Cabo S Ss D cH LAUGHTER, } Pe CARRIED Quy MeN HAZING Com JHE 2 TH om “MITT oe Issued Weekly, By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second-class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Ave., NV. Y. _ Copyright, 1909, dby- STREET & SMITH. a ie wana spear Og SIS Hs a No. 704. NEW YORK, October 9, 1909. — Dick Merriwell’s ee eee ee ee eae 4 CHAPTER I. ee SO ee THE BOY. 5) Sitting by the open car window, Dick looked out as - the train stopped at the station of a small country vil- lage. Having spent a few days at his brother’s home, in Bloomfield, Merriwell was on his way to New _. Haven. Upon the station platform was to be seen the nigetal _ gathering of curious idlers, who had collected there to “watch the train come in,’ which, fer many persons in a sleepy country town, is always something of an event. : ‘ Directly opposite Dick’s window a slender, middle- _ aged woman in black was bidding her blue-eyed, rosy- _ cheeked ‘boy good-by. They embraced almost. tear- fully. “Be a good boy, and take care of yourself, Lance,” urged the boy’s mother, with lots of temptations and trials, and you must be _ brave and always on your euard, I shall be very lonely. Oh, it doesn’t seem that I can let you go!” ae a ‘clean, healthy, blue-eyed, with curly hair, seemed OR, A QUESTION OF MANHOOD. By BURT L. STANDISH. ‘a - such a calamity. I’ve talked to you; I’ve tried to make e “I know you're sure to meet | be m.a man, and that I can look out for number one.” The boy, an almost girlish-looking chap of eighteen, wy can’t expect that avery letter T ‘weitte As Se Price Five Cents. * “ reshman Friend; “Don’t worry about me, mother,” he said. “Don’t cry, now. Please don’t! If you do, you'll upset me, and that will look silly. I’m all right. I reckon I can take care of myself as well as other fellows.” The woman wiped her eyes swiftly with her sai kerchief, and smiled bravely. * “You've always lived in the country, Lance,’ ’ she é said, “and you'll be “Oh, I’m not so frightfully green, if I have lived in the country. I know a thing or two. Any one would think that I was going away to war. I'll —- back alive, mother.” po At this they both laughed. i alee “Ttisn’t that,” she said. “I’m not afraid that you'll be killed; Lance. There are things even worse than you understand.” “Any one would think me a eit, re muttered Lance, -withgood-natured ‘resentment. “I'll prove to you that “You must write me often, my son—every day.” “You may- be sure I'll write as often as I can, mother; bit you know I'll be pretty busy at first, and ree TOR cover a dozen pages. Whenever I can get time I will write a good, long letter, be sure of that.” “And you mustn’t forget your Uncle George; you ‘must write to him, too. You know he has promised to help you, if you need help.” The boy promised. The conductor cried “All aboard!” _ Lance hurriedly embraced and kissed his mother, after _ which he caught up a battered suit case and boarded svthe train, which began to move immediately. and once more Looking from the window, Dick saw the woman Saifing bravely and waving her handkerchief. Then, when it was likely that the boy could see her no longer, the handkerchief suddenly went to her eyes. The train was crowded. Every seat in Dick’s car ‘was occupied, and he saw the boy come through, car- “tying his suit case, and vainly looking right and left for some place to sit. For a moment their eyes met, and Merriwell gave the lad a smile. He would have phen but Hee boy hurried. on to the next car in : “Lucky fetlows to have a mother,” thought Dick, with a touch of sadness. “I wonder where he is ‘came to 4 the smoker, which was filled with a blue haze of tobacco smoke, unable to find a seat, but in the smoker two well- ressed young fellows were sitting, and one of them had: his feet deposited on the cushion of the opposite eat, the back of which was turned. Neither paid any tention as Fair paused beside that’ séat. ek tell you, Carlin,” the fellow who had his feet on the ‘cushion was saying, “Brighton is a piker. “He ries to Bee as a apex but he lacks sand. He s a a ; vt beg yout! pardon,” ea hi Be a thie seat ? it an cae & eae Pir a told: thin- pee Haak \bout him there was a wearied, blasé air, even though, uld not have been more than twenty- one years of | 1g The words issued from his lips acabndly, which On the