant mountains.

“Oh, “We

didn’t come out here to admire California scenery,

hang the view!’ rumbled Whittaker.
Merriwell; we came to watch Oldring and time him
around this track.”’

“What’s the distance around the’ track?"

“Just about as near twenty-five miles as possible,”
“It’s said to be a bit over twenty-
This could be made the

answered Thorne.
four and nine-tenths miles.
finest distance course for! automobile racing in the
world. There’s no really bad curves.
Curve is so gradual that it can be taken with safety.

at pretty near top speed. The Notch Hill turn is not oe
so safe, yet it’s nowhere near as bad as the worst

That’s Notch
Hill over there across the valley.”

“Wonder where Oldring is?”
“We arrived here precisely on a i He knows we’ re
He ought to be showing. up with the car.’

here. oa
Mr. Whittaker ?”* athadk

“Where is the car kept,
Frank.

Down at Prosper, that little settlement, you can.
barely see at the lower end of the valley. All the:

cars except: the Bird are garaged there.”

ot PEssnie you ve taken proper precautions to pro-
tect your car from being tampered with?” |
— “You bet. She’s guarded night and dey by trusty
mer. But I’ll tell you the honest truth, my boy, 1
don’t believe our opponents regard it as worth while

to try any tricks on the Ajax. They don’t think the

Ajax will cut much of a figure in the race, anyhow.”
if hey may mae eer and d get a different opin

“They n may, but i to-night 1 r li have a wees

 

~The Softsweep :

muttered Whittaker. ian

a8
    

   

6 TIP TOP

   
   
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
   
  
 

on duty. No one who has ro right there will be per-
mitted to approach the Ajax.”

“Who is Oldring’s mechanician ?’

“He has two. Luke Deeping will probably go into

the race with him. McManners, Desbeie® assistant,

will be on hand ready for any emergency.”
‘“McManners? McManners?’’ murmured Merry.

“That name sounds familiar.”
“Ha!” cried Thorne shrilly, ‘There she comes—

there she comes round Softsweep Curve!’

A bit of dust rose away down there in the distance.
Whittaker eagerly trained the field glasses and
chuckled deep in his throat. /
he said.

“Yes, there she comes,” “Get your watches

out, boys. We'll take her as she passes the big tree
down below us on the opposite side of the course.
Oldring will have his speed up when he am spinning
past that tree.”

Merriwell was deeply, intensely interested now’

«

‘The distant cloud of dust settled and was gone as
. the trees hid the coming car. Ina surprisingly brief
space of time the racer came flashing into view again
and approastied with a roar of its open exhaust, the

Beir sound growing louder and louder with each second.

“He’s hitting it up some,” piped Thorne excitedly.

 

“Oldring certainly is a great driver. If your old car

  

“can’t show something good with that man at the
wheel, you’re stung, Penrose—you’re stung.”

said Whittaker, who
had lowered his glasses and was now holding his

be admit that you’re right,”

watch ready to catch the time as the racer passed the

 

point selected. Wa:

“By smoke!” cried Thorne. “I wkldn’t go sean
this course once at that speed for all the aey
there i is in California.” . ‘3

“There are others,” chuckled Whittaker.
Mr, Merriwell might like it, but it certainly takes a
man | ‘of nerve to cover ground in an automobild at
Would you enjoy

“Perhaps

  

 
 

better than sixty miles an hour.
“it, Merriwell?”

“Well,” laughed Frank,
the question to me pointblank, I’m going to answer
honestly. I’ve had the pleasure of riding i in an auto-

mobile at better than sixty miles an hour more than

      

“as long as you have put

  
 

WEEKLY. 6

  

once, and there’s’ something about it that fills a man
with a certain keen delight. I know aeroplane flying
must be even greater and more fascinating as a sport,
but there's something wonderfully delightful in auto-
mobile racing.”

“Did you ever drive a car at sixty miles an hour?”
asked Thorne incredulously:

“I have,” answered Merry.

“Well, those who want to do it may, but not for
Hopkins Thorne—nay, nay. Here she comes. Ready,
everybody.”

Roaring like a rapid-fire gun, the racer literally
skimmed’ down the track, flinging up a cloud of dust
behind. As the car passed the three stop watches

snapped.

“Now, go it, Oldring—go it! rumbled W hitealert
“You've got to make it in better than twenty-five min, —
utes to satisfy me.” j

In a moment the car had vanished in the distance,
and gradually the roar died down. At intervals they
heard it faintly far away. Once it came plain and»
distinct from some point on the opposite wee of the

course.

“He’s not doing better than a mile a minute, Pen-
rose,” said Thorne.
That’s about

seven miles from the point where we got. the time,

haust from near Little River Bridge.

: and it has been a good seven Ne

“Oh, the Ajax was beyond Little River Bre

‘then,’ returned Whittaker. (

“All right, all right,” nodded Thorne.

“Have it
I won't contradict you.”

your own way.

They waited anxiously for the car to reappear 10
the vicinity of Softsweep Curve. The minutes crept ,
on and on.

i

of himself. Si |

“Nearly twenty minutes,” he muttered. “Can there
be anything the matter with the car?” |

“There it is!” cried Erank at last.

The cloud of dust rose, the car was seen flashing i

over the road, and then it vanished again.
“He's got five minutes to complete the rotund qd |

do it at a mile a mainte, said Thorne. é i

“We got the sound of his ex- ,

‘Whittaker betrayed nervousness in spite

\ ORs) 2

    
     
     
     
        
 
       
     
     
     
    
    
      
   
       
       
   
   
   
     
       
     
      
    
   
 
   

 

 
Cl ae

Whittaker muttered something which sounded like
an oath. He was disappointed already.
Again the car came into view. Down toward them
it flew, the sound of its exhaust. once more” floating,
to their ears. Whittaker’s hand, holding the watch,
still.

“There’s something wrong—there must be!’

was not perfectly
he
- muttered.
“Well,

bay this Hace in twenty- -five minutes it’s

now, Penrose,” said Thorne, “when a car

going
some.’

“Oh, yes, I admit that, but Oldring was out to
make the best time he could. There will be laps
made round this track to-morrow at the rate of sey-
enty miles an hour, or I’m mistaken.”

“Tm afraid, my friend,’ said Thorne, “that you
realize your mistake now.”
Whittaker did not reply. In grim silence he waited
until the thundering automobile flashed past the start-
‘ing point.

“Exactly twenty-four minutes and fifty-eight sec-
onds,” cried Thorne shrilly |
said

“Fifty-seven seconds and three quarters,”
_ Whittaker, but there was no elation in his voice.

CHAPTER IV.
THE EAVESDROPPER.

“Too bad, too bad,” cackled Hopkins Thorne. “I
was afraid it would pan out that way?)

grumbled the big man. “I
Oldring will

You

“J don’t understand it,”
say, Thorne, take us over to Prosper.
swing round there. I want to talk with him.
don’t mind, do you, | Mektiwel 11?”

is “Certainly not, Mr. Whittaker.
, We'll settle our little
‘business after we get back to the hotel.”

4;

stay. until ‘the race is over, -

4 And so a few moments later they were rolling softly

ywn the hill to sw ing onto the course and, make for

fi
I’m here now, to _

WEEKLY. 7

They reached Prosper a minute behind Oldring and
saw him slip into the garage with the big racer. Whit-
taker reassured the guards who came hastening out to
turn the approaching automobile aside, and a few
were outside the

moments later they garage them-

selves. Through the open door they saw Oldring

standing beside the machine,. while Deeping, the

The
Then he came

mechanician, tinkered at something. driver

glanced. round and discovered them.
striding out, dust-covered, his goggles pushed up on
his forehead.
“How do you do, Mr. Whittaker,” he smiled.
“How do you de,”

“Friends of mine, Oldring.

said a big man a bit gruffly.
“his is Hopkins Thorne ;
and this is Frank eee

“What ?””
intently at Merry.

cried Mat Oldring, starting and looking
“Frank Merriwell—Frank Merri-
well, the old Yale wonder?”

Frank smiled.

“T’ma Yale grad, Mr. Oldring,” he said, extending és

his hand. “I’m very glad to meet you.”

Oldring shook hands heartily.

“Tm more than glad to meet you, Merriwell,” he
said. “I used to be a great admirer of yours—am
now. One time before I got into this present game
I had ambitions in the athletic line. You were a sort —
L nae long oo
sired to have the pleasure of meeting you.” .
Oldring,”

speak with equal sincerity.

of model—an inspiration for me.

“put I will” ,
It is a great pleasure to.

“You flatter me, said Frank;
meet and shake hands with the cleanest, nerviest rac- vp
ing automobile driver in America.”

Oldring’s

and he showed some embarrassment.

thin, tanned face seemed to flush a bit, A
In spite of the
admiration of gaping) thousands who had watched him

racing: against time at the wheel of an automobile that

often was making better than express- -train speed, he

had retained a great deal of his youthful modesty.

Whittaker and the others. had stepped out of the
The big man again spoke to the famous driver.
“We timed you round the eer, Oldring,” he. sa

“tt was a disappointment to me.”

car.

_ Oldring glanced swiftly, round to make ‘sire ha

_ none of the guards | were within earshot. é |

d

 
  

ie ee

“You needn’t Ba disappointed, Mr. Whittaker,” he

   
  
   
  
 
 
 
    
   
  
 
     
     
     
   
   
 
      
     
       
     
     
 

we

said, “I was not.’
“You weren't ?” \
“No.” :
“Why—why you made a mile a minute, but you
had a flying start, and you were driving the Ajax for
all there was in it.”
“May I tell you something in the presence of these

gentlemen ?”’

“Certainly, certainly. They are confidential friends
of mine. I-trust them fully.”

“T could have cut that time down a great deal, Mr.
Whittaker. The Ajax was not doing its best.”

“Why, I don’t understand that!

timing you in order that I might be absolutely assured

You knew I was

in regard to what the car could do.”

“You and your friends were not the only ones who
were timing me, Mr. Whittaker.

his watch on me. He was timing me from Notch

Baste
“Eh?
found out what you were up to, did he?”

Oh, Cotman—the Flashwell man. Then he
“Some one put him wise.

ms 4

me to demonstrate all there was in the Ajax. He

found a spot at Notch Hill from which he could get

 

my time without being detected, as he supposed. Now

I made the circuit of that course on my judgment re-

 

garding time. I tried to make it just a little bit slower
than Cotman knows it can be made with the Flashwell.
At the same time, once or twice I let the Ajax out

for short stretches, and I tell you on my word of

down two minutes, at least, if I had desired to do so.
_ There was no need, however, of putting any of our
_ tivals wise to the fact that they are going to be up
Ba

the real. thing to-morrow. I hope, sir, you're

not displeased ?” \

  

Gradually Penrose Whittaker’s his had expanded
~ with an appreciative smile. Now he slapped Oldring
‘heartily upon the shoulder. | ;
“Well done, my boy—well done,” he said.
“clever. i, take your word for it that the Ajax can beat
the time it made to-day. Do you think you certainly

van beat the Flashwell to-morrow ?”

  

WEEKLY.

Henry Cotman had

Cotman knew you wished.

honor, Mr. Whittaker, that I could have cut that time |

“You're

“Tf no accidents happen to prevent, the Ajax will
finish ahead of the Flashwell, Mr. Whittaker. I shall
take every possible precaution to prevent an accident,
but.in these races no man can tell what may happen.
Twice when I’ve felt absolutely sure of winning I’ve
Once I skidded

lost through unforeseen accidents.

and went through a board fence. The other time my
steering gear broke adrift, and they picked me up for
dead along with my mechanician, who had a broken

neck.”
“And

you still drive in such races! You still have the cour-

“Great mercies!” throbbed Hopkins Thorne.

age to take your life in your hand, knowing you may
be killed any moment!”
“Tm

not saying I never will, for I’ve seen better men than

“I haven’t lost my nerve yet,” said Oldring.

I whose blood turned to water. There was DeKalb—
he didn’t seem to fear anything, but after killing that
He wasn’t to
blame for the death of the boy, but he couldn’t drive
any more.” |

boy in Louisville he lost his nerve.

Whittaker rubbed his hands together, beaming once

more.
“We'll give them a surprise to-morrow,’ he
boomed. ‘Watch the car to-night, Oldring. Have it

evarded faithfully.”
“Oh, I’m taking care of that. If they try, they

won't get at the car to do it any damage.”

“And look out for yourself, my boy—look out for

yourself.

driver if they can’t get at the car.”

”

 

“T hope you don’t mean
“Oh, I'd trust you.

You know sometimes they tamper with the —

I’d trust you with my life, “4

oe

Oldring, but you want to take care of yourself. W ould |

you like to look the racer over, Merriwell ?”

”

“IT would indeed, thank you, nodded Frank. :

Merry was given the privilege of inspecting the

racing monster thoroughly, and he spent a good half

hour\in doing so. Every moment he was near the

machine he knew he was watched by more than one _

pair of eyes. Even though he had been brought there

by Penrose Whittaker, the guards were doing their ss

Cutyt /

I

/

_A man approached Oldring ‘and spoke. to him. |

Se

  

ace

    
         
          
       
      
       
     

     
  
        

Te FOP

     
  
    
   
   
  
 
    
   
  
   
   
  
   
  
  
        
       
     
       
     
     
      
        
       
   
       
     
     
    
    
    
     
   

Frank looked at the man keenly and asked his name

¥ when he had departed.
“That fellow?” said Oldring. “Oh,

®\anners, my assistant mechanician.

he’s Gus Mc-

If anything

should happen to Deeping, McManners would go into
, the race with me to-morrow.”

4 “Gus McManners!’

know if he has ever been a driver?”

muttered Frank. “Do you

“Oh, yes, he’s driven, but he didn’t make much of
He’s a

he lacks some quality that would make him a _ first-class

a sticcess at it. corking good mechanician, but
racing driver.”
‘ Cade ‘ ‘
Before Frank left he invited Oldring to step outside
with him and give him a word in private. They passed
round behind the garage.
“Oldring,”

'  mechanician,

said Merry, “I am suspicious of your
McManners. I'll give you my reasons.
My brother drove in the race for the Daremore cup
a year ago. He drove a Climax, and he was put in
to fill the place of a treacherous driver at the last

4

+ moment. That driver was Gus McManners.”

“Now look here, Merriwell,” said Oldring soberly,
“T happen to know about that race. I happen to know
that McManners was scheduled to drive and didn’t
do so. It was reported, however, that he was ill.”
“Fe was not ill, He sold out Peyton Steele, the
backer of the Climax car. That’s! why he: was not
a permitted to drive in that race. That’s why my
o re brother, who had never before driven in a race, was
put at the wheel of the car.”

“You're absolutely sure of this thing of course,
Merr well ?”

“Absolutely. I Boe it from my brother, and there’s

no question about it. Although there may not have been

- proof enough against McManners to blacklist ium,

he was a crook. You want to look out for that man,

 

_ Oldring, for he will certainly
Frank stopped short.

“window open in the rear of the garage.

 
 

“gaze ashed toward that window the face of McMan-
hers was seen. The man dodged aw ay instantly...

WEEKLY. | 9

‘an appearance.

, about him,”

_ there was enough evidence to satisfy,Peyton Steele that

| Something caused him to.
turn his head to glance upward. — _Thére was a little
As Merry’s

er a eee ea aero aeaedcee

resciet eee ae mae el

    

“He has been listening, Oldring. McMannefs heard
every word I told you.”

“Listening, eh? Heard what you were saying, did
ner

area

“Well, if he isn’t guilty he will be out here in less
than thirty seconds calling you all the liars he can lay
his gongue to.”’

“We'll wait,” said Frank, “but he won’t come.”

CHAPTER V.

THE’ RASCAL,

Merry was right; McManners did not come. They

waited several minutes, but the man failed to put in

“You’re dead stire it was McManners you saw at
that window, are you, Merriwell?” asked Oldring.

“Dead sure.”

“Then the very fact that he has failed to confront
you after hearing himself accused of such crookedness
proves that he is the thoroughbred. rascal you claim.
I can’t afford to have such a man fooling around the
Ajax.

‘What will you do?”
“Fire him.”
“When?”
“Immediately. *.