other coaches he had been’ WEEKLY, set and dark, with straight, black hair, and full, red- dish lips, which gave his mouth a sullen pout. Both were smoking. The tall chap pulled slowly at an amber-stemmed briarwood, while the other chewed the end of a black cigar. For-a moment or two the taller one made no move, and Fair became conscious that his cheeks were burning. ; . The chap by the window removed his cigar from his mouth. i a Clay,” he said, in a decidedly disagreeable voice, “the lady wishes to sit down.” The one called Clay withdrew his left foot from the cushion and followed it slowly with his right. “Thank you,” said Lance, slipping into the seat ; and then could have choked himself for the words. f “Will you give me a little room for my suit case?” he added, seeking to draw it in from the aisle. Begrudgingly they made room for him to dispose of the suit case. “Why don’t you check your trunk when. you travel?” asked the dark one. _ “That's my business,” flashed Fair resentfully. a i! ig see that it isn’t in your way, if you srt t occupy more room than properly belongs to you.” : The taller chap laughed softly. “And there you have your answer, Mr. Carlin,” he murmured, in that slow drawl. ‘‘You must be careful | to confine yourself strictly to the space required by a. single passenger, without getting out of bounds.” | Carlin frowned and glared at Lance, who tried to assume an air of disdain and indifference, put mage a decided failure of the effort. “Children should not be permitted in. this. car,” said. “Tt’s no place for them among real men.” i “It seems to atays said Lance, “that some of - A of fea men,” “What do you - ‘take us fori a | threateningly. “You'd better be careful with your 1 young fellow.” us | “There, there, Hugo,’ Clay. murmured the one cal “Don’t get into a chew with vested “I think you're ‘right about Brighton,” fa - ar _ turning to his Pde “He’s a piker, ates TIP TOP “Nine-tenths of the time,’’ corrected Clay. always his valuables in order to get along until he receives the next allowance from home. hocking }. There are times when he owes every man he can touch.” | a. “But I’ve taken care not to let him get into me very 4 i deep,” said Carlin. “Of course, he’s a good chap, and | all that, but I can’t afford to let him trim me/ I say, _ Dunbar, are you going to have those rooms in Van- derbilt ?” “No,” “I didn’t get them. arship for me, and he’s going to help me through col- oat lege. I’vé saved one hundred and seventy-eight dol- lars of my own, which I’m taking with me. That will — — last me quite a while, if I’m careful.” Carlin sat up with a show of interest. “One hundred and seventy-eight will carry you a short distance,” he said ; “but you'll find it won't go so 3 very far, after all.” He was smiling on the boy, now, and his atmos- phere was that of one who had taken sudden friendly interest in a person for whom he had previously held — no regard whatever. = Fair softened. a “Tt’s because I’m to, become a Yale man,” he thought. “Yale is very democratic. These fellows thought me just an ordinary passenger on this train.” Despite the fact that he had been born and reared in the country, Lancelot Fair imagined himself some-. what worldly wis& But, truth to tell, he was most unsuspicious and unsophisticated. Dunbar Clay exerted himself enough to hold out a languid hand. “Shake, old chap,” your destination at first “We'd welconied you with one arms,” Carlin. ; Lance shook Clay’s hand, giving it a warm grip, , he drawled.: “1& we'd known i" ‘ assured returned his handshake with interest. “You .were lucky to get a scholarship, old fellow,’ he said. “Your uncle must have had a pull. Was he a Yale man?” | | “No; but his best friend is Professor Fibsltnata o Oberlin, and Professor Hopkinson is very well ac is quainted with the head professor at Yale. That’s how 3 it came about, you understand. Perhaps I may add, without egotism, that I Grgriated from Cranfo : Academy at the head of my class.” ie of which helped,’ Ss said aos gracefully 4 TIP TOP knocking the loose ashes out upon the floor. “Have you friends or acquaintances in Yale?” “No, I don’t know any one in New Haven, even.” “Well, plenty of friends.” “Sure,” nodded Carlin. We'll be glad to help you in any way we that’s too bad. But, then, you'll make “Yale men always stick together. can.” “Which is very kind of you, indeed again blushing rosy red, which made him lodk more %° , said Fair, than ever like a girl. “I certainly shall appreciate it, gentlemen. Of course, I expect to be hazed like other fellows, and I’m going to try to take my medicine.”’ “Oh, hazing is practically abolished at Yale,” said Clay. “It doesn’t really amount to anything any more. You needn’t worry about that. What you want to do is get in with the right bunch, and make We'll fix that for you.”’ Fair’s gratitude increased with each moment. What plenty of good friends. a mistake he had made in his original estimate of these fellows! Apparently his first impression of them had been wholly wrong. “What dormitory do you think of rooming in?” in- quired Carlin. . “Oh, I’m not going into a dormitory. ranged that I shall have a room in a private house on York Street. Is that near the college?” “Quite near. It’s very convenient; but, of cour8e, it’s better to live in a dormitory, where you get a taste it: 4s: alts of real,college life. Do you go in for athletics?” This question: was put in an apparently sincere man- ner, but the left eye of the speaker twitched a bit as he gianced at his companion. “Oh, I’ve never taken up athletics a great deal,” an- “T’ve played baseball a little, but my She was swered Fair. mother wouldn’t let me go out for football. afraid I’d get hurt.” “Football,” drawled Clay, “is an extremely rough game. Here’s Carlin, sore, because he hasn’t made the Yale eleven, but, perhaps, it has saved him broken limbs, or even a broken, neck.” > “T heard you speaking of Dick Merrivwell Lance. ‘‘He’s. a very famous athlete, isn’t, he? Everybody seems to have heard of him—that is, every- body who takes an interest in college athletics.” “Oh, yes,” nodded Hugo Carlin, with a laugh, that was half a sneer, “he’s managed to advertise himself pretty well. As a self-advertiser, he certainly takes the palm.” “But isn’t he really a fine athlete?” “Tle’s fairly good; but there are others, although i ‘ said y9 ’ WEEKLY. you might not suspect it, if you were listening to his ardent admirers. There’s a lot of tommyrot circulated about that fellow.”’ “I supposed all Yale men were proud of him,” said Lance, in a disappointed tone. “We're proud enough of any Yale man who can de- liver the goods,” said Clay; “but we’re not at all inclined to boost any particular chap above other men who are fully his equal.” “I didn’t suppose Dick Merriwell’s equal could be found in Yale.” 7 “Tsn’t it remarkable,” cried Carlin, “that such a fellow’s reputation should be known even in remote rural regions? He ought to be in the circus business. Why, he could give any of them points in advertising. He could out-Barnum Barnum.”’ “It’s that thing about him which has always made me disinclined to take up with the fellow,” observed Clay. “It’s remarkable how many chaps can be hood- winked.” “T’m awfully disappointed to know that he isn’t “T’ve looked for- all he’s cracked up to be,” said Fair. ward with a great deal of eagerness to the time when I should see him. I’ve even thought it might be pos- sible for me to become acquainted with him.” “And ‘that’s the height of the ambition of many fellows,’ laughed Carlin. ‘“They come to Yale with a false estimation of Merriwell, and are willing and eager to bow down at his shrine.” “But I should think in time they would become un- deceived. I should think their disappointment would be so great that he would lose much of his popu- larity. Isn't he a popular man?” “He is,’ admitted Clay, ‘‘and that’s where his cley- erness comes in. He knows how to keep the bunch in line. He knows how to do certain spectacular stunts to deceive them, Let’s not talk about him, for it makes me sore. Confound this dirty old car, any- how !”’ 3 “Yes, confound it,’ drawled Clay. “Still, what's the use to growl? We couldn't get any seats in a par- lor car, and we had to be satisfied with what we could get.” “T didn’t try to get a seat in a parlor car,” said Lance, “‘but there were no seats in the other cars I came through, and that’s how I happened to be here.” Carlin produced his cigar case, opened it, and ex- tended it toward the boy. “Smoke,” he invited. Fair flushed and shook his head. peak ee SS ig a ae ees Tovtetie egy oz gn ee tet i Sora ae ? mR, eee TEP TOP? “T don’t smoke, thank you. It makes me sick! I’ve tried it.” “Vou'll have to brace up,and learn, old fellow. It a always makes a man sick when he first’tries it. I say, let’s have a little game of smudge, to pass the time. That's the idea.” Restoring the cigar case to his pocket, he produced another case, from which he drew forth a pack of cards. CHAPTER IIL THE SHARKS AND THE SUCKER. It may seem remarkable that a youth like Dick Mer- tiwell should choose for\railroad reading the “Medita- tions” of Marcus Aurelius, but this was the book im which he buried himself after glancing through a ‘newspaper and reading a magazine article on irriga- tion. Dick had discovered that the plain maxims of the great Roman sage and emperor were most excellent would heed their teachings for any one who wisdom. They taught . benevolence; ‘and — that self-abnegation which destroys — self-indulgence, and. urges one to work for the good of all, rather than for the individual. In that book he found the teachings of a man who had learned to de- spise superstition, who had developed an undeviating steadiness of purpose, who was tolerant of human in- firmities, who held sophistry and display in contempt, who was forever loyal to duty, and who, under all circumstances, maintained his dignity. In that book Dick found ,such splendid maxims as these : “Men exist for each other; teach them to bear with one another.” “When thou risest unwillingly in the morning, say, ‘T am rising to the work of a human being; why, then, should I be dissatisfied if I am going to do the work for which I was brought into the world?” “Since it is possible that thou mayest depart from this life this very moment, regulate every act and thought accordingly—for death hangs over thee while thou livest—while it is in thy power to be good,” It must not be fancied that Dick Merriwell was a prig who could find no pleasure in light literature, or who was affected and artificial because he could take interest in philosophy of this sort. At times, Dick loved to read a rousing tale of adventure, and indulged in such pastime; but always he had taken care not to WEEKLY. 5 let reading of a frivolous sort get such a hold on him that it would destroy interest in literature of a solid and substantial nature. He wisely took his light reading much as one takes dessert at dinner. Never had he been silly enough to attempt to subsist upon it. Never had he thought it worth while to spoil his taste for good reading by indulging promiscuously in the “best sellers’ of the day; and, when questioned, he felt no shame in confessing that he had not read this, that, or the other recently published popular novel. Many plain, old-fashioned people used to believe sincerely that all reading of fiction must be harmful, and in former. days there was perhaps too little novel reading by certain straightlaced people; but now it may safely be said that all this is changed, and there is often too much reading of light fiction, and too little reading of literature of a higher character. Neverthe- less, the novel has been, in thousands of cases, the stiniulus which has aroused in those who perused it a taste for better reading, for poetry, history, and phi- losophy. Doubtless, therefore, light fiction has done more good than harm. | Dick did not merely skini through the “Meditations” ; he read them slowly, carefully, comprehendingly. He sought to fix him in his memory, so that they would make a deep impression upon his mind, and such an impression could not but have its effect in the develop- ment of his character. Already, reading, study, and observation had led him to form opinions and acquire a, sort of philosophy far in advance of his years. The effect upon his character was most marked. The majority of youths and young men seem more or less crude. When one is met who possesses a fixed, well- formed character, that fact. is immediately discerni- ble, for character is something which may be felt, even before one has associated with that person sufficiently to, witness the proof of its existence. Mental breadth and strength was plainly written on Dick Merriwell’s face; and yet it was a pleasant, genial face, that of a life-loving, jovial, loyal chap, who could be trusted in small things as well as great. He was, to a surprising extent, the possessor of that wonderful charm called personal magnetism. That he was kind