“If I. were not absolutely positive that I am Keli
said Frank, “I should regret being the

 

cause of his dismissal. If there was éven a doubt in
my mind, I’d feel regret over throwing him out of a
job.” | :

“There’s 10 doubt in my mind now,” said Oldring.

“A man who hears himself. accused of such crooked
business will lose no time in facing his accuser and
To tell you the

truth, I’ve had a few vague doubts concerning Mc-.

calling him a liar—if he is innocent.

Manners; but he’s one of the finest mechanicians I
know—a better man even than Deeping—and so I’ve
kept him.” are cigs eee

“Do you have to consult Mr. Whittaker about dis-

charetg. him ?”’ ‘

'
TIP TOP

“T don’t have to consult, any one. I am given full
authority to employ such mechanicians as I choose.”
“You're sure the other man js all right?”
Oh, certain of it, Merriwell,
If you want

‘Deeping? Now be-
fore we part let me give you a little tip.
to make some easy money to-morrow take a chance on
the Ajax. I’ve driven racers enough to know what
I’m talking about, and I’m giving you a straight tip
when I saw that unless some unforeseen accident pre-
vents we'll come pretty near winning the cup. There’s
not a better racing car than the Ajax built in America
to-day.”

“Thank you,” smiled Frank; “but I think I shall be
quite satished to watch the race without putting up
any money on it.”

“I’m going to take a venture myself,” said Oldring.

“When I shoved the indicator on my speedometer up

f he to sixty to-day and knew I still had something in re-
ke cs serve my last doubt was dispell ed. M |

“How about the well-known structural’ weakness
of the. car?”
_ “A weakness in the differential gears which has
been eliminated, take my word for it. “I’ve had those
gears in my fingers and made q minute examination
of them. They are as fine and as perfect and as strong
as such gears can be made. F ormerly the Ajax had
its trouble on sharp curves, where the strain came
hedliest on the differentials.

the same as heretofore used, we have no such curves

Even if the gears were

on the Belvidere course. There never was ariything

“surer regarding a borning automobile race than Ses

9?

pi the’ nae will win-

{a Gdueisned Frank. ‘“McManners is still lis-

tening. He’s there close by the | put keeping

himself out GU pete M51" .

- Oldring’s face flushed with anger.
* he whispered, ‘
Talk as if you were speaking to

-“Merriwell,’
0 > yourself a nh

‘remain ‘here and talk

WEEKLY.

garage, for there was the mechanician hugging the —

wall close by the open window, toward which one of
his ears was cocked.
yeas cat Bids atl ca
ring appeared and stepped quickly forward.
Oldring met the man,, looking him through and
through with a coldly cutting eye. .
“you may get out.”

‘“‘McManners,”’ he said quietly,

“Get out where, Mat?’ asked the treacherous fellow
with pretended innocence, “What do you want me
to doP”

“I want you to pack up your belongings and get out

of this garage just as quick as you can.”

“I don’t think I understand?’

“Yes, you do; you understand me perfectly. I'll see

‘that Winston pays you off.”

“Why—why, do you mean that fm discharged ?”’

“You don’t have to guess again.”

“Discharged—what for?”

“We won't discuss it at all.”

“But I have a right, to know why lm fired, Old-
ring. What have I done that you should kick me off
the job at this stage of the game? You know w hat
it means to me,

that I was discharged the day before the race? You're
giving me a black eye, Oldring. You're throwing sus-

picion on me and

fully aware of my reasons I’d waste time explaining. _

As it is, I haven’t another word to say to you.”

McManners knew Oldring we ell enough to feel satise

fied that this settled it. He cursed bitterly beneath —

his breath, rage tingling in every nerve of his body.

“Tl kill the fellow who did me this dirty turn!” Me

He whispered to himself as Oldring walked away.

“What's the matter, Gus?” asked Luke Beeplig.
as McManners, his face dark with rage, was passing.
The discharged man paused a moment. |
“Y’'m fired,” he said bitterly.
PRivee ets) ue.
ees.
Why 3 pt. | 3 | |
“Oldring didn’t tell me why, ‘bid AN know: just the
I heard that man Merriwell ta king . to hint
-Merriwell has cut the groun

same.
out vee the garage.

He started with surprise as Old-

“Tf I didn’t know for a positive fact that you were

How, am I to account for the fact |”

 
 

  

out from under me. He’s been telling some dirty lies
about me.”

“If that’s the case, why don’t you light on him?
Why don’t you face him and make him swallow his
lies? There he is now, just ready to get into the car

outside the door. Go for him.”
z a Fs NG;

just the same, you bet your life.

Pil get at him

I’m not the kind of

said McManners, “not now.

 

a man to let any one do such a thing to me without
ih showing proper reSentment.”’
| “T’d knock the head off him,” said Deeping.
“Perhaps you would if you took him unawares, but
you'd never do it if he saw you coming. He’s an
athlete—a fighter, too.”
“Are you afraid of him?” questioned Deeping, as-
tonished, for heretofore he had fancied Gus McMan-
ners did not fear the devil himself. ; : i

“No, I’m not afraid of him, but I know better than

What good

 

to go out there and attack him now.

Veh
oe 5
_ would it do me? Id get myself arrested and locked
up. I don’t want to be in the jug to-morrow. Look

here, Luke, I’ve no time to talk with you now, but
I do want to tell you a few things. Where will I see
you later?” :
“Tl be at) Murphy’s for supper.”
“T’m not going to hang around Murphy’s. Will
you be in town this evening ?”
j “Why, I—I might get in for an hour or so.”
at “Meet me at Crosby’s, cornet of Pacific Avenue
and Ford Street. I’ll be there at eight o’clock.” .
“T don’t know
“Meet nte, Luke,”
wise to something. I'll show you how ‘you can make
I'll tell you of a

 

” began Deeping doubtfully.
urged McManners. “I'll put you

co, clean-up on the race to-morrow.
| . ure thing.”

Deeping smiled and shrugged his shoulders doubt-
- fully.
| “There are no sure things in an pananiobis bade,’
3 he said.
asserted McManners, “and

“What do you-

“This is a sure thing,”
Tl prove it to you if you meet me.
; : say? ata
7 by APs \
ey WY Olds T'll be thete if I can.” Rice
i “Don' t tell any one you're going to meet me, Luke,

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

‘

    
     
  
    
   
  
    
  
   
   
 
    
   
   
    
  
      

11

 

 

whispered McManners. ‘Don’t say a word about it.
It will mean a roll of long green for your pocket big
enough to choke a horse.” ;

With
away to gather up his belongings, shed his garage

this alluring statement McManners strode

ciothes and leave the place.

CHAPTER WI.
A DOUBTING THOMAS.

Having bade Oldring “so-long,” Penrose Whittaker
settled back comfortably and well satisfied in the ton-
neau of the touring car as it rolled away on the return
trip to Belvidere. He had lighted a big cigar, after
offering similar weeds to his two companigas. Merry
explained that he did not smoke, and Thorne stated
that Whittaker’s cigars were too heavy for him.

“Well, boys,”
satisfied now.

rumbled the big man, “I hope you’re
I hope you realize that I’m not the
sucker some people take me for. Now you can see,

Thorne, that I have good reasons\for believing the

   

Ajax practically dead sure to finish in the race and be

    
 

one of the first three cars, at least. Now you can

    
 

understand why I’ve wagered good money that the
Ajax will finish ahead of the Flashwell.”

    
     
 

Thorrie pulled a doubtful face.

    
 

Sy don’ t know that I’m satisfied, Donner ” he said.

    
 

“T admit that your car made one lap on the course

    
 

in time which would have been considered wonderful
Conditions have changed,

 
    

two or three years ago.
however. The car that could win three years ago
won’t win to-day, and a mile a minute on a test to

          
       
 

find out just what is the best any car can do is far

    
 

from a guarantee that that car will win.’

      
 

“Oh, confound it, man, you heard Oldring say te

    
 

had speed in reserve.”

 
 

“Yes, I heard him say so.’ j a
“Well, you know Mat Oldring never talks through
his hat.” :

“This automobile racing game is just about as un-—

 
   
   
     
 

certain as horse racing, Penrose, and’ you’ve had a

   

finger in that. You know that fifty per cent. of the

 
    

horse races pulled off in this country are fixed in-

     

advance.”
    

    
    
   
  
  
  
  
    
  
 
    
  
   
  
   
    
  

T2 TIP’ TOP

“And I suppose by that you mean that this race

to-morrow will be fixed in advance?”
The little man shrugged his shoulders,
“T’ve

fixed.”

an idea that most of the automobile races are

“You're wrong—dead wrong.”

“How do you know?”

“Common serise teaches me that stich a thing is im-
possible.”
“Explain why impossible,” urged Thorne.

“Now look here, the automobile game is the fiercest
thing in this country to-day. Every manufacturer who
could do so. has gone into it. Factories have sprung
up everywhere, and cars are turned out by the mil-

ke lions. The big buying public has been educated re-
i garding the automobile in a most amazing manner
during the past few years, Three or four years ago

you might sell almost any kind of car that could take

 

a prospective buyer out and give him a good demon-

_ stration.
“Tt’s different to-day: The buyer not only takes
but

commutator to tires,

his demonstration, *he looks the car over from
He demands to know every
i detail concerning the construction of that car. He
demands to know what sort of steel is used in the
gears, the driving shaft, the axles.
of them are used. Well, what's the result?
a. manufacturers of power cars, which formerly sold at
a price ranging from twenty-five hundred dollars up-

ward, have been compelled to turn out cars at a lower

  

price. You can buy an automobile now at any old

| price. The rivalry in the cheaper field is just as fierce

  

, and just as intense as it is among the manufacturers

   

of the best. cars, her tk

“Manufacturers of the high- en cars know this

  

fight, like other fights, is going to terminate in the
irvival of the fittest.
to,a race that is fixed, for if they can win it means

  

big, money. to them—it means everything,

make a net pee ‘it is liable to ai ruin. In

He learns pre-|
cisely what sort of bearings are used and how many :
The

good money into the Ajax Motor Car Company unless _

They can’t afford to put a car :

Tf they !
tr Guat

WEEKLY.

self any harm. In fact, he will improve his chance

of making a big clean-up on some other race in which

Ry SSR her ot we
—_

 

he puts that same horse in to win. He will get better

 

     

odds in the betting. Oh, no, Thorne, you're too .
shrewd to believe that pony racing and bubble racing
are pulled off in precisely the same manner.” By

The little man listened with a queer, almost sneer- ;
ing smile upon his face.

“He, he!’ he laughed. “I'll admit that some points “
of your argument are well taken) Penrose, but I deny’
that there is any racing game played in this country
on the level. I’ve watched this automobile racing
pretty closely. Last year the manufacturers of three ee
high-priced cats divided racing honors pretty evenly bid
among themselves. It was so fixed that they should
do this. They arranged it somehow to keep the other )
fellows down, and they took care not to buck up ioe 3
against one another to their own detriment. T hey’re ae
still working the same lay, Penrose. ae

“You will note that the Stokes-Wayne is not en- :
tered for the Vanstrorn cup. The Stokes-Wayne won, ’
the race in Florida six weeks ago. The Flashwell es
wasn’t in that race. The Majestic isn’t entered for. 3 a a F
the Vanstrom cup. It is entered for the race at . | :

    
 

Lowell. If you'll take notice, neither the Flashwell .

    
 

nor the Stokes-Wayne will compete in the Lowell race.
Now,

Maes

‘turers are dividing this up handsomely.

   

Penrose, think it over. Those three manufac-

 
 

They know a

      
 

They” ,
khow, every one of them, that the game is fixed.
If you had asked my
advice, I’d have cautioned ‘you against putting your

the Flashwell is due to win here to-morrow.

      
 

You’re an outsider, Penrose.

 
      
    
  
   

you had. a thorough understanding in advance with
| It’s too late now. You're
a eT a \ Pe
Whittaker exploded. ; !
“T must say you're confoundedly psin-paen,” he

these rival concerns.

         
   

 
 
   
 

  

blurted. ae seem to think I'm 2 an easy mark.”

     
   
 
 

ata and so I hesitated, o

 
 

“Don’t my have an idea that “ what you say is

  
 

ES let’
that the majority of mankind are honest.

£IPS TOP

“ Perhaps “he——— Blazes! you’re not insinuating
that Mat Oldring is crooked, are you?”

“Everybody in this country to-day is looking after
his own pocketbook,” said Thorne significantly.

“And by that you mean that Mat Oldring would
sell himself. Why, he’s got a reputation.”
“So had the Philadelphia grafters. So had certain
Frisco gentlemen who were prominent in the church
and in society and were fattening off the city’s till.”

“Hang it “all, don’t you believe anybody is on 'the
level, Thorne?”

“Mighty few.”

_ Whittaker tossed up his pudgy gloved hands and
let them fall with a slap upon his knees.

“Great thunder!” he ripped out. “If we’ve come
to be a nation of crooks and cutthroats, it’s time for
Japan or some other country to open up on us and
wipe us off the map.”

_ He turned to Merriwell.
“Do you believe, young man,” he demanded, “that

everybody is a crook? Don’t you think there are still

- gome honest men left in the United States?”

“I certainly do think there are plenty of honest men
“In fact, I believe
It has al-

answered Frank earnestly.

| ways been my policy to think a man on the level until |

I find out that he is not.”
_ “He, he, he!’ snickered Hopkins Thorne. “That's
“inays the policy of easy marks.”
. Merry felt like taking Thorne by the scruff of the
; neck and throwing him out of the car. Considering
“the fact, hawever, that it was Thorne’s car, Frank
| restrained this impulse, and likewise closed his lips to
te, hold back his opinion of a man whose faith in hu-

manity was so completely lowered.

_ “I’ve been in business a good many, years,’
‘Whittaker, ‘ I admit
that it’s the policy of many a business man to do the

‘and I’ve met all sorts of men.
other fellow by fair means or foul. Some will éven

do their own friends in business. I’ve known a chap

Oo would go out and blow his money on a friend, 3

l then overcharge or cheat that same friend in

ae insignificant | business deal, Such a man is a

‘make an error.

” said

with the great automobile . manufacturer,

\
sir, that you had wired for accommodations.

 

WEEKLY.

ce

In business friendship ceases, Penrose,” said
Thorne.

“It may with some men, but not with all.”

“Besides, Mat Oldring is not your personal friend.
You can’t even look for a square deal from him on
the score of friendship.”

“Merriwell,” questioned Whittaker,
think of Oldring?

*“T do not.

“what do you
Do you believe he’s a crook?”

To a certain extent, I have a fancy that
I am a fairly good judge of human nature. This is
not strange, considering the fact that almost every
other man thinks the same thing about himself.
Nevertheless, experience has shown me that I seldom
When I shook hands with Oldring,

when I looked him straight in the eyes, I felt that I

a

had met an.honest man.”

“Not one jockey in twenty is on the level,” said
Thorne. ‘There’s something about the racing game
that makes men crooked. Why should automobile

racing drivers be any more reliable than jockeys?

Penrose, I’m sorry for you. You're caught between

the millstones, and you're going to be crunched.

They’ll squeeze you. You'll lose the money you've
bet on the race, and you'll find your automobile in-
vestment a loser, too.”

Unable to restrain himself longer, Whittaker re-
lieved his feelings with some red-hot language.

“T don’t care a continental what you think,”
“Tm

went on, “my confidence remains unshaken.

ever ready togbet more money on the Ajax.”

CHAPTER VII.

IN: SELF-DEFENSE.

Reaching the Century Hotel, Merriwell asked for
the key of his room at the desk. oe :
“Vou were very lucky, Mr. Merriwell,” beamed the i:

clerk with amazing affability, the change in his man-

ner having come about because he had seen Frank —
Penrose |
Whit taker.
to tell you that all the rooms were taken.

“When you registered I didn’t have time.
I supposed,
» The

: nO is full to overflowing.”

 
  

 

j

“Frank Merriwell?

“morrow.”

well will take the cup)”

14 TIP LOOP
“But you said I was lucky,” said Frank.
“You are. An outside room such as you called for

was given up shortly after you registered. You'll find
your luggage in that room. Here, Front, show the

gentleman up to three twenty-seven.”