and just and tolerant and resolute, a staunch friend, and an honest, fair-fighting enemy, no one could hon- estly doubt. , With all the other qualities which he had gradually developed, he still retained the ability to enjoy an honest lark, to find real pleasure in any fair sport, and he could take a joke upon himself without displaying anger or resentment, which is often a failing with os at Loe i those who most love to put a joke upon others. In no degree had he lost that keen zest in life which every _ healthy youth should feel. Indeed, it may be said that the zest increased and deepened with his advancing years. It is a sad and unfortunate thing when the edge of _ this zest begins to grow dull in any one, for that marks a turning point and the beginning of a decline which | _ should never come as long as mental and bodily health - continue. es. So deeply was Dick absorbed in his book that he- - failed for a few moments to notice a woman who had looked in vain for a seat, and stopped in the aisle, where she was swaying with the motions of the train, with no man showing an inclination to rise and give up his place to her. Happening to glance up, the Yale » youth closed his book suddenly, and was on his feet at once. _ “Madam, will you please take this seat?” he invited, _ with a smile that illumined his fine face. “Oh, thank you,” she said. “It is too bad to de- -_prive you of ———” _ “You're not depriving me in the least,” he assured. “Tye been sitting some time, and it will do me good to move. Doubtless I'll be able to find: a seat somewhere on the train.” “You're very kind, and I thank you,” said the woman, as she slipped wearily into the seat he had vacated. — / _ Taking his magazine and book with him, Dick w éht in search of another seat, which he ceed found 1 in the smoking car. It chanced that this vacant Seat. was direeely Rabind _ Clay and Carlin, who, with Lance Fair, were now en- gaged in a game of cards. They were playing “smudge.” Craftily they had led Fair into the oes playing at first for small stakes, he got the games in which there were no WEEKLY, And eventually they had induced him to consent to raising the stakes, saying, that all good sports did this, which gave the losers # chance to get square. As Lance was ahead, his objections were feeble, and so they lured him into the trap. Dick knew both those men by sight, but he did not At first he seemed to take little inter- est in the game. Soon, however, their conversation attracted him, for he was quick to detect that they were playing the pink-cheeked, blue-eyed boy for a speak to them. sucker. Even then he had no suspicion that they were play- ing a really stiff game. _ “It may do the boy good to lose a little money like this,” thought Dick. folly of taking up with strangers and gambling upon rains. The honest fellow who does such a thing gets bitten nine times out of ten.” 5 He shifted his position and leaned forward a bit, so that he could watch the play. 7 Fair, and already he was a loser. With the craft of their kind, his game mates led him on, by saying that se it was only a little streak, and that it would certainly turn again in his favor in a few moments., ; : When he dealt, Carlin handled the cards awkwardly ; but Clay could shuffle and deal with a certain air and grace which indicated much practice. He was languid” and deliberate in his movements, it is true, and, as he invariably offered the pack for Fair to cut, there — .» seemed on the surface no chance of crookedness. But Dick knew instinctively that the game was crooked, and the boy was being defrauded. Watch- ing, he saw Clay and Carlin play into each other’s’ hands more than once, something which would have’ aroused the suspicions of one wiser than Lance Fair. — At intervals they permitted Lance to win, but always | “set-backs,” and steadily he went, farther and farther behind. Onc on his own deal he smudged, in spite of the fact that Carlin brazenly renigged and tried to throw the game into Clay’s hand. . At last, losing with six set-backs against him in one game, the boy pushed the cards away, his face now quite pale, saying: “T’ll not play any more. I can’t nd it, fellows You know I can’t afford to lose so much.” / Why, my dear chap,” drawled) Dunbar Clay ye ’re av having a little bad luck, ee s all. Ie’ : ore pad “It may open his eyes to the: © Luck had turned against 4 Fit TOL He’s Come, “Clay has just had a little streak, that’s all. usually the easiest man to beat I ever stick to it, Lance. That’s the only way to get even in this world. When you’re behind at anything, you’ve got to hang on until you even up.” The boy shook his head. saw. ~“T—I was a fool to play at all,” he stammered. ‘I “wonder how much I owe!” The sharks exchanged glances. They realized that : the victim would stand for no further plucking, and & so Clay, who had kept the record on a sheet of paper, prepared to figure it. Dick, started with surprise when the man announced : listening and watching, “You're just twenty-three dollars behind, old chap.” Pr: “Twenty—twenty-three dollars!’ gasped Fair. “I didn’t think it was so much.” “Let him look at the record, Clay, e 5 ‘Tet him see it’s perfectly correct.’ Bs “Sure,” murmured the other, pushing the paper Ss toward Fair. “You can figure it up yourself. We _ were playing for fifty cents a corner and fifty a set- back the last of it.” _“T suppose—it’s—it’s all right,” ting his hand into his pocket. Carlin started to gather up the pack of cards. “Wait a minute, gentlemen,” called the voice of _ Dick Merriwell sharply. “Before you settle this mat- | ‘ter, let’s make sure there’s no mistake.”’ 3 said Carlin. 3 ve , muttered Fair, put- - Both those fellows were startled. Turning, they - saw him bending over between them, for he had risen to his feet. Ma - “Merriwell!”, rasped. Carlin. “The devil!” sibilated Clay. CHAPTER IV. RASCALS “EX POSED. watched the game. One was a traveling salesman, whose seat mate was a fat man. Irishman, who had been talking in a rich brogue with a Totigh looking individual who claimed to be a cow arlin’s lips, looked at Dick in surprise. _ At times, various other passengers sitting nearshad Another was’ an. an honest. ie 7 Mancetot Fair, having heard the name which escaped Clay, having lost some of his lange, turned an- WEEKLY. 7 “You're an outsider,” he said. “‘What business have you to butt in?” . ‘The business every man has to see fair play,” turned Dick. “I hope you're not accusing crooked ?”’ re- us of anything - rasped Carlin. “He's ways butting into something.” “I’ve been sitting behind you fellows said Dick, “and it’s my conviction that you were not giving that chap an honest deal.” Carlin started to rise. “Punch him, Clay!” he cried. © Dick’s hand closed on Carlin’s collar, and the fellow sat down with a jolt that made his teeth rattle. “To: blazes with him!’ 41a for some time,” “If I can’t prove my claim,” said Merriwell, “Til apologize most humbly. 9° Tf f can ‘prove at “Begobs!” cried the Irishman. “If yez can prove it, me bhoy, we'll kick thim two thaves av the world off the train, so we will.” “If they are crooks,” ought to be kicked off,” “If they are crooks,” wheezed the fat man, should be tarred and feathered.” “Waugh! " said the traveling man, “they ‘el : exploded the man from Wyoming. iy nched.” The passengers in the car now came ‘crowd around the card players and Merriwell. Clay looked disturbed, but eee to ‘ hes up front.” a “He lies!” he declared. “We re Yale ih an we're playing an sda cis game.’’ Once more cards. Dick’s ee outthrust, pointed at ‘the te boards. : “Better let those things alone,” he ee , want to prove me wrong don’t touch them, not willing they stipald be examined. i Carlin hesitated, and by forced a Letias Dick’s eyés fell on the commercial drimmbr: ; “Will you please pick those cards up?” he ms don’t wish to touch them myself.” he “Why, seageiens said the traveling man bri TIP TOP ’ “T think so. Are there any more?” ; “You've got them all,’ said Carlin. them over to your satisfaction.” “You needn’t bother to inspect the backs of those “ cards, sir,’ said Dick. “I don’t think they’re marked.’ “I said so, didn’t 1?” drawled Clay, ae to re- assume his languid, self-possessed manner. ‘‘You’re making an ass of yourself, Merriwell, and you'll cer- tainly have to settle for the insult.” , “I wish, sir,” said Dick, still addressing the man _ who had the cards, “that you would count that pack.” __ Clay had produced his pipe and pouch of tobacco. He brought the tobacco forth from the side pocket of his coat and began filling the pipe. It seemed that he started slightly when Dick requested the commercial “man to count the cards, but if he was at all disturbed he hid it cleverly. I don’t see any more. “Now look The man with the cards began running them over The passengers carefully, counting, them ‘aloud. watched with breathless interest, which, however, was : faint compared wie the interest and suspense of Lance “Forty-six,” counted the traveling man. “There are only forty-six cards here. Six are missing from the Pack. ” / “Just enough to make. up,a hand,” said Dick. “In the last round Dunbar Clay smudged with an invin- cible hand, whiclf he had prepared while the game was Be frdptess by pilfering cards at intervals from the 9? ¢ ““Tp’s a dirty lie!” lighting his pipe. _ The pipe stem quivered a bit in his teeth, and the flame of the match singed his fingers. “Of course it’s a lie!” rasped Hugo Carlin. “If re are cards missing from the pack we didn’t know rt hing about it. I've been playing off and on with that pack for several days past, and either those cards were lost at some previous time or were removed by some one engaged in a game with them.” aa ‘Begorra, yez make a foine bloof at it, rishman ; “but it’s mesilf as thinks it looks a bit said Clay, striking a match and 3 : ab favor tar and feathers? 1!” roared the man from Wy oming. the train and swing em both toa oe post.” ng 3g individual, ventured to penionatrate. > | ft be too ae gentlemen,” he ee ed muttered — “We'll WEEKLY. must say that the proof of fraud seems insufficient to me: It certainly might be the case that the cards were lost from the pack on some previous occasion.” ’ “And you’re a man of sense, sir,’ drawled Clay. “T’m glad to discover at least one such person on this cary: “In order to settle the point,” said Merriwell quietly, “I would suggest that all three of the card players be searched.” “Now what do you think of that!” cried Carlin. “Of all insults I ever heard that’s the limit! Oh, you’ll pay for this, Mr. Merriwell!’’ “I’m quite willing to be searched,” said Lance Fair. Sea honest man would be under such circum- -was the opinion of the commercial traveler. cried the Irishman. s an insult at all, at all.” peaceable to be “lll hold stances,’ “Sure you're roight, “Thot’s the way to prove av it’s “If the galoots won't stand searched,” said the man from Wyoming, them steady with my pocket hardware.” “Don’t produce a’pistol here,’ fluttered the mild passenger. gerous. unpleasant affair may incite.” “Oh, I don’t reckon thar’ll be any riot, mister. we finds the critters are crooks. we'll yank the bell cord, ae the enjine, and lynch ‘em all sy ane serene.’ ; “Perhaps that’s the way they do in Wyoming,” said the fat man; “but it wouldn’t quite go ir this part of the country.” “Say you so ?”” sor,” inquired the Westerner. “We'll hardly go to such an extreme. feathers would be ‘ubdiat the limit for them.” “Great rattlesnakes! Out in the Carbon country they wend present ’em with a or of hemp neck- ties.’ Siiddenly Dick Merriwell ‘lesa over the ‘ae of | 7 the car seat and, with his right hand, seized the right wrist of Dunbar Clay. Clay had put his hand into’ the side pocket of his coat, and Merriwell caught and, held it there, at the same time gripping the fellow with » his left hand and holding him motionless. “Look here, gentlemen—look here!’’ cried Dick. “He’s, got his hand in his coat pocket. it. T’ve caught it there. I am confident that, a short time ago, he’slipped the cards from his sleeve into. that pocket, and now he’s trying to get them ae and drop ee on. 1 the floor.” 3 “It would be very unwise and very dan-. There’s no telling what sort of a riot this — If “Why, what is the proper method hereabouts of fitting a cou- — ple of card sharps for pine boxes?” Tar ane : Nis Oe ¥ Take note of : Clay was held helpless by a grip of iron, but Hugo Carlin rose and lifted his fist to strike Dick. “Hold on thar!” “Tf you don’t hold hard I'll certainly lead pills!’ His “pocket hardware” Carlin suddenly ing into the muzzle of an ugly-looking pistol. “That’s proper, feller,” said the Westerner. “You want to be as gentle as Mary’s little lamb.” 2 The commercial traveler flung the pack of cards >) down, stooping over Clay to seize the arm held by Dick i Merriwell. The fellow’syhand was withdrawn from his pocket in spite of some resistance, and then the traveling man reached into that pocket. A moment later he produced some cards and held them up. One » by one he counted them and dropped them with the 4. others, six in all. roared the man from Wyoming. fill you full of was in his hand“now, and grew limp, for he found himself gaz- young {?? . “Now may the Old Nick have mercy on thim! 3 tered the Irishman. Clay was deathly pale, and Carlin’ shivering’ and mut- ; ' limp. The evidence of their guilt was sufficient. 