Merry found his luggage in the room, which was
really very satisfactory. He proceeded to peel off,
take a bath and get into clean clothes. Then he came
down for dinner.

The lobby of the hotel was filled with sleek, well-
groomed men, whose appearance indicated that they
were persons of money and affairs. There were a
great number of sporting men, and+the talk was

mainly of the coming cup race. In the gathering

Frank recognized by sight several well-known indi-

viduals. There were some famous drivers. of past

days, such as Frouchard, Goth, and Brander.
“Hello!” said Goth, speaking to two companions.
“On my word, there’s Frank Merriwell.”
He came forward and shook hands with Merry.

“So you’re on here for the race, are you?” he said.

“T didn’t suppose you’d remember me,” smiled
\

Frank.
“Wouldn’t remember you—wouldn’t remember

I don’t think you’re a man people

easily forget.”

“TI didn’t come on for the race,” said Merry, “busi-

ness brought me here. I have some important busi-
ness with Penrose Whittaker.”
“Whittaker? ~The man behind the Ajx re

HMR Bs:

/
“Well, now see here, my boy, don’t you let him

lead you into putting up any good money on that car.

It’s a lemon.” 5
“Are you making" that statement on its past hence
Goth glanced around to make sure no one else was
listening. © ;
“If you bet any money on the Ajax out lose,”

he said in a low tone. “That car won’t finish to-

“What makes you think so?”
“Never mind. I’m tipping you off-in a friendly

fashion, and I’m giving it to you straight. The Flash-

a

an acquaintance.

     
  
   
  
  
   
   
   
 
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
  

WEEKLY.

.

 

“Aren’t you simply saying this becausé the
well)is the natural favorite?”
“No.

a dead sure thing.

I’m saying it because I know it’s practically
The Ajax is out of it before the
race begins.”

Merry was curious to know why Goth should make
this statement so positively, but in spite of his. ques-
tioning he could not lead the old driver into telling
his reasons for believing the Ajax had.no chance in
Frank thought of the words of Hopkins
all, that these auto-

the race.
Thorne. Was it possible, after
mobile races were fixed in advance, like crooked horse
races?

said Goth,

“IT want to see him.

““There’s Ben Lipp,” catching sight of
PP § sig

Awfully glad to have met you again.
Don's be beaten.”

old man. Don’t

forget what I've told you.

With which he hurried away Micoiall the iota
to overtake Lipp.

A boy came through the room calling Merriwell’s
name. At the sound of that name it seemed as if half
the men in the room turned and watched to see who
would answer to the_call.
Merriwell.

“What is it, boy?” asked Merry.

Mr,

hundred and one.

Whittaker says he will see you now in suite

two He wishes you to bring the
papers.”’ |

Frank had the papers in his pocket. He had fancied
he might see Whittaker at dinner and talk the matter

over with the man. However, he ascended at once

and rapped at the door of suite two hundred and one.

Whittaker was waiting.

“Thought we might as well get that dittle business

over, Merriwell, ” he said.
over.
to put my fist to them.’

He examined the papers critically, yet running

through them swiftly.

“Thought/ I’d settle this business up with you now, |
for I’m going to be pretty busy. Won't have time —

to-morrow, and I’ve an engagement for this é¢vening.”’
: ; be :

ae

Excuse me,”

They had heard of Frank

“Let me look those papers —
If they are all right it won't take me a jiffy ?

 

sama at

 

i

          
       
         
         
       
      
 
     
      
     
       
   
    
     
    
   
   
   
      
   

40% oe

“Tt’s all right,” he nodded, sitting down at a desk. —

 
       
 
  

    
He blotted his signature and handed the papers back
to Frank, who thanked him. f

“I’m glad you told Thorne what you thought: about
said Whittaker.
hadn’t been for you Thorne might have jarred me a
. 4G -ilittle. I’ve

said are true.

 

ait dh

Oldring,” “Don’t you know, if: it

got to own up that most of the things he

 

It seems as if everybody has gone plumb
money-mad in these days, and is ready to sell himself
for a price. It wouldn’t ruin me if I got stung in this
I’m pleased to think you have an idea the race will
be on the level.”

 

| “T’m not dead sure it will be on the level, Mr. Whit-
taker,” said Frank. |
“Hey? . You're
“No, I didn’t say I was.

not?”
‘ I am confident, however,
that Mat Oldring will drive the Ajax car to win if
it’s in the car. If you lose I don’t believe Oldring
will be responsible.”’ !
“Well, that’s
Merry did. not tell him of his conversation with

a George Goth.

some satisfaction, anyhow.”

He knew it would simply give Whit-
; \
taker a feeling of uneasiness, and Frank had been

unable to learn why Goth should feel so positive that

 

_ the Ajax had no chances in the race:

 

_ Descending, Merry dined and enjoyed a very good

 

j meal. After dinner he met two or three men he

  

knew and chatted with them. As he was about. to

 

ascend to his room he came upon two men, one of

 

aon was talking loudly and excitedly. , This per-

 

son’ s face was flushed and his manner seemed to indi-
It was Gus MeMan-
ners, and the man to whom he was speaking was

  

cate that he had been drinking.

  
  

Whittaker’s private secretary, Walter Cross.

  
  

_ “Hush, hush!” Cross was saying. “Don’t shout

‘

 

like that. Don’t make a scene.”

  

 

cried

  

i cn tell you Frank Merriwell i
McManners,
down his throat!” oe
“Great Scott!’ said Citas. “Here re libs!

-McManners wheeled and found himself face to face

a dirty liar,”
“and if he was he

  

e I’d ram his lies

  

  

ith a a F Bay blazed in sig eyes.

TIP: TOP: WHEKDY:

automobile business, but it would hit me pretty hard. ‘

rasp ooh
witnesses.

“hotel “manager.

 

  

Merry looked at the excited man calmly for a mo-
ment, then stepped on as if to pass without a word.

Like a panther McManners leaped and struck.

He Side-

stepping, Merry avoided that blow.

did not catch Frank off. guard, however.

Cross reached ineffectually to grasp McManners
by the shoulders. The maddened mechanician recov-

ered himself and came at Merriwell again.

As much as he disliked it, Frank was compelled to
defend himself. He met McManners with a stiffly
outshot arm, and the man went down, measuring his

length upon the tiled floor, where he lay stunned.

 

CHAPTER VIII. ;

SELEIN GAP DECOY;

It was all over in a twinkling. Merry’s would-be

assailant was down and out. Frank stood regarding
the fallen man with a regretful look upon his face.

The
manager thrust himself through the circle and spoke

to Frank.

The crowd in the lobby came pressing around.

said Merry; “but the fellow forced it

,

“Tm sorry,”
upon me.” :

“T happened to see it all, sir,’ returned the man-_
ager. “You were the one attacked. But what was
the cause of it?”

“The man is intoxicated,” said Merry.

Walter Cross had hastily backed away and lost him-
self in the gaping throng.

“Prettiest thing I ever saw,” declared one of the
“The fellow went after Merriwell twice—
and then he got his.”

McManners stirred feebly, tried to rise, lifted him-
self upon his elbow and then sank back;
“As clean a knockout as ever I saw in the prize
ring,”
character. aa he eae

oS: Shuts Sea Frank, “that McManners j is not sete

chuckled a man who looked like Be spopne:

ously hurt.’

“Oh, then you know him, do you?” questioned phd “

| “By name, ny sight, and by reputation,” answered

 

     
      
     
       
       
   
 

 
 

16 TIP: TOP

Merry. “I’ve never had any direct dealings with him.
Doubtless he fancies he has a grievance against me.”

“Well, he’s not a guest of the house, and no one
can come here and assault a euest,” said the irate
manager, as McManners again struggled to rise and
succeeded in sitting up. ‘Here, porter, get this fel-
low outside at once.”

The porter, a husky-looking individual, shouldered
his way through the crowd, placed his hands beneath

“McManners’ arms and lifted the man to his feet.
“Lemme go, lemme, go,” muttered McManners
“Tl kill him!’

“You need a little air,”

hazily.
said the porter. ‘‘Make
room here.”
In short order they bundled McManners out of the
hotel by a side door.
At least twenty persons congratulated Merriwell,
_but Frank declared he was not at all proud of such

an affair.

“It’s no credit to knock down a man who has been

drinking,” he said, “but I ct had to do so to de-
fend myself.”

George Goth was one of those who offered con-

‘ gratulations. Goth, however, lingered to add a word
_ of warning.

“You want to look out for Gus: McManners, Mer-
riwell,” he said in a low tone. “It’s evident he’s got
it in for you, and he’s a bad egg.”

“I’m quite sure he’s a bad egg,’ nodded Merry,
“but I don’t think he’s very dangerous.”

“He’s revengeful. What has he got against you,
anyhow ?”

Frank explained briefly, iia when Gotl 1 understood
the situation he shook his head again.

“McManners' will never forgive’ you,” he said.
‘Doubtless you were justified in cautioning Oldring,
but it seems to me that Oldring himself should have

known better than to engage a man like that.”

“THe said’: McManners was one of the most skillful —

mechanicians he knew.” |
“And that’s just the sort of a man who understands
how to put a car on the blink with such cleverness

‘been tampered with, Fe Mead otek

 

that! it’s almost impossible to detect that the car has”

WEEKLY.

a3

“Then you think that McManners would have——'

“No, no,” hastily interrupted Goth, “I’m not saying
anything of the kind. Don’t quote me as saying such
a thing, please.”

The very fact that Goth was so extremely anxious

not to be understood as hinting that McManners might

have tampered with the Ajax led Merry to believe the

man either knew or suspected some sort of a scheme
to injure the car so that it would stand no possible
chance of winning the race.

Feeling somewhat mortified over the encounter in

the lobby of the hotel, Merry retired to his room. In

each room there was a telephone which connected with

the long distance, and Frank proceeded to call up Old-
ring at Prosper. He got the driver,

just preparing to turn in for the night. When Old-

ting learned of the encounter in the Century Hotel

he made a few heated remarks.

“T fired the fellow before you left the garage, Mr.
Merriwell,” he said. “I caught him crouching close
to that open window, which proved he had been listen-
ing, and therefore I knew beyond question, he had
heard your accusation. His bearing was that of a
cuilty man. Had he been innocent, he would have
faced you here instead of waiting to be fired, Pos-
sibly he thought he might put up a bluff with me and
When

, however, he knew it was

continue to hold his job until after the race.
he was caught listening
all off.” yi f

“T didn’t call you up merely to tell you about this
“I’ve had a talk with.

said Frank.
You know Goth,
he says the Ajax isn’t a hundred-to-one-shot.

scrap, Oldring,”’
Well,

George Goth. of course.

says you have no chance of winning to-morrow, and

the way he said it leads me to believe he knows some-
thing he hasn’t told me.

Oldring. You had better have your car double

guarded until she Bs ; in the race to-morrow.”

bee
fF put two extra men to watch to- night, and

“At 38 double guarded, Merriwell,” assure
driver.

they’re men I,am dead confident I can trust.

an eye-opener to-morrow.”
“You're still confident ?” \

who said he was:

   

eae

ed DPSS AS ee

 

 

I felt that I must warn you,

thinks he knows a great deal, but he’s: liable to - ,

 

    
     
       
       
       
       
       
   
     
     
     
       
      
      
         
  
  
   
    
    
  
  
  
   
   
  
   
    
         
       
   
     
     
      
      
       
        
    
  
   

PEP LOR

“Merriwell, I believe the Ajax is the fastest car
I’ve ever driven; that’s all I’ve got to say.”
e They exchanged good-bys, and Frank hung up the

\ receiver.
; : “It will be a sensation,” he laughed, “if Whittaker’s
a f _ Ajax does win the cup to-morrow. . Nobody except
wee i Whittaker and Oldring seems to believe the Ajax has
: fea chance.”
| He had some ‘letters to write, and busied himself
at the task. Then he looked through a newspaper and
finally began to prepare for bed.

He was partly undressed when a bellboy brought

him a message in a sealed envelope. Frank’s name

 

and the number of-his room were written on the en-
Peek velope, and the handwriting seemed familiar, although

he could not say at a glance whose it was.

Tearing open the envelope, however, he drew forth

a sheet of paper on which there was a brief message,

 

with the name of Penrose Whittaker signed at the

 

: bottom.
“Ha!  Whittaker’s writing!’ muttered ' Merry.
ETE: ;
“That’s why it looks familiar.” . Nae

His brows puckered in a slight frown when he had
read that message, which was as follows:

“Dear Mr. MERRIWELL: Will you be good enough
to come to the Sherman House at once? I dislike to
trouble you at this hour, but for certain reasons I
must have your evidence against Gus McManners.
Oldring’s action in discharging McManners promises
to make trouble for me unless you can show that he
had proper cause for his action, The bearer of this
will conduct you to the Sherman House.
“PENROSE WHITTAKER.”

‘

   

“Who brought this?” Merry asked of the bellboy.

“A young fellow who’s waiting downstairs,”

      
 
     
      
      
     
     
      
     
     
      

was
the answer.

“Tell him I'll be down in a few minutes.”

There was something a bit odd about,this business,
_ but Merry did not take time: to meditate upon it.
_ Dressing hastily, he descended and found the young
~ man who had brought the message, He was a slouch-
_ ing, shifty-eyed chap under twenty years of age.
QW far is it to the Sherman House?” asked
: Frank, © . oe

WEEKLY. ) : | 7

_ strangling.
‘>

\

“Not far,’ was the answer.
Trim Street it’s only a short distance.”
Frank did not calla cab. He felt that a short walk

would do him good,

“If we cut through

and so he followed his guide.
But the distance proved to be much greater than
Merry had expected, and as they approached the out-
skirts of Belvidere Merry somewhat impatiently in-
quired if they were not almost at their destination.
Site

“It’s only a little farther, assured the guide.

“The Sherman House had to close last year. It was
built before the town developed, and the builders 1lo-
cated it in the wrong The town went off and
left it.

He pointed toward a three-story building which sat
The

lawn of the building was inclosed by a high, thick

place.
There’ *tis.”’

grim and melancholy far back from the street.

hedge.
“Humph!” muttered Merry. “Looks like anything
but a hotel. I don’t see a light around the place.

What’s Whittaker doing here?”

“They opened>up the house to accommodate the
overflow of guests from the other places,” said the

young fellow; “but I don’t reckon they got a great

many. Here’s tlie gate, sir.”

They passed through the hedge into the yard.

 

 

Barely had Merry done so when he received a crush-
ing, wit-scattering blow upon the head. Theré was
something like a flash of lightning and a crash of io
thunder in his brain, and he pEnciey forward. sense- a

ee
TS ij

less upon the grass,

 

CHAPTER IX.
LIKE SAMSON OF OLD.

The muttering murmur of hoarse, suppressed voices
sounded far away. Merry heard then? like one half
awakened from a nightmare. © Something seemed to.
chain his limbs and hold him rigid and motionless,
while he mentally struggled to arouse himself. There
was a «ull, throbbing pain in his fead: he breathed
with difficulty. He could hear the rasping sound
of his own breathing, and gradually realized that he

was struggling to fill his lungs like a man who. is-

‘
   
   
   
  
   
    
 
    
 
  
  
  
   
     
     
   
   
     
       
      
       
    
    
       
        
      
   
     
   

ie | He's coming round.”
Yes, the whelp is coming round.”

Somehow, although the voices of the speakers were
husky and suppressed, Merry fancied he had heard
He wondered what

them before. had happened to

him. For the time being he had no recollection of

leaving the Century Hotel, nor of anything that had
Even his in

followed. . remembrance of arriving

Belvidere was like a hazy dream.

Then he caught a half-spoken, half-whispered word

 

which passed the lips of one of those men—a word

spoken in the midst of a sentence, yet. standing out

 

oth so clear and distinct that in a flash it aroused Frank
-as if he had received an electric shock.

That magic word was Then he remem-
bered.

which had been bowed upon his chest.

Ajax.”
He lifted his eyelids’ and raised his head,

He was sitting upon a chair in a large room with
low ceiling. Stout cords encircling his arms and his

_ body held him in an upright position upon that chair.

_ smoke-begrimed, dully illuminated a portion of the
‘room. ei

who were, beside himself, the sole occupants ‘of that
room. They were men who wore their coats turned
wrongside out, their collars turned up, slouch hats
os

faces below the eyes by means of, handkerchiefs,

     

which served in a way as masks, ©
‘(wo of these men stood close, their gaze turned

  

upon Merry. The third, a slouching figure, skulked
in the background. |
“Aha!” muttered one in satisfaction,

: “He’s com-
ing round—he’s surviving.”

  

: “Thought one time,” muttered the other, “that the

    

for fair.”
HOH; LE senee it hadn't, A sanidbag weiion kills.”
“What do you propose to do with him now?” —
“I’m going to matk him for life.
£ his: handsome face.
fter this night.” an Lee, ae
: be careful. Lee ;
Heise A Raa

 
 

   
   

He's proud

 

    

iP POP

ulled low over their eyes, and had concealed their

p you gave him on the head had settled ie hash

A swinging kerosene lamp, the chimney dirty and |
: might easily have qual lified as a “handwriting expert.”

. Merry’s eyes were turned full upon three persons,

He won't be so ne OL it:

   

WEEKLY.

“Now, don’t You leave it to me.

I'll take all the responsibility.”

get squeamish.
“He's listening,” was the apprehensive whisper.
“Merry tried to move—sought to rise to his feet.
Then, for the first time, he fully realized that it was
not the lethargy: of a horrible dream that held him
to the chair. He found he was bound fast and appar-
ently helpless in the hands of these ruffians.

Their dis-

 

Ruffians they were beyond question.
guises, their manner, their hoarsely whispered words
—everything indicated that they were desperate and
Merry

dangerous men. knew now that he had been

 

decoyed: into a trap, and he despised himself for it.
He remembered that in a vague way he had been’ |

suspicious on reading that message signed with the

name of Penrose Whittaker. Nevertheless, the writing

and the signature certainly was a clever forg gery—a

ie aia '

marvelously natural imitation of Whittaker’s chirog- |
raphy. He had not stopped to inspect that writing |
closely, and he felt sure had he done this he would

have discovered the fraud, for he was a’ man who

 

He had
been led into this miserable situation by some one

But it was too late now; he was trapped.

who knew a great deal about Penrose Whittaker, and ie
who must haye been aware that Whittaker had left |
the Century Hotel that evening to keep an engage- | is
ment in another part of Belvidere. |

But why had he been decoyed and trapped? Who.
Belvidere would lend himself to ‘such dastardly,
Ww lie | i ik ie i
Who but Gus McManners! | : of fe |
Frank’s lip’ moved. He spoke a bit thickly, yet a
with distinctness that could not be misunderstood. | :
“You're working hard for the privilege of serving nk
he said. 401

The third figure in the background slunk still

a.term in the penitentiary, McManners,”

farther into ane shadows as these words were spoken.
Merry believed the skulker to be the treacherous mes-
Plainly the fellow
was a cowardly creature, who doubtless wished him-

senger who had acted as his guide.

self somewhere else at that moment. TAS
“Bah |”
confronted the Ra:

exclaimed one of. the disguised | men whi i
"You" Baeacee ae Merriws

     
   

 
TiPs tO)

You couldn’t swear that you knew any one of us.
we know you. I know you, blazes take you! but when
I’m through with you your most intimate friends
You're a handsome dog, aren’t

To-

i won't recognize you.
you? You're proud of your beauty, I suppose.
morrow you won't be so proud of it.”

Bs As he spoke he took from a pocket a huge, wicked-

) looking clasp knife and opened the biggest blade.

The other man put out a hand and grasped his

 

ee

df companion’s arm.

Pits

“What are you going to do?’ he whispered
hoarsely.
him ?”

“Oh, no, ’m not going to stick it into him, but

“You're not going to stick that knife into

ge
———

I’m going to use it to cut a few crosses and geometri-
cal figures upon his handsome mug. I'll slash him up
so that the cleverest doctor in the country can’t pre-

° ° \ 4
vent him from wearing the scars as long as he lives.”

 

“What if he raises an outcry?”
The words were whispered in a most guarded man-

 

ner, yet Merry heard them.

And then, as Frank was on the point of lifting his
voice, those two ruffians suddenly flung themselves
He did start to
calloused fingers gripped his throat and choked off

once more upon him. shout, but hard,
the cry. “His mouth was pried open and a gag forced
__, between hig jaws.and tied there.

“There,”

aS leader,’ picking up the wicked-looking knife he had

said the wretch who seemed to be the

| dropped, “that will keep him fairly quiet. If he tries
to howl he won’t be able to make any sounds that
could be heard on the street. Even if cries were heard
sf coming from this place it is doubtful if any one would
_ venture to investigate, for the old house is said to be
“hawnted, you know. That’s why it was closed. That’s

why no one cared to reopen it. Everybody in Belvi-

  

and wailing cries connected with this old ranch.”

as “Well, I don’t care to linger round here any longer
than is necessary. Go ahead wif your branding and
then let’s beat it.”

ae F rank’s eyes were busy, although his tongue had
been silenced. He looked at the hands of the man who
held the wicked knife.

  

They were calloused and soiled

  

But

dere had heard the stories about murder and spooks

_ insufficient to show Frank his enemies, and he groped.

        
 
   
  
  
   
   
   
  
  
  
  
   
     
     
       
 
        
     
           
       
      
      
     
     
       
    
         
       
      
     
       

WEEKLY. 19
and begrimed; they were the hands of a man who
was accustomed to working over machinery, and
Frank had no doubt that the man was Gus McMan-
ners.

“All right,”
and see me decorate this handsome gent with a few

said McManners, “just you keep watch
frescos.”

He bent over heey, holding the knife ready to
slash and cut across Frank’s temple.

Summoning every atom of strength and will power,
the captive made a sudden ‘tremendous effort to burst
the bonds which held him.
down the pillars‘of the temple, he prayed for strength.

And, like Samson pulling

The cords gave, snapped, fell away. He leaped up,
free and terrible. There was a look in his eyes which
struck benumbing fear to the hearts of the astounded
ruffians.

With pieces of the cord still dangling from his
wrists and arms, Frank seized the chair on which he
had sat and swung it round his head. Had he not —
forgotten in that moment that the ceiling was very
low, his first blow must have smashed the skull of
the dazed and cowering brute at which it was aimed; _
but the chair legs swept the ceiling, and the chair was.

thus deflected somewhat. Nevertheless, the man was

 

knocked down as a single pin upon a bowling alley
is sent spinning by the ball that meets it squarely. ©

McManners himself, with the-knife still in his hand,
had leaped backward.

 

It was that wretch Merry.
‘wished to reach—panted, palpitated, yearned to teach.

Again the chair swung through the air, Frank fol- —
One of the chair legs —
caught | the bracket which held the kerosene lamp sus-_

lowing the retreating ruffian.

pended, and the lamp was torn down with a crash.
The room was plunged into momentary darkness.

4. Merry had seemed to see the cowering wretch in
the background fumbling frantically in an effort to
a door. Even as the lamp was ripped down that
door had been flung wide and the frightened —
had fled through it. )
Amid the wreck of the lamp the wick spluttered and
burned dimly.

open a

The light it gave, however, was wholly

He sought to cut off their retreat —

 

for them blindly.
 

hor FOP

by the way of that door, but in swinging the chair
round his head he had likewise turned himself half-
way round, and he rushed in the wrong direction.

feet clattered

Behind his back he heard a rustling;

and a door slammed. He knew then that hé had made
a miscalculation, and he wheeled back to remedy his

error as far as possible.

At this juncture the still burning wick of the lamp
caught in the oil which had been scattered over the
floor. The flames spread swiftly over a broad space,
and their light illuminated the entire room.

To Merriwell’s wonderment, he saw. that he was
alone in that room. Even the man he had struck down
with the chair had risen and escaped. —

“But they shall not get away!’ panted Frank, as

he leaped over a patch of burning oil and dashed to

i? the door) . wee

That door was bolted. It resisted his efforts to
tear it open, and suddenly he realized that he was still

a prisoner in that room, which was rapidly filling with

ote blinding, choking cloud of smoke, while the flames,

catching’ the woodwork, spread with a crackling sound
that was like the chuckling laughter of a fiery demon.

_ CHAPTER X

THE HAND OF FATE,

Already the smoke and heat were becoming almost |

‘unbearable, and Frank Merriwell knew “what would
happen unless he escaped from that room in a very
few moments. He did not waste time and energy in
yainly struggling to open the door in the usual manner,

Instead of that, he backed away until the spreading

fire almost lapped his heels and made a rush at’ the .
door, against which he flung his weight, shoulder first,

with all the battering-ram force che could command.

The door was burst open with a crashing ‘sound,
ph Frank staggered through it, ed by a Tenn
cloud of yellowish smoke. ee é

‘The light of the fire shone luridly Asana that

moke cloud. It was sufficient, however, to show
im a. corridor, at the far end of which, dimly. seen,
a Bight « of A A He knew he was in a Sort of

WEEKLY.

cellar or basement, and in a twinkling he was bound-
ing

All

their frightened flight,

up those stairs.

doors were open to him now. Evidently, in
the three scoundrels had made
every possible effort to get out of the building with
the greatest haste after having bolted the door which
A breath of

It led him:to a rear door

shut Merriwell into the burning room.
cool air swept his face.
which stood ajar, and almost before he realized it he”
was in the open air at the rear of the dark, gloomy
old buildings to which he had been lured and in which
he had so nearly perished.

As he hesitated there a moment a yellowish glow
flickered up behind him, and he knew the fire was |
spreading through all the lower* part of that building.

Bitterly disappointed over the success of the ruf-_ |

fians in eluding him, he found a gate which let him

out through a rear yard upon a back street.

From another street near at hand rosé a sudden

shout of alarm.
“Rire!” Fire!’
Some one passing the old building bad caught the
gleam of the spreading flames.
decided Frank, “I ‘may ee
I don’t feel

“If I hang around here,”
be called on to answer some questions.
like doing that.” i ccaune

With hasty steps he moved away, turning the first
street corner and swiftly placing considerable distance — i
between himself and the building in which.he had been
trapped. His sense of direction led him toward the |
Century Hotel, but long ere he reached it he heard —
the clanging gong of a fire truck that rumbled through

a distant street, followed by the warning ‘screams

of a fire engine on its way to answer the alarm, :

The main street of Belvidere was swarming eh

wlite, for trains and motor cars were bringings in hosts

Frank was
swallowed in the throng and soon. found himself at

of people eager to witness the great race.

his hotel. Without attracting. any particular atten

tion, he enter and reached his room.

he muttered, as he sank limp and exhausted upon

each .

 

 

 
 

 

AIP TOP

Sitting there, ‘he suddenly became conscious of

_~ something which he held gripped in his hand.

It was a handkerchief—the one which had been
twisted and knotted about his head to hold the choking
gag in his mouth. Not until he had burst the door
of that room, which had seemed like a deadly fire trap,
‘had Merry torn the gag from his jaws.

“Well, this may bé a valuable piece of evidence

against those dastardly scoundrels,’ he muttered, as

he untwisted the handkerchief and spread it out upon
his knee.

Carefully -he examined the handkerchief, looking

. for initials or a monogram which might serve to prove

who was the owner. There was no mark upon it, but

7 it was soiled and bore traces of lubricating oily |
| “The handkerchief of a man who works around
e. machinery or automobiles,”
“Pll keep it. Perhaps I ought to call up the police
_ and ask for the arrest of McManners. Shall 1?

He meditated some minutes upon this point, finally

was Merry’s decision.

_ deciding that the evidence against McManners could
True the “third degree”
administered by the police might ‘force a confession

not prove very conclusive,

from the lips of the mechanician should he be ar

; “But T'll get him foul and do the work myself, t
“Tt will not be the first
The chances are more

Merriwell finally decided.
time [ve turned detective.
than even that McManners and his accomplices will
fancy I finally perished in that burning building. I
was shut up in there and left to roast. As true as
y name is Frank Merriwell, I'll never be satisfied
intil those dastardly dogs get their just deserts. *
When Frank Merriwell said a thing like that he
meant it.

tsue, he finally undressed and turned in for the

Yet, having decided on the course he would

For once he found hinibelé unable to secure the re-
shing sleep he courted. It is true he did sleep,
t his slumbers were fitful and ‘broken. At times
_ awoke, oe a shea of locomotives at-

 

WEEKLY.

etest at the race, saying he had secured “parking
ground” upon the same hill from which they had timed
Oldring that day. Merry had protésted that he did
not wish to make Whittaker so much trouble, but the
big man had laughed at ‘hose protests and had as-
serted that it was all settled.

When

he awoke it was broad daylight, and he sprang out

Toward morning Frank slept more soundly.

of bed instantly, one glance at his watch revealing the
fact that he had slept much later than he had intended.

A cold plunge and a rub left him feeling fresh and
He

donned motoring clothes, wondering if he would have

invigorated, in spite of the unsatisfactory night.

time for a bite of breakfast before Whittaker was
ready to start for the course. Once or twice he
glanced frdm his window into the street and saw that
the tide of humanity was flowing almost wholly in
one direction, which led out toward the track. Doubt-
less thousands of spectators were out there already,
waiting for the race to. begin. Doubtless a vast num-
ber of these people had spent the whole or a part of.
the night in such favorable positions as they could ob-
tain near the course.
Merry had. time to eat two soft boiled eggs and a
corn roll, and then a boy came through the dining
room calling his name.
, said Frank, “what is it?”

“Mr. Whittaker is waiting for you at the door, sir.

“Here, boy,”

3

You were not in your room, and

Frank had called for the check at the time his order
was served, and now he rose, dropping the amount
of the check and a tip upon the daple and followed the
boy. aa

“Well, welll C “rumbled ane Whittaker, as his |
eyes discovered Frank approaching. “Where have ;
you been hiding, Merriwell? , Thought. you'd gone.

; Ive been busy this morning: and just got around to

call for ‘you. Fancied you oe have. got a idea
that T had gone without you.” —

“Overslept,”” said. Merry. “Just mee time to ewallos
a bit of breakfast. a : Pea a :

‘We’ re; going in Thome’s car again,
Ww hittaker, nade propos it. Here Phe is:’

" announced

 
iby ae

the tonneau of the waiting car. He smiled upon Frank
in a really affable manner.

Whittaker spoke to the chauffeur as he lifted him-
self ponderously into the car.

“Put us down to Prosper as fast as you can,’ he
directed. “The course is closed,
take the old road.”

_ They were moving in another moment. The driver

and you'll have to
i

‘

quickly squirmed out of the throng upon the main
street and went.cutting around corners at a speed that
was an invitation to skidding. With each sharp turn
the electric horn of the car shrieked a warning.
“Talked with Oldring a moment over the wire,” said
Whittaker.

Still, I’want to speak with him face to face

“He assures me that everything is all
right.
McDonald and Gibson of our com-
McDonald was

before the start.
pany are both down there with him:
one of the men who stood guard over the car all night
last night. He never batted an eye once.”
“Are you as confident of success this morning as
you were yesterday ?” inquired Frank.

“More so. Why, I’ve even got Thorne swinging
round.”
” shrilled the little
Your
belief in your car has prevented me from betting on
the Flashwell.

wager my money that the Flashwell would win.

“T want to see you win, Penrose,
man. “I’d give considerable to see you win.
Yesterday morning I was ready to
You
know how I stood. I said everything I could to take
- the cocksureness out of you, Penrose, but all the while
I was hopeful that you might win.”

Frank Merriwell’s feelings ey Hopkins Thorne
underwent an alteration. He’ dé&cided now that the

a little man, skeptical of the honesty of mankind though

_ he might be, possibly was not such a bad fellow after ~
ee all, i od i }

ee

“Oh, by the way,” said Whittaker suddenly, “TI
e heard this morning that you had the pleasure of
knocking Gus McManners down ‘last agian Merri-
LD os 2
. Yes,”
_ fellow in self-defense.”
aes I’m glad of it.”

said Pknk, “T was compelled to hit , the

WEEKLY.

“Later,” said Merry, “I had another adventure of

a nature decidedly more thrilling.”

Then he briefly told his two companions how he
had been decoyed and what had happened in the old
house. Thorne became greatly excited over the story.

“The old Sherman House burned flat,’ he said.
"it's
were mighty glad she burned.”
and Mars!”

“Who forged my handwriting?

been a hoodoo to the owners. I'll guarantee they

bellowed Whittaker.
You'll have to show

“But thunder

The scoundrel shall
I

would never know to look at you that you came near = —

me that document, Merriwell.
be punished. By Jove, boy, you’re a cool one!
seeing your finish last night.”

They ‘were out upon the old road to Prosper now,
and the driver was covering ground at a breathless
rate. Such speed made,conversation an effort, and
finally they relapsed into silence.

In due time they came swinging round toward the
little settlement and the garages. Here there were
turnouts and motor cars and people on foot, and they:
were forced to pick their way along with a certain

amount of precaution.

the garages, waiting and watching to see the racers = |

come forth.
“There comes the Bel for d-Marcy,”’
the car was seen to swing down onto the course some —

distance away.

Suddenly Frank rose to his feet, uttering an CRE

clamation.” His arm was outflung, and his finger
pointed at a man ‘in the crowd who turned at that ery _
and saw him. zs |

That man was Gus McManners.

The mechanician’ s jaw drdapedl His face uepede |
ghastly, and an expression of terror leaped into his —
eyes, : Joe |
Doubtless

up to this moment McManners had believed the bones _

Frank knew the cause of this change.

of Frank Merriwell would eventually be found in the |

ruins of the ae SI lerman ae

 

 

CroWds were gathered about

cried Thorne, as
 

ak re,
bered thirteen, came along. The big racer struck Mc-
Manners, mowed him down and passed over him.
The spectators shrieked with horror. The racer
left the man lying limp and still upon the oiled road-
bed.
A doctor was among the first who reached Mc-
One

skull, and then he

look he took at the man’s crushed

said:
“He can’t live ten minutes.”

Manners.

CHAPTER X

; FRANK AS MECHANICIAN,

_ Frank shuddered as the dying man was lifted and

:

carried off the track.

_ “Poor devil!” he muttered. “Retribution overtook
him suddenly.”

Hopkins Thorne was pale as a ghost.
_ “Get away from here, Murphy! he cried to the

driver. “A killing before the race begins—that’s

frightful! What fools the Belford- as people were
to let them put that number on their car.”
“We came within one of drawing that number for

said Whittaker.

“I should think such an accident would take the

the Aj Jax,” “We got twelve.”

39

erve out of a driver,

en door they could see Oldring and several ‘other
len in the vicinity of the big racer, which stood

in the concern came out to greet him, Then man

on beaming apy, ae this expression upon his

said Thorney his voice shak- |

WEEKLY. 23

his forehead, was just accepting a dipper of water

from the hand of Luke Deeping, who ‘was likewise
dressed for the race.
Merry

jostle Oldring’s elbow, spilling nearly all of the water.

stepped forward hastily and managed to
“IT beg your pardon,” cried Frank.

Oldring had looked round with a frown, but his
face relaxed when he saw who it was.

“Oh, neyer mind, » he said, tossing off the remain-
ing water in the dipper. “It’s all right,-old son. I
just wanted to wet my throat, that was all.”

“Terribly bungling of me,” said Merry, as if greatly
mortified,

Then, drawing a soiled -handkerchief from his pocket
and concealing it in the palm of his hand, he stooped
and pretended to pick it up from | ;directly between
Deeping’s feet. e

“Is this your handkerchief?” he asked, holding it
up in front of Deeping, who stood there like aiian
of stone, apparently dumb and devoid of will power.

The mechanician’s face was pale, and the guilt in
his manner tempted Merriwell to seize him by the
throat then and there and denounce him. For in that
moment Frank had become satisfied that the masked
companion of Gus McManners upon the previous night
had been Deeping himself. a

The smechanician caught | uis breath with a hissing

sound, Seething to pull himself together with a-

mighty effort, he answered, his voice choking a little: Ze

“Nun-no, that’s not my handkerchief.”
7

“py i keep it.
Unfortunate

“T thought it might be,” said Merry.
Perhaps T'll be able to find the owner.
accident happened jyst now, Oldring.”
“T saw the crowd packing onto the track, an “said the ae
driver. “What was the accident?” _ es
“Man killed.” : a
| “Killed ? You don’t say so! How did it Deepen ae
‘CT he Belford: “Marcy ran him down.” | %
“Who was it, dne of the spectators} p
“Tt was Gus McManners.”

Oldring uttered an exclamation,

while Despiis

caught his breath once more, trembling i in every: limb.

oN pe Gee? re he ated, “Killed, did you

 
    
  
 
  
  
  
  
    
      
  
 
 
  
  
 
 

 

 

 

 

X

in the fire.

- find him quick, r

24 TIP eee?

Frank nodded.

“Practically killed instantly. He was breathing
when they picked him up, but his head was crushed
and he was unconscious.”

hk
understand he proceeded to fill up as'soon as I dis-
charged him last night. I am sorry for the poor
fellow.” oo

“He must have been drunk,’ said Oldring. |

“So am I,” said Frank, ‘“‘for I can’t help feeling that
he died wholly unprepared.
take nerve for a man to go into one of these races

unless he was fully prepared for anything.”

I should think it would

His head

became dizzy, and, mumbling some sort of an excuse,

Deeping experienced a choking sensation.

he moved away into another part of the garage.
“Gus killed!’ he whispered to himself. “Great
heavens!’ What if I should be killed to-day!

f .
certainly not prepared to die, and a man never knows

I’m

what will happen when he goes into a race like this.
I saw it in his eyes. Still,
I was a fool

Merriwell suspects me.
he hasn’t proof enough to accuse me.
to let McManners lead me into that crazy business
last night—a fool. Mac was sure Merriwell roasted
He was mistaken. The’ fellow escaped.”
*“Oldring,” Frank askéd in a low tone, “do you

know anything about the movements of your mech-

-anician, Deeping, last night? Can you tell me if he

remained here in Prosper ?”’ sy

“He went over into town on some sort of an er-
rand,” answered the Ajax driver.
what he went after—didn’t pay any attention to his
Why ?”

“Never mind now,”

“T don’t know

excuse.
said Merry, “I'll tell you later.”

But when Oldring was ready to leave the garage

with the Ajax, Deeping had disappeared.

“Where is the fellow?” cried the driver angrily.
“He ought to be on hand, Find him, somebody, and

Jf

But they searched for Luke Deeping in vain. He

- was not to be found, and Oldring fretted as the min-
utes slipped by. /

4 EN

“Tl have to take Cc rsh or Jad <son, a suppose, P

he muttered.

 

‘in it a delightful tingling sensation of elation and joy

 

WEEKLY. 1
ws 2

A sudden thought leaped electrically into Frank
Merriwell’s brain. re

“Take me, Oldring,”’ he urged.

“You ?” :

* ves, | i.

“You can’t be in.earnest, Merriwell. You know a
there’s danger.” CaS

“Yes, I know it, but I am in earnest. - Take me,
will you? I think I am mechanician enough to fill
Deeping’s place.”

“And you're lucky—you were lucky,”
breathed Oldring. “You've been a winner at every-
thing. It may seem oe of me, but I’ll take you =|
if Mr. Whittaker agrees.’ i

Whittaker was even more surprised than the driv eo
by Merry’s proposal. ° in

“It’s up to you, Oldring, my boy,”

“Go on, Merriwell,” cried Oldring.

“Give me a leather coat,” said Frank;
I ask.”

He tore off his long automobile coat and flung ies
aside. One of the men was holding a leather. coat
ready /for him. He was into it in a moment.

Then the Ajax, spitting fire, rolled out of the yarage
with Merriwell at Mat Oldring’s side,

 

 

 

always

 

he said.

 

 

“that’s all

   

 

   

 

        
     
       
 
   
   
    

CHAPTER XII.

    
     
    
        
     
     
      

THE RACE. a
Bang! ae , Et
The starter’s pistol spoke. An instant later, witha 9 4
thunderous. roar, the Ajax leaped away. The people — :
in the stand near the starting point uttered:a wild sa
cheer that was taken up by the crowd which lined
both sides of the course. Me r
To. Frank Merriwell the race was much like a wild” 4
dream. He felt his heart beating high as Oldring 7

       

opened the Ajax up.and worked it swiftly into racing
speed, The wind rose to a hurricane and whistled past
Merry’s ears, . The brown track spun beneath the car
like a long, curving ribbon. On either hand were.
lines of shouting spectators, their faces and their fig- —
ures in a blur, Houses, trees, a bridge—these objects —
seemed to fly past them in a backward direction. me

During the first few moments Merry experienced
something like a slight thrill of fear, but there was

      
       
      
    
    
     
     
 
 

  

They seemed to be flying, At times the wheels of
the car apparently touched "he roadbed for a mome
and then the flying sensation was resunfed.

   
 
 
   

   
   
 

a

- the course ?

the road.
brook up in the second lap.
at a curve.

Ing.
eagerness to overtake that car—to passuit.

TIP TOP WEEKLY. 25

They approached a curve. Oldring uttered a cry,

and Merry leaned far out to let his weight aid in
maintaining the equelibrium it shot
round that bend at appalling speed.
- What was. this immense grand stand
packed with people? Were there two such stands upon
Merry wondered a bit, and then,
astounded, realized thdt they had actually circled the
entire course once. Intently watching the road, he
had failed to note when they passed Prosper and the
garages.

“Great Cesar!’ Frank mentally exclaimed. ‘We
were not twenty-five minutes making that lap: It

of the car as

another

didn’t seem five.”

«

In truth, the first lap had been made in twenty-
seven minutes and eleven seconds; ‘but to the novice

on the seat of the mechanician the time had flown

even faster than the racer was speeding. Oldring
knew; occasionally his eye sought the clock. Frank
thus far had forgotten there was a clock to look at:

What was that? They tore by something beside
It was a car, with some men working like
fiends to change a tire. A puncture had held the Hol-
Hard luck!

Looking ahead, Frank saw a-cloud of dust flung up
He wondered what it meant. Then they
rounded that curve, and he realized that the dust'was
raised by another machine, on which they were gain-
In a twinkling he was athrob with a palpitant
The racing
blood in him was leaping. madly in his veins. Never-
theless, a certain calmness had come to him at last,
and he sat there clinging fast like a veteran to whom

such an experience was no novelty.

Nearer and nearer they crept to the car in advance.
T hey were close upon it as another curve was reached,
and here the leading car swerved far out, forcing Old-

; ting to hold back the least bit for fear of a collision.

The curve passed, the car ahead seemed creeping
away again. Its driver was turning on every, pos-
sible bit of speed,

- Oldring’s lips peeled back from his teeth in some-

hing like a grin. Gently he advanced the.spark, work-

ing the Ajax into its best form so deftly that she ac-
palerated without a single jump or throb.

And then the car ahead was cut down caps ion
si passed on a clean, straightaway course. ’
“Go it, Oldring!’ Merry eee cried.'

me of them, but there are others.”

| e lost all record of the ia they had saan

““That’s

All

{ .

that course at a speed which snatched the breath from
his lips. Doubtless the watching thousands cheered,
but the roar of the car’s exhaust drowned their voices
of Frank Merriwell.

Suddenly Merriwell yelled warningly. There was
a crowd on the track. It seemed as if they must dash
into that mass.of people and fling human beings right
and left before them,

to the ears

The crowd scattered and tried to escape. Merry
felt Oldring give the car a swerve to the right, an-
other to the left, and with each turn the driver
escaped running down a man purely by his marvelous
nerve and command. of himself and that bellowing
racer. ;

Something else Merry saw. It was only a glimpse
as they flew by, but it was enough. Men were lifting
and carrying a limp human figure away from the
track. At one side, near by, a racing car lay wrecked
where it had turned turtle in making the curve.

“Belford-Marcy !”

Did Frank hear Oldring shout cout: name, or did he
imagine he heard him?

At any rate, he knew the ruined car was the one
that had borne that hoodoo number thirteen}—the one |
that had run down and killed Gus McManners. ;

On and still on. To Merry it seemed now as if
they were destined to fly over that road to the end of
time, They passed another car—and yet another.
At last Oldring had the Ajax working at its best and
was threatening to take first position without a single
hold-up, when, of a sudden, Merriwell realized that
something had happened. The car swerved a bit; it
ran hard. The sensation of flying was lost. Then
Frank knew they were stopping.

“What’s the matter?” he shouted in dismay.
“What’s happened, Oldring—for the love of mercy,
what’s Rape

‘“Flat tire,” answered Oldring, as he stopped be-
side the track.

In a flash they were off and at that tire. It was
ripped from the wheel in a twinkling. Another took
its place. Only twice did Oldring speak a word of
instruction to Merry, for Frank did his part with the
skill of one who had been called to take a hand in
such a task thotisands of times. .

They were in their seats again. Two men had
shouted at them, and they both heard ‘the won of
those men. | :

“Flashwell is the only car ahead of us now,”
snarled Oldring, as he sak in the clutch and opened —
the throttle. penn wet ie

 
TIP. TOP

For all the delay in changing tires, they had but
one rival to contend with, Flashwell.
Other cars had had their troubles.
had escaped marvelously well.
ing as perfectly now as it had at the start.

“We'll win!’ cried Merry. ‘We'll beat the Flash-
well yet!’

He knew at last that Oldring was driving the Ajax
on the straightaways for every bit of speed he could
get out of the car. . Frank’s eyes sought the hand of
the speedometer. He could scarcely breathe, and the
wind was shrieking past his ears in a gale. But he
saw that hand standing almost perfectly steady for a
time at a point on the dial which made him gasp. They
were eating up space at the rate of almost RNa!
miles an hour.

It was almost impossible ‘to hat that speed on the
turns, even though those turns were easy.

Frank saw something else that astonished him.

the marvelous
Indeed, the Ajax

The engine was work-

_ They had made more than two hundred miles. It
_ seemed incredible. . Less than fifty miles more were
to be covered—and the Flashwell was in the lead.
But Oldring was now taking the turns in a man-
ner: which seemed a direct defiance to death. At any
one of these curves a little accident, the sudden blow-
fe ing: out of a tire, almost anything of) that nature,
would send them shooting from the track with the
chances of escaping alive a thousand to one against
them. ghia as .
_ Again they were creeping up ona car.
told Merriwell that car was the Flashwell.
Softsweep Cutve was just ahead, and the car in
advance slowed up almost imperceptibly to swing
round that bend in the course.
Ps eat Oldring did not slacken speed by so anil as a
“hair: Still with the spark high and the Ajax, scarcely

seeming to totch the ground, he took that curve in|

a manner that set: every spectator oy, with admira-
tion of the dare-devil feat. }

_» Desbrow of the Flashwell was. caught off net
Bette he realized it the Ajax was passing him—had
- passed and was leading. ,
Then Jit became a maddening race heiwien those
two cars; and, making better than a mile a minute,
the Ajax, was holding her lead in the last lap, when
- Oldring sudd jlenly slid from the driving seat, .
. Frank had detected something wrong in the ee 's
ee He. shouted! at Oldring, but received 1
answer. This he did a moment before the man slid
‘rom. aS seat. ‘When this occurred the var veered a
but ‘Frank seized the oN wheel Tike: a flash

1 got dizzy and——
Something

broad one, of what it is about—

WEEKLY.

and held it steady. He knew the course lay strai¢ht —
to the grand stand and the finish line. He knew the
Flashwell was at his heels ready to shoot past should
he hold up the least hair.

And so, holding Oldring with his feet, he did what
seemed to be In that strained posi-
and let the Ajax do its

the impossible.
tion he held the wheel steady
best with the spark high.

The great throng which packed the grand stand
and crowded both sides of the track saw a spectacle
that could never be forgotten. Two cars were rush-—
ing toward the finishing line like mettlesome race
horses, but the leading car was driven by the mechani-
cian, leaning sidewise to grip the wheel, all the while
holding his unconscious companion securely between:
his feet.