1 a Swallowing down a lump in his throat, Clay sought a to force a laugh. . “There’s no damage done, gentlemen,” he said. . “We were simply amusing ourselves, that’s all. This _. young fello . is on his way to enter Yale College, at which we are students. He’s young and raw, and we thought we'd have a little sport y him, , We had no intention of keeping his money.” “Certainly not,” of a drowning man grasping at a straw. mumbled Carlin, reminding them _ “It was simply a little joke for his own good.” _ “We intended,” said Clay, “to make believe that we meant to take his money and then refuse it. You _ him the folly of gambling.” , “Begorra, it’s the koind, ginerous creathures they are!” muttered the Irishman. “Now isn’t it dacent av ~~ thim!” “Rot!” roared the man from Wyoming: They're caught with the goods.” “Yes,” agreed the commercial traveler, “they’re certainly caught with the goods. It’s useless for them to squirm.” _ “That’s right,” lie out of it now.’ | _ “It certainly looks very suspicious,” mild-appearing passenger. _ “Whativir will we do with the spalpanes?” asked 3 e Irishman. nodded the fat man. “They can’t admitted the eb DOP Carlin rushed into the next car, which was one of the see that would give him a lesson—that would show | one red and smarting eye. two panting and frightened fellows was that of mer they Pianges uttered little c cries of terror. es . WEEKLY. “We have no tar and feathers,” said the fat man. “And you won’t lynch the varmints,”’ complained the Westerner. “That being the case, I suggests a little programme. I suggests that we line up between the seats on either side of the aisle and permits them to run the gauntlet after the fashion of Injuns in old times. As they pass along we'll hand them out some- thing to remember us by.” oy “Good! good!” cried the passengers. “That’s the | idea! Line up, everybody! line up!” In short order they were lined up on either side of the aisle and ready. But Clay and Carlin were not disposed to run the 7 gauntlet. Nevertheless, the man from Wyoming ie started them promptly by swearing that he "i rs shoot their ears off unless they moved. 7 Clay started first. Crouching and holding his arms up to protect his head, he leaped forward and ran down the aisle. f Carlin followed a moment later. Every passenger succeeded in thumping or keking 3 them as they passed, and the Irishman ejected a huge mouthful of tobacco juice full and fair into Dunbar Clay’s left eye. There were shouts of laughter as ; the two rascals tore open the door and rushed. out upon the platform of the car. - CHAPTER V. a : A LOST OPPORTUNITY. Battered, bruised, hiuniliated: and enraged, Clay and regular passenger coaches, and nearly ran down the conductor who was coming through. oo aes 4 They presented a somewhat disheveled and surpris- ing spectacle, for their clothes were rumpled and torn, Clay’s necktie and collar had been’ DES loose. were dangling askew, Some one had given. Car lin a smash on the nose, and that organ was bleedin profusely. In short, the general appearance of ‘the who had lately been engaged in a savage bene, tumble fight. Some of the lady passengers in the car into 1 W ABLE “TOP | ~The conductor put out his hands and seized them, demanding : - “Here, you, what's was ‘matter, anyhow? _ happened ?” “Out of the way!” rasped Carlin, pushing against Clay. “Knock him down, Dunbar!” _ But, despite his battered condition and his smarting, ‘ blinded’ eye, Clay noted the conductor’s uniform Kea kept a part of his wits. ‘ We’ e've been outrageously assaulted, conductor,” he _said- furiously. “It’s an outrage for which some one must suffer.” _“That’s right! that’s right!” snarled Hugo Carlin. i 10se thugs’ ought to pay dearly for it.” “Who did it?” questioned the trainman. was it all about, anyhow ?” What’s “What We were set upon by a per fect gang of ruffians in hi smoker,” declared Carlin. “We're Yale students in | gentlemen. Why, one Geeiperade even drew a pis- om us and