Thus the Ajax roared over
ner, ead

Merry pulled down the spark, shut off the throttle,
and found the brakes. Behind him the howling crowd
Was swarming’ onto the course. Gradually Frank
brought the car to a full stop.

Oldring stirred.

“What—what’s matter?” he muttered thickly. as

Frank gripped him by the collar and lifted him to z,
the seat. The man filled his lungs with a great breath
and held on with both hands, sitting up linrply. a

“What happened?” he asked. “I—I doriltintt: see,
Good heavens! did we lose,
Merriwell—did_ we lose?” fs; eee a

“No, we won,”’ said Frank, as shouting swarms oe
men surrounded them, “But we would have lost if
you had drunk the whole of the water in that dipper
handed you by Luke Deeping, I am certain you were |

drugged, Oldring. It was the enemy’s Ke card, but |
it didn’t win the game.”

the finish line, a win-

})

it eee ae. ‘END.

Next week you will have a story that puts to the ‘
bad such adventure tales as have had to do with 1 buriec |

It looks like a record-breaker for Burt” Ley
‘The title gives you only a hint, though. a
ve rank Merriwell’s

wealth.
Standish.

Treasure Map;
yor II rie it eed the kind of thee y you love tor

fat taekioy certain coluntea sit up, Ce it’s sate to
that you'll be astonished, too. With Merty, it’:

one amazing thing after another. until | the

which is most aenny of all, Out next week

 

 
EE aera ae ce

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WHAT BOYS.OUGHT TO KNOW.

A philosopher has said that true education for boys is to
“teach them what they ought to know when they become men.”

What is it they ought to know, then?

1. To be true—to be genuine. No education‘is worth anything
that does not include this. A man had better not know how to
read; he had better never learn a letter in the alphabet, and be
true and genuine in intention and action, rather than being
learned in all sciences and languages, to be at the same time
false in heart and counterfeit in life. Above all things, teach the
boys that truth is more than riches—more than any. earthly
_culture—more than’ any earthly power or position.

_ 2. To be pure in thought, language, and life—pure in mind
and body. An impure man, young or old, poisoning the society

where he moves with vile stories and impure examples, is a
moral leper—a plague spot, who ought to be treated as were
e the lepers of old, who were banished from society, and com-
“pelled to cry “unclean,”
pestilence.

3. To be unselfish. To care for the feelings and comforts of
others. To be generous, noble, and manly. This will include a
general reverence for the aged, and for things sacred.  —

4. To be self-reliant and self-helpful, even from early child-
hood. To be industrious always; and self-supporting in the
earliest proper age. Teach them that all honest work is hon-
orable, and that an idle, useless life of nr ee on others is

he has reat most of a most important things he! ‘otabr to
EHOW: pone he becomes a man. With these four proneny. mas-

a ‘WILD BEASTS-IN ae. YORK CITY.

It. is a remarkable fact that ehene are always more wild ani-

“Life in America. For example, there are ibis twenty
iles of New York City fully fifty different kinds—not counting

Ww York there are at least a anon species of wilde beasts,
f of. which are quite common.

as a warning to save others from the |

vy rere

A Short Story by Your Favorite Author.

PEPITA.

By BURT L. STANDISH.

T was nightfall when I reached Cuchillo, and though Pablo
Lorreto—“Black Pablo”—had left a hot trail, I had not yet
overtaken him, and I was on Mexican soil, far south of the
Rio Grande.

Three years before Black Pablo had killed my dearest
friend—murdered him in cold blood in Santa Fé. Then, though
the Mexican cutthroat escaped, I swore to hunt him down and
avenge my friend some time.

At Haskell, on the Texas side, I had struck his trail by acci-
dent three years after the crime. I had followed him like a
hound, with the scent growing hotter and hotter.

But now I felt that my hope was a small one, for, Black Pablo
was on his own familiar territory and, bandit though he was,
he could whistle a hundred men to his support in no time.

It would be madness to follow Pablo farther, and so I deter-
mined to stop at Cuchillo for the night and turn back in the
morning.

My time would come. Pablo would cross the Rio. Grande
again, and then——

Well, I would be waiting for him.

So I stopped at Cuchillo.

I had my horse cared for, and I ate a square meal myself.

Then I went out in search of amusement.

I found it. \

A fandango was taking place in the town, and the lights and
music lured me thither. Mingled with the music I could hear the
laughter of merry sefioritas, and I soon found my way to the
floor.

It was such a throng as may be seen only at a Mexican dance.

3right colors and dusky faces were everywhere. Dark eyes
smiled to dark eyes, and mustached lips whispered flattery to
te cars of the gathered belles. .

I had resolved not to take any part in the dance, for I be-
lieved it safer to hold aloof; but I soon attracted attention, and,
though I may have been frowned on by many a gallant, I soon
found myself smiled at by a score of bewitching sefioritas.

The music, the witchery of those alluring smiles, one or the~
other, or both, overcame my: resolution, and I soon found myself
in the midst of the dance.

My partner’ was the prettiest sind most witching of them all.

nig flesh was almost fair, while her eyes were dark as blackest

t. When her lips—red, and curved like Cupid’s -bow—parted,

_tw6 rows of perfect teeth were shown.

My Spanish wads crude, and she knew spakiely a word of
English; but, for all that, we managed to understand each other
very well, The touch of hands, a gesture, a smile, a frown—
all were easily interpreted.

I found her charming, and she seemed more than interested ;
in me.

We danced together again and again.

Other girls envied her, and I found at length that the frowns
of the men were growing blacker and blacker.

Yet I was loath to give her up.

We sat together in a duskish corner and talked. Her -hand
was in mine, and I felt in my heart a sensation no woman has
ever aroused since. Pe

She told me her name was Pepita. "

“Pepita_ what! ?” I asked.

“Lorreto.” ay

T started. J Ae

“Lorreto! Is Pablo Lorreto any relation to you?”

“He is my brother.”

And Pablo Lorreto was the man I had sworn to diay

For a few moments my situation was robbed of a great deal —
of its pleasure; bat I took good care not to betray anes to.
Pepita. <

She asked my name, and I told her it, was Roy. Pes adhe

Then we danced again. oy

In the midst of the dance a: sudden cry rang through ( the

/troom. .
I looked toward the aden and there 1 saw Black Pablo

 
y ward the north «

AIP) TOP

‘At his back were a dozen of his followers.

His eyes were fastened full upon me, and a look of hatred and
triumph burned in their depths,

1 was trapped.

The music had stopped—the dancing had stopped.
were on the man at the door.

“Black Pablo—Black Pablo!” was the cry.

“My brother!” exclaimed Pepita, in astonishment.

The Mexican drew a weapon and strode straight toward me.

“Ha, dog of an American, I have you!” he shouted. “You
follow me—I keel you!”

Up came his hand, and it held a revolver.

With a shriek Pepita flung herself in front of me.

Quick as possible I snatched out a revolver and fired several
times, shooting out the lights and plunging the place into dark-
ness.

‘Dis way, sefior !”

Pepita’s voice whispered in my ear.

Her hand guided me.

Trusting her, I followed, and she led me swiftly through
the confused throng out to the open air by the way of a window.

“Fly!” she whispered; “fly, sefior, fly ! My brother will kill
you.if he finds you!”

I understood her words, though they were spokett: 4 in Spanish.

Still I lingered. Her hand was in mine, and I could see her
face upturned to me.

“Why have you done this for your brother’s enemy?” I asked
as well as I could. ‘‘We are deadly foes, and one will kill the
other some day. Why did you save me from him?”
| She leaned close to my breast, and then I heard her reply,
soft as the murmur of a brook:

“T love you!”

I could not resist the impulse. I caught her in my arms, and
I kissed her lips there in the darkness.

Then I felt her break away, heard her whisper wildly :

_ “Go, go; they come! Adios!’

_ “Some day, perhaps, I will come back, Pepita! little sweet-
heart. t
_. She pushed me from’ her, even while: hee hands seemed yet to
cling to me, and I fled to where I had left my horse.
LT was soon mdunted and flying through the night, headed to-
nd the Rio Grande, beyond which lay Texan

All

soil and safety.

-T heard the hoofbeats of my pursusrs) and I knew it was a.

race for life.

Still I dreamed of Pepita:
Should I ever ste her again?

All the long night I rode on as fast as my jaded hotse could
- carry me, and at dawn I was passing oe the natrow Tass
: known as El Prescado.

At its narrowest point I came face to bith with a man who

sat astride a horse, oe for me ‘there, a rifle in his hands.

It was Black Pablo!

“Hal ha!” he cried. “I knew you would come this ‘way,
and I had the better horse. I ride fast—leave others—cut you

off: _ Now you are mine!”

He lifted the rifle and fired.

vk fell from the jhorse, but I “did $0 in dodging to avoid his

“bullet.
With a shout of triumph he sparred forward.
_ Then, when he was close upon a, I sat up and shot him
~ through the forehead.
_ Knowin
horse, and*lost no time in continuing the flight; but I s saw no
“more of them, and crossed the river in safety.
That was many years ago.
a: i not®forget Pepita—I could not forget her.
Long a that ake. with my face disguised by a “full beard —
ou tad ‘grown, I went back to Cuchillo and tried to find her, —
Ms quest ‘was vain, for she had disappeared shortly after the
of her Piel and no one seemed to know mint had

went

never ‘met since our parting Nas night at the fan
something tells me we never shall.
now; but still I re-.

Ea ‘We have i
dango, an
etter so, for. she must be much change

cher as the witching, dark-eyed ‘beauty. who found a place | ;
ry High, School, and from. his freshman year has been connec

eart that no woman has ever occupied since.

. — nti

nd when T dream f her, as Lioften do, she is still yo oun ; .
th 1, still my i phi A) ee ne A the: ae pate, Pi Os

little sweetheart,

eyes |

his comrades could not “he far, away, I took bie

‘Perhaps it is

WEEKLY,

fr

A
Gy

Leh

rhookae
ean

Cornell has won the intercollegiate wrestling championship,
defeating Princeton, who finished second, by the score of 11 to 7.
Pennsylvania and Columbia, the other two entries in the meet,
were tied for third place, with five points each.

pas Class:—Johnson, of Cornell, received the decision
over Brady, of Columbia, in fifteen minutes. ee

125-pound Class—Ward, of Princeton, received the decision
over Phillips, of Cornell, in fifteen minutes. F

135-pound Class.—Stewart, of Pennsylvania, threw Swarts, of ©
Columbia, with a bar and chancery in five minutes and thintye
three seconds. Ms

145-pound Class.—Peake, Cornell, threw P Patchell, Pennsylvania, jot
with an arm roll in four minutes nineteen seconds. eat ae

158-pound Class.—Nicholls, Cornell, received the decision over
A. H. Ormond in fifteen minutes. . ; op

175-pound Class.—Garrett, Princeton, threw Graham, Penn-
sylvania, with an arm roll in four minutes forty-two seconds.

Heavyweight Class.—Saunders, Columbia, defeated Goff, Cor-

Set

, nell, in fifteen minutes forty seconds. boat ia a

te

At ee Elm City Park Field, ccainity Yale defeated Pehcliele ;
vania at soccer by a score of 2 to 0. Yale outclassed ‘Pennsyl- | he
vania in offensive and defensive work. The playing was clean,
but rough. Yale made most of the fouls which were called.
Ingham,’ Goddard, and ‘Timm played the best for Yale, while :
Fenn, Graham, and Crockett did good work or Penn. |

Ft

At a meeting of the executive committee of the National .
sociation of Amateur Oarsmen, held in the New York Athle
Clubhouse recently, it was decided to hold the next champit
ship regatta at Washington on July 29 and 30: Saratoga Springs
and Baltimore also put in bids for the regatta, but thete was —
little opposition to the event going to the Potomac River. There
was a full meeting of the committee. In addition to fixing th
place for the aged the usual local Seo were sanctions:

et

At a recent meeting ot the Dacknoitth varsity baskettal
at Hanover, N. H. John A. Mullen, 1911, of Boston, son
Chief John A. Mullen of the Boston Fire Department, was elect
captain for the coming season. Mullen is considered one of the
best players who ever wore the green. His selection was ‘gnani-
mous. The new captain prepared for college at the Sor h

Boston High School. He made the Dartmouth varsity. in hi
freshman year, and has played at back and forward. He ay

member of the Kappa Sigma fraternity.

Ree oo

Meats won the conference basketball championship

year, but had to go some. All depended on the final -

Bartlett Se which the home team won by a -8¢0
18 to 15.

te
John W. apes: ror, of td edtnt Il, has. fac ps
captain | of the Dartmouth cross-country team for the cor
year. He prepared for Dartmouth at the Evanston

with ‘the squad. The ee is a miler and a

ee we ae

 
TIP TOP

TIP TOP READERS

Heiped Him to a Better Mind.

“Tip Top” has helped me to build up a better and stronger
a and has won my high esteem as the best reading for
NatHAN NosLe.
Ceaithes, Cal.

Getting Kis Chums Interested.

“Tip Top” has done me lots of good, and it is teaching me to
discard bad habits and take up good ones. I am very much
interested in your weekly, and am getting my chums to be also.

Lucasville, Ohio. JAMES SNIVELY.

- Stories are All to the Good.

I have got five boys to read “Tip Top” and get them every
week. Your weekly has shown me how to be a man. The
stories are all to the good. Henry FRreNpIN.

Fergus Falls, Minn.

‘Excels in Common Sense.

J have been a reader of “Tip Top” for five years, afi will say
_ that it has more right good common sense in it than some of
_ the best cloth-bound novels. In No. 716 I see some one was
“knocking” Obediah Tubbs. I think Obediah is all right. Burt
_-L, knows his business, and I think most all “Tip.Top” readers
will agree with me there. I would like to hear more from
‘dear old Bruce, for he had such hard luck. I have induced
several to read “Tip Top” since I wrote last. The Medal ‘Li-
__ brary is getting better all the time. Cartes M. BALL.
Arkansas City, Kan. ,

_ Rallied to the “Tip Top” Standard.

It was on a dull and lonesome afternoon that I read my first
“Tip Top,” about a year ago, and I have been reading it ever
since. I have induced five of my friends to read it, and one
of my friends got his whole family to read it. M. Le Fevre.
_ Milwaukee, Wis.

‘Short, but Strong, Testimonial.

I have got, many of my friends to read your evs and am
triving hard to get more. That tells you in a nutshell what I
think of it. Frank S. Dreyer.
i “Erie, Pa.

Made Him Continue at School.

oa have been reading your weekly for quite a while, and am
, a constant reader. Ihave got several other fellows to buy
I thought of leaving gor and going to work, but “Tip
op” made me continue at hool, and I am now getting a good
mark. Cuartes H. ANDREWS.
Y Brooklyn, N. vi

The « New Medal® Stories Fine.

T have just completed my last New Medal. 4 thine they are
fine stories. I have eleven more ordered now. I have not got
so many readers for “Tip Top’ as others ay but I eye: done
the best I could.

oe

ak been a tegular subscriber to “Tip Top” fot three yeats.

d read nearly all of the “Tip Tops” before that, and had |

ead about ten of the Medal Library, a and have been getting the
rest as fast as possible. “Tip Top” is far ahead of all other!
eeklies, oné reason being that.its stories aré so true to life.
ave got four or five boys to read my favorite weekly, and
‘and get many more. When Burt L. Standish describes a
ne one can almost see aaa play or player; it is so

Mites gE. Hirron,

oe is adhd to ‘ik young cand inbdleting to a

le all my friends buy them, and now they are highly
.T would” me to oaks a sae ae she a be.

29

JOIN IN APPLAUSE

Wayward Youth to Happier Paths.
I am positive that Mr. Standish, through the medium of “Tip
Top,” has shaped the destiny of many a wayward youth to'a
better and happier path. The scenes of the Merriwell stories
have been in many parts of the United States and foreign coun-
tries, but not in many years have we been favored with the
presence of our heroes in the Buckeye State or near this fegion.
You can assure them of a royal reception, should they decide to
visit us. Geo. H. LoHner.
Toledo, Ohio.

Another for June Arlington.
I have been reading “Tip Top” for three or four years, and
I like it better than any other weekly I have ever read. I have
about two hundred “Tip Tops” and about fifty Merriwell stories
in the Medal Library. 1 have induced several boys in my
neighborhood to read “Tip Tops” also, I like Dick, and I hope
he will marry June Aflington. We formed a club and called it
“The Tip Top Club,” consisting of ten members. We all read |
“Tip Tops,’ and like them very much.
Richmond, Va.

Stories the Kind He Likes. '

WEEKLY.

Hunter T. ——

I have been a reader of the “Tip Top Weekly” for shhat six -

years, and I think it is the best for boys — During
this time I have read other weeklies, but they have done me —
no good. The reason I like the “Tip Top” is that the stories are —
what I like. After reading them, I always feel better morally.
They seem to make you want to imitate Merriwell and his _
friends, and in this way I think anybody is bound to improve. |
Chicago, Il. Sam GOLDBERG.

Clean Sport in Merriwell Tales.

If there is anything I like it is good, clean sport; and that is.
what the Merriwel!l stories contain. As to furthering the cir- /
culation of “Tip Top,” I;can say that some time ago I loaned
some back numbers, to so e friends, and they were immediately.
‘pleased with the stories. We then started a club of about six-—
teen boys, and each boy contributes five cents a week. Thus
we have bought the current numbers and fifteen back numbers.
The club has already succeeded in buying many of the New
Medal Library books to get the early stories in “Tip Top.”

New York, N. I. A. Rarr.

Broke ie: of Bad Habits.

“Tip Top” certainly has cured my habits. I never had any
bad. abies until I came to the city. They were smoking ciga-

| rettes and staying out late nights. As it happened, I got hold of e :

a “Tip Top,” which my father says was a mighty good thin
i soon saw that if I wanted to be like Frank and Dick Merri-
ee I would Wye to give up my bad habits, which I did, thanks i

0 “Ti ip Top.” RALPH W.G |

Lyn, Mass, :

Now His Father Reads Them. |
T have been reading “Tip Top” for a_year, “and T hoon
is the best) boy’s weekly I’ve found. Father at first said
no good for boys to read; but I got kiko, to read one, pts now
he reads every one I read.
Arroyo Grande, Cal.

Always a Good Word for it, We inciee ° Baal
Do I like “Tip Top”? Does a fish swim? Can a bi

Well, I guess. Hurrah for our old pal, Burt L.! 1 get my

friends to tead “Tip Top,” and I am always ready to say a ¢ Sod

word for my favorite weekly, oe a
Kingman, Kan. by

Ono Number Enough to Win. i hike Pian
IT have been reading “Tip Top” for ‘shout’ iis: years,

have tried to extend its circulation by showing A to my -

and getting them to read it, which is easy, once
one number, I sent one ‘number to a friend not long
urged him to read it, which he did. Now all the boys itt
‘section ate wild for it, and some of the girls, too. :

they hav
haxget

ey about twenty readers for your. weekly. ei;
oe ebb

 
  

 

 

 

 

So many inquiries reach us from week to week concerning the
various manuals on athletic development, which we-publish, that
we have decided to keep a list of them standing here. Any number
can be had by mail by remitting 10 cents, and 3 cents praia, for
each copy, to the publishers.

Frank Merriwell’s Book of Physical Development.
The Art of Boxing and Self-defense, by Prof. Donovan.
U. S. Army Physical Exercises, revised by Prof. Donovan.
Physical Health Culture, by Prof. Fourmen.

NO ANONYMOUS LETTERS ANSWERED. °

Now and then a letter is received that bears no definite sig-
nature or address. You are reminded, one and all, that such
a letter is never answered by Prof. Fourmen.

_ best to answer any reasonable question, and do so gladly, but in-
- quiries from anonymous writers will receive no attention.

Rich in Height and Bulk.
Pror. FourMEN: My age, 20, years; weight, 175 pounds; height,
6 feet 2 inches; chest, normal, 3714 inches; waist, 30 inches.

_ How can I better myself? And what are my poor points?
Lisbon Falls, Me. G. M. Rag.

Your weak point, if it may be so designated, is the chest.
That should measure 214 inches more to bring you to the right
proportion, according to the accepted standard of averages for
all-round athletes. But you seem to be pretty well off as to
bodily height and bulk, so don’t worry. \

Sweethearts and “Tip Top.”

- Pror. FourmMen: I am eighteen years of age. About two
years ago I used to be one of the worst fellows; in our neigh-
borhood for gambling and swearing, and I know I must have
been a nuisance to everybody. Then I commenced to read
“Tip Top,” and I can honestly say it was the means of putting
me on the straight path. About six months afterward I met a
young lady, and have been going out with her ever since. She
has helped greatly to make me: what I am now~a clean-minded,
straightforward fellow. Do you not think I have good reason
for keeping company with her? If it had not beén for her and
“Tip Top,” I feel sure I should have been a bad egg.

' Philadelphia, Pa. W, ET,

In reply. to this letter, I congratulate you upon your young
Mads, who evidently exerts such a splendid influence upon you,
and gives you so much ambition to try and get on. At the
ages of eighteen or twenty, I can see no great harm in young

  

W. E. T.’s young lady, and able to do so much good,

 
 

bok City or Country for the Poor.

_ Pror. Fourmen: J always was a lover of nature, and, having-
lived in the country up to a few years ago, would like to have
your opinion upon the subject. Do not people in the country
find more enjoyment in life than people of the city? And also,
is not the country the best place for poor and middle- class
people? Axe Sopers.
Makinore, Md. oe

Some people are made for country life; some are not. Evi-
ently you are, and that being so, the country is good for you.
pe. contentment is one’s companion, the coe is the best

  

   

 

    
  
 

He will do his /

_ men jforming an attachment for girls, especially if they are like

TIP. TOP WEEKLY.

-situde, affects the brain and heart, and is harmful to the whole
' system.

learn a little shorthand, enough to do correspondence in business /
_ offices,

"speeches verbatim—that is a much more serious undertaking.

for it only by giving it a trial.

  
  

   

poor in the city nobody else need be aware of it; in the country
even the dogs ‘know it. But if you are poor, and have the
courage of your poverty, the country has advantages—sources of
enjoyment that are as open to you as to your richest neighbor.

To a Tall, Slim Fellow.
Pror. Fourmen: Will you tell a loyal “Tip Topper” his weak
points and the exercise to remedy them? My measurements are

      
     
       
 
  

as follows: Agé, 17; height, 6 feet % inch; weight, 150 Ibs.;
chest, normal, 33 inches; expanded, 35% inches; waist, 30%
inches. Is dumbbell exercise good for developing? .

 
      

Homewood, Pittsbufg, Pa. Joun J. Ryan.

You are shy on chest measurement, and you ought to weigh
more. The latter defect possibly will be remedied to some
extent by age, provided your generafhealth is good. You need
about five inches more of chest to bring you up to a fair —
average for the all-round athlete. Yes, dumbbell exercise is —
good for developing the chest and muscles of the arms.

 
   
        
     
     
       
      

Spare-time Employment. |

Pror. Fourmen: Can you give me some advice about getting
employment for my spare time—something that can be done iny®
the country? How about addressing envelopes? G. C. H.

Sag Harbor, N. Y.

Profitable spare-time employment is not easy to obtain, un-
less the worker is gifted in some way, such as with musical,
literary, or artistic talents. Carpentering, carving, and fretwork
can be made to pay, however, and so can the making of many
fancy articles, if only a market can be found for one’s goods.,
Breeding fowls, canaries, rabbits, and other Jive stock pays —
under favorable conditions, and gardening is also profitable.
Then ‘there are also photography, sign-writing, and so on, En- ©
velope addressing ig a deadly, ill-paid task.

       
     
       
     
   
     
       
    
      
         
     
 

Cigarette Smoking Bad.

The only habit I have that seems bad, ac-

‘whip” smoking. What Jo you think
Cuas. C. WHITE. |

     

Pror. FourMen:
cording to some People, is ‘
about it? I am’ fifteen years old.

Trenton, N. J.

You may take it from me that for a growing lad to smoke is —

always bad. It injures the stomach and the throat, causes las- ha

      
        
      
     
       
     
 

As for money spent on cigarettes, it is about the worst.

waste I know. You will never regret it if you make a solemn

resolve that you will have nothing whatever to do with to- |
baco, at least for some years to come. It is quite a mistake
to think smoking manly, and if I were an employer of labor,
I should most certainly make it a rule never to engage a boy —
whose thumb and forefinger bore the mark of what you call
“whips.” Be sensible then, and let smoking alone.

        
     
       
   
     
     
   
     
   
 

Stenography as a Life Work.

Pror, Fourmen: I am fourteen years old, am a good pene
man, and am quick at figures. Do you think stenography a good
study for me to take up, and is it desirable for a hf@work? Do |
you think I would make a good stetfographer ?

Chicago, IIl. JAMES HOotpen.

Your penmanship is graceful, but this, of course, gives me no

hint as to whether you would make a good stenographer. To

 
 
     
     
      
     
      
 

is not difficult. This branch of the work is done, for
the: most part by girls or women. But to be a stenographer,
in the broader sense—one who does court reporting or takes”

    
     
     
 

  
 
 

That work pays well when one is efficient. Comparatively few,
however, have either the faculty or the industry to master this
branch of the art. You can find out if you are especially fitted
Some minds are adapted | fo
the mastery of verbatim reporting, ‘some are not. You are at
the. right age to begin, and since your inclination is ip that 5
direction perhaps it would be well for you to make the ‘effort. /

 
   
  

   
 
 

 
 

 
    

ie

 

  
  

Tat FOE

A DUEL WITH POTATOES.

Orie way of cotnbating an evil practice is to make it ridicu-
lous. It was} by this means that dueling) was stopped in a
certain district of Kentucky some forty years ago. At that time
a traveling pteacher tamed Bowman, a strong, muscular man,
was conducting a series of religious meetings in Kentucky.
At one of them a well-known desperate character created a
disturbance and, being publicly rebuked by ‘Bowman, sent him

challenge to fight.

  

- The preacher’s first thought was to treat the- matter with
silent contempt. Then he reflected that dueling was all too

common in that region, afid he decided to accept the chal-
lenge.

As the challenged party, Bowman had the choice of weapons.
He selected a hali bushel of large Irish potatoes, and stipulated
that his opponent must stand fifteen paces distant, and that
only one potato at a time should be taken from the measure.

The desperado was furious, but Bowman insisted upon. his
rights as the challenged party, and threatened to denounce the
fellow as a coward if he made further objections. Seeing no
way out of the scrape, the desperado at last consented.

The contest took place on the outskirts of the town, and
almost everybody in the place turned out to see the fun. The
seconds arranged the two men in position, by the side of each
being a half- bushel measure filled with good-sized potatoes.

Bowman threw the first one. It struck his opponent in a
central spot, and fell in pieces. A shout of delight went up
from the crowd which flutried the desperado, and his potato
flew wide of the mark.

Bowmian watched his chance, and every time his opponent

  

WEEKLY, 31

struck

    

  
   
   

stooped for. a potato another one hit him in the side, leaving
a wet spot on his clothes, and then scattering on -all-sides.
The fellow was hit in this way five times; then thé sixth potato
him in the short ribs, and he lay on thé grass dowbled
up with pain- and groaning, “Enough!”

The bystanders. went wild with delight, but Mr. Bowman
looked very sober. The desperado. was taken home and put to ,
bed, and there he stayed @or more than a week. And whéii- he
again» appeared, he was greeted. with so many jokes that life
was always a burden to him.

That was the end of dueling in that region.

        
       
     
     
         
       
       
     
   
     

 

    
 

LEGENDS ABOUT THE. ROBIN,

A good many

    
   
 

superstitious ideas aré prevalent in different

        
 

localities with reference to the robin. In some patts of Scot-:
land the song of this interesting little bird is held to augur
no good for the sick person who hears it, and to those super-

   

stitiously inclined much anxiety is sometimes caused when its’
notes are heard near a house where any one happens to be ill,
There is a legend connected with the robin which I have some-
where seen. “

It is said that far, far away there is a land of woc, darktiess,
spirits of evil, and fire. Day by day does this little bird bear in
his: bill a drop of water to quench the flame. So near the burti-
ing stream does he fly that his. feathers are scorched, and hence
he is named bronphuddu (burnt breast). There is also a legend
which attributes his red breast to his having tried to pluck a
spike from the crown of thorns, with which our Lord’s head
was. encircled.

      
       
     
         
     
     
    

 

 

 

 

TIP TOP BASEBALL TOURNAMENT for 1910

 

 

 

PLAYER’S CERTIFICATES.

N fairness to all the clubs that enter this contest, and that
ier tmay be no doubt as to whom the prizes should go, Trp
Top has decided to require a certificate from each member of
the nine as well as the Club Certificate. Below is the coupon
which each tember should cnt out, sign and give to the manager
of the nine that he may send it along with the Club Certificate,
Write in the names of the clubs that played, the date of the gaine,
the score and the ame of the winner. \

PLAYER'S CERTIFICATE.
‘TIP TOP BASEBALL TOURNAMENT FOR 1910.

This is to certify that I have played in the game between the

 
   

 

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CONDITIONS OF CONTEST.

ays two teams which, at the end of the season, have the highest

      
    

verage—that is, play the greatest number of games, score the

most runs, and lose the least number of ream be declared
the winners. Of these two the one having the higher average will be
declared the TIP TOP CHAMPIONSHIP TEAM OF THE ALL-AMERICAN BASE-—
BALL TOURNAMENT OF 1910, and will receive a beautiful silk pennant
bearing suitable words. Each winning team will receive a full equipment,
consisting of trousers, shirt, stockings, shoes and -cap for nine mempers.
For each game played the seore, signed by the manager, must be sent to
the editor of Ti Tor. The manager must see to it, also, that every —
player of his nine signs one of the certificates printed at the left of this—
the one headed, “Player’s Certificate.” Each player must sign a separate
certificate, and these—nine in all for each game—must accompany every
Club Certificate—sent to this office. To substantiate the score, get. ‘your.
postmaster} or one or more of the newsdealers of whom you buy your Tip

        
     
     
     
   
     
         
     
      
   
 

possible, send in newspaper accounts of the games. No notice will be taken -
of any score not entered on a Club Certificate cut out of Trp ToP; nor will
any notice be taken of a score not ees by a signed ae:
Certificate for every meine of the nine,

        
    

    

 

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1910—T1P TOP BASEBALL TOURNAMENT —1940

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ALL OF THE BACK NUMBERS OF

TIP TOP WEEKLY

THAT - CAN NOW BE SUPPLIED

 

 

#
233—Frank Merriwell’s Find. 527—Dick Merriwell’s Reprisal. 600—Frank Merriwell’s Annoyance. 669—Frank Merriwell’s’ Great
237—Frank Merriwell’s Power. 528—Dick Merriwell Dared. 601—Frank Merriwell’s Restraint. « Work.
238—Frank Merriwell’s Policy. 529—Dick Merriwell’s Dismay. 602—-Dick Merriwell Held Back.» 670—Dick Merriwell’s Mind,
239—Frank erriwell’s Freshmen. 530—Frank Merriwell’s Son. 603—Dick Merriwell in the Line. 671—Dick Merriwell’s “Dip.”
240—Frank Merriwell’s Generalship 531—Frank Merriwell’s Old Flock. 604—Dick Merriwell’s Drop Kick. 672—Dick Merriwell’s Rally.
241—Frank’ Merriwell’s Kick, 532—Frank Merriwell’s House Party 605—Frank Merriwell’s Air Voyage 673—Dick Merriwell’s Flier.
242—Frank Merriwell’s High Jump 533—Dick Merriwell’s Summer 606—Frank Merriwell’s Auto Chase. 674—IFrank Merriwell’s Bullets.
2438—Frank Merriwell’s ‘“Brassie’”’ Team. 607—Frank Merriwell’s Captive. 675—Frank Merriwell Cut Off.
Shot. 534——Dick Merriwell’s Demand. 608—Dick Merriwell’s Value. 676—Frank Merriwell’s Ranch Boss
244—Frank Merriwell’s Shrewdness 535—Dick Merriwell’s Slabmate. 609—Dick Merriwell Doped. 677—Dick Merriwell’s Equal.
oer ee Sere Entertain 5236—Frank Merriwell’s Summer 610—Dick Merriwell’s Belief. 678—Dick Merriwell’s Development.
men Camp. ee eee Merriwell in the Mar- 679—Dick Merriwell’s Eye,
246—Frank ‘Merriwell’s Mastery. 537—Frank Merriwell’s Proposal. ket 680—Frank Merriwell’s Zest.
247—Frank Merriwell’s Dilemma. 538—Frank Merriwell’s Spook- 612—Fr ank Merriwell’s Fight for 681—Frank Merriwell’s Patience.
248—Frank Merriwell’s Set-Back. hunters. Fortune, 682—F rank Merriwell’s Pupil.
249—Frank Merriwell’s Search. 5389-—Dick Merriwell’s Cheek. 6138—Frank Merriwell on Top. 683—Frank Merriwell’s Fighters.
250—Frank Merriwell’s Ring. 540—Dick Merriwell’s Sacrifice. 614—Dick Merriwell’s Trip West. 684—Dick Merriwell at the ‘‘Meet.”
251—Frank Merriwell’s Party. 541—Dick Merriwell’s Heart. 615—Dick Merriwell’s Predicament. 685—Dick Merriwell’s Protest.
253—-Frank Merriwell’s Skill. 542—Frank Merriwell’s New Auto. ey aes Prev alah in Mystery 686—Dick Merriwell in the Marathon
254—-Frank Merriwell’s Club, 543—Frank Merriwell’s Pride. 687—Dick Merriwell’s Colors.
255—Frank Meriwell’s Scheme. 544—-Frank Merriwell’s Young Win- e17—Prank Y Mtadstweits Proposi- 688—Dick Merriwell, Driver.
256—Frank Merriwell’s Mysterious ners. 689—Dick Merriwell on the Deep.
Move. 545—Dick Merriwell’s Lead. 618-—Frank’ Merriwell Perplexed. 690—Dick Merriwell in the North
257—Frank Merriwell’s Hand. 546—Dick Merriwell’s Influence. 619—F rank Merriwell’s Suspicion. Woods.
258—Frank Merriwell’s Suspicion. 547—-Dick Merriwell’s Top Notch. 620—-Dick Merriwell’s Gallantry. 691—Dick Merriwell’s Dandies.
259—Frank Merriwell’s Trust. 548—Frank Merriwell’s Kids, 621—-Dick Merriwell's Condition. 692—-Dick Merriwell’s “‘Skyscooter.”
261—Frank Merriwell’s Bosom 549—Frank Merriwell’s Kodakers. 622—Dick Merriwell’s Stanchness. 693—-Dick Merriwell’ in the Elk
Friend. 550—Dick Merriwell, Freshman. 623—Dick Merriwell’s Match. Mountains.
262—Frank Merriwell Deceived. 551—Dick Merriwell’s Progres. 624—Frank Merriwell’s Hard Case. 694—Dick Merriwell in Utah.
263—Frank Merriwell in Form. 552—Dick Merriwell, Half-back. 625—Frank Merriwell’s Helper. 695—Dick Merriwell’s Bluff.
264—Frank Merriwell’s Coach. 553—Dick Merriwell’s Resentment. 626—Frank Merriwell’s Doubts. 696—Dick Merriwell in the Saddle.
433—Dick Merriwell’s ‘‘Phantom.” 554—Dick Merriwell Repaid. 627—Frank Merriwell’s ‘‘Phenom.” 697—Dick Merriwell’s Ranch Friends
467—Dick Merriwell, in Egypt. 555—Dick Merriwell’s Staying 628—Dick Merriwell’s Stand. 698—Frahk Merriwell at Phantom
469—Frank Merriwell’s Retaliation Power. 629—Dick Merriwell’s Circle. Lake.
478—Frank Merriwell’s Method. 556—-Dick Merriwell’s “Push.” 630—Dick Merriwell’s Reach. 699—Frank Merriwell’s Hold-back.
485—-Dick Merriwell in Manila.’ 557—Dick Merriwell’s Running. 631—Dick Merriwell’s Money. 700—Frank Merriwell’s Lively Lads.
486—Dick Merriwell Marooned, 558—Dick Merriwell’s Joke. 632—-Dick Merriwell Watched. 701—F rank Merriwell as Instructor.
487——-Dick Merriwell’s Comrade. 559—Dick Merriwell’s Seven. 633—Dick Merriwell Doubted. 702—Dick Merriwell’s Cayuse.
488—Dick Merriwell, Gap-Stopper. 560—Dick Merriwell’s Partner. 634—Dick Merriwell’s Distrust. 703—Dick Merriwell’s Quirt.
489—Dick Merriwell’s Sacrifice Hit 561—Dick Merriwell in the Tank. 635—-Diék: Merriwell’s Risk. 704—Dick Merriwell’s Freshman

-490—Dick Merriwell’s Support, 562—Frank Merriwell’s Captive. 636—Frank Merriwell’s Favorite, ' Friend.
491—Dick Merriwell’s Stroke 563—Frank Merriwell’s Trailing. 637—Frank Merriwell’s Young Clip- 705—Dick Merriwell’s Best Form.
492—-Dick Merriwell Shadowed. 564—Frank Merriwell’s Talisman. pers. f 706—Dick Merriwell’s Prank.
493—Dick Merriwell’s Drive. 565—Frank Merriwell’s Horse. 638—Frank Merriwell’s Steadying 707—Dick Merriwell’s Gambol.
494—-Dick Merriwell’s Return. ° 566—Frank Merriwell’s Intrusion. Hand. 708—Dick Merriwell’s Gun.
495—Dick Merriwell’s Restoration. 567—Frank Merriwell’s Bluff. 639—F rank Merriwell’s Record 709—Dick Merriwell at His Best.
496—Dick Merriwell’s Value. 568—Dick Meriwell’s Regret. Breakers. 710—-Dick Merriwell’s Master Mind,

_ 497—Dick Merriwell’s “Dukes.” 569—Dick Merriwell’s Silent Work. 640—Dick Merriwell’s Shoulder. - '711—Dick Merriwell’s Dander.
498—-Dick Merriwell’s Drop Kick. 570—Dick Merriwell’s Arm. 641—Dick Merriwell’s Desperate 712—-Dick Merriwell’s Hope.
499—Dick Merriwell’s Defeat. §71—Dick Merriwell’s Skill. Work. 713—Dick Merriwell’s Standard.
500—Dick Merriwell’s Chance. 572—-Dick Merriwell’s Magnetism. 642—Dick Merriwell’s Example. 714—Dick Merriwell’s Sympathy. _ ‘
501—Dick Merriwell’s Stride. 578—Dick Merriwell’s System. 643—Dick Merriwell. At Gale’s 715—Dick Merriwell in Lumber ©
502—Dick Merriwell’s Wing-Suit. 574—Dick Merriwell’s Salvation. ‘Ferry. n :
503—Dick Merriwell’s Skates. 575—Dick Merriwell’s Twirling. 644—-Dick Merriwell’s Inspiration. 716—Frank Merriwell’s Fairness.
504—Dick Merriwell’s Four Fists. 576—Dick Merriwell’s Party.’ 645—Dick Merriwell’s Shooting. 717—Frank Merriwell’s Pledge. :
505—Dick Merriwell’s Dashing 577—-Dick Merriwell’s Backers. 646—Dick Merriwell in the Wilds. 718—Frank Merriwell, the Man of —
‘ Game. 578—Dick Merriwell’s Coach. 647——Dick Merriwell’s Red Comrade Grit.

506—F rank Merriwell’s Tigers. | 579—Dick Merriwell’s Bingle. 648—-Frank Merriwell’s Ranch. 719—Frank Merriwell’s Retuta
507—Frank Merriwell’s Treasure 580—Dick Merriwell’s Hurdling.! 649—Frank Merriwell in the Sad- Blow

Guard, 581—Dick Merriwell’s Best Work. dle. 720—Frank. Merriwell’s Quest.
508—Frank Merriwell’s Flying Fear 582—Dick Merriwell’s Respite. © 650—Frank Merriwell’s Brand. 721—Frank Merriwell’s Ingots.

-§09—Dick Merriwell in Maine. 5838—Dick Merriwell’s Disadvan-651—-Frank Merriwell’s Red ‘Guide. eas ero Merriwell’s Assistance. “
_510——Dick Merriwell’s Polo Team. tage. 652-—Dick Merriwell’s Rival. ee Merriwell at the Throt- —
511-——-Dick Merriwell in the Ring. 584—Dick Merriwell Beset. 653—-Dick Merriwell’s Strength,

'512—Frank Merriwell’s New Idea. 585—Dick Merriwell’s Great Rival. 654—Dick Merriwell’s Secret Work. 724—Prank JASPER NE the Always
518—Frank Merriwell’s Trouble. 586—Dick Merriwell’s Distrust. 655—-Dick Merriwell’s Way.

514—Frank Merriwell’s Pupils. 587—Dick Merriwell, Lion-Tamer. 656—Frank Merriwell’s Red Visitor 725—Frank ‘Merriwell in Diamond —
515—Dick Merriwell’s Satisfaction. 588—Dick Merriwell’s Camp-site. 657—-Frank Merriwell’s Rope. Lan iy
§16—-Dick Merriwell’s Discernment. 589—Dick Merriwell’s Debt. 658—Frank Merriwell’s’ Lesson. 726—Frank ‘Merriwell's Desperate K

-517—Dick Merriwell’s Friendly Hand 590—Dick Merriwell’s Camp-Mates. 659—Frank Merriwell’s Protection. “age
518—Frank Merriwell’s New Boy. 591—Dick Merriwell’s Draw. 660—Dick Merriwell’s Reputation. 727—Frank Merriwell’s Black Ter- ,
-519—Frank Merriwell’s Mode, ' §92—Dick Merriwell’s Disapproval. 661—Dick Merriwell’s Motto. :

/ 520—Frank Merriwell’s Aids. 598—Dick Merriwell’s Mastery. 662—Dick Merriwell’s Restraint, 728—Prank Merriwell Again on the
§21—-Dick Merriwell’s Visit. 594—Dick Merriwell’s Warm Work 663—Dick Merriwell’s Ginger. lab.
522—-Dick Merriwell’s Retaliation. 595—Dick Merriwell’s “Double 664—-Dick Merriwell’s Driving. 729—Wrenk Merriwell’s Hard Game
523—Dick Merriwell’s Rival, Squeeze.’ 665—Dick Merriwell’s Good Cheer. 730—Frank Merriwell’s Six-in-hand.
§24—-r'rank Merriwell’s Young Crew 596—Dick Merriwell’s Vanishing. 666—Frank Merriwell’s Theory. 731—Frank Merriwell’s Duplicate.
525—Frank Merriwell’s Fast Nine. 597—Dick Merriwell Adrift. 667—Frank Merriwell’s Diplomacy. 732—Frank Merriwell on Rattle-
526—Frank Merriwell’s’ Athletic 598—Dick Merriwell’s Influence. 668—Frank Merriwell’s Encourage- snake Ranch.

Field. 599—F'rank~Merriwell’s Worst Boy. ment. 733—Frank Merriwell’s Sure Hand.
t ' \ ' ¥

[ Z

PRICE, FIVE CENT Ss PER COPY

If you want any back Ceeibdeg of or wetllich' and cannot procure an from your newsdealer, thew can a be’ s
_ obtained direct from thie office. Postage stamps taken the same as money.

 
 
Pe See Pt a as
ete aa Te lia id rman ene

eee ae

= omer

Se ee eee LTE Aaa aaa Cree ameegy see

 

 

BARLY:* NUMBERS Of 1 iva

TIP TOP WEEKLY

ARE PRESERVED IN THE NEW MEDAL LIBRARY

 

 

The following books in the NEW MEDAL LIBRARY con-
tain numbers 1 to 441 of the TIP TOP WEEKLY. Many of
the individual numbers before 441 are entirely out of print so
that the thousands of boys who are interested in the early adven-
tures of Frank and Dick Merriwell and who want to read every-
thing that was written about them, will welcome this oppor-
tunity to secure their favorite reading in a form that is more

readily preserved. PRICE, FIFTEEN CENTS.

150—Frank Merriwell’s School-days.
167—Frank Merriwell’s Chums.
178—Frank Merriwell’s Foes.
184—Frank Merriwell’s Trip West.
189—Frank Merriwell Down South.
193—Frank Merriwell’s Bravery.
197—Frank Merriwell’s Hunting Tour.
201—Frank Merriwell in Europe.
205—Frank Merriwell at Yale.

209—F rank Merriwell’s Sports Afield.
213—Frank Merriwell’s Races.
217—Frank Merriwell’s Bicycle Tour.
225—Frank Merriwell’s Courage.
2290—Frank Merriwell’s Daring.
233—Frank Merriwell’s Athletes.
237—Frank Merriwell’s Skill.
240—Frank Merriwell’s Champions.
244—Frank
247—Frank
251—Frank
254—F rank
258—Frank
262—Frank

Merriwell’s Secret.
Merriwell’s Danger.
Merriwell’s Loyalty.
Merriwell in Camp.
Merriwell’s Vacation.
267—Frank Merriwell’s Cruise.
271—Frank Merriwell’s Chase.
276—Frank Merriwell in Maine.
280—Frank Merriwell’s Struggle.
284—Frank Merriwell’s First Job.
288—Frank Merriwell’s Opportunity.
292—Frank Merriwell’s Hard Luck.
296—Frank Merriwell’s Protégé.
300—Frank Merriwell on the Road.

304—Frank Merriwell’s Own Company.

308—Frank Merriwell’s Fame.

312—Frank Merriwell’s College Chums.

316—Frank Merriwell’s Problem.
320—Frank Merriwell’s Fortune.
324—Frank Merriwell’s New Comedian.
328—Frank Merriwell’s Prosperity.

Merriwell’s Return to Yale.

332—Frank Merriwell’s Stage Hit.
336—Frank Merriwell’s Great Scheme.
340—Frank Merriwell in England.
344—Frank Merriwell on the Boulevards.
348—Frank Merriwell’s Duel.
352—Frank Merriwell’s Double Shot.

356—Frank Merriwell’s Baseball Victories

359—Frank Merriwell’s Confidence.
362—Frank Merriwell’s Auto.
365—Frank Merriwell’s Fun.
368—Frank Merriwell’s Generosity.
371—Frank Merriwell’s Tricks.
374—Frank Merriwell’s Temptation.
377—Frank Merriwell on Top.
380—Frank Merriwell’s Luck.
383—Frank Merriwell’s Mascot.
386—Frank Merriwell’s Reward.
389—Frank Merriwell’s Phantom.
392—Frank Merriwell’s Faith.
395—Frank Merriwell’s Victories.
308—Frank Merriwell’ s Iron Nerve.
401—Frank Merriwell in Kentucky.
404—Frank Merriwell’s Power.
407—Frank Merriwell’s Shrewdness.
410—Frank Merriwell’s Set-back.
413—Frank Merriwell’s Search.
416—Frank Merriwell’s Club.
419—Frank Merriwell’s Trust.
422—Frank Merriwell’s False Friend.
425—Frank 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.
497—Frank Merriwell’s Backers.
500—Dick Merriwell’s Backstop.
503—Dick Merriwell’s Western Mission.
506—Frank Merriwell’s Rescue.
509—Frank Merriwell’s Encounter.
512—Dick Merriwell’s Marked Money.
515—Frank Merriwell’s Nomads.
518—Dick Merriwell on the Gridiron.
521—Dick Merriwell’s Disguise.
524—Dick Merriwell’s Test.
527—Frank Merriwell’s Trump Card.
530—Frank Merriwell’s Strategy.
533—Frank Merriwell’s Triumph.
536—Dick Merriwell’s Grit.
539—Dick Merriwell’s Assurance.
542—Dick Merriwell’s Long Slide.
Published About December 7th.
545—Frank Merriwell’s Rough Deal.
Published About December 28th.
548—Dick Merriwell’s Threat.
Published About January 18th.
551—Dick Merriwell’s Persistence.

Published About February 8th.
554—Dick Merriwell’s Day.

 

 

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, NEW YORK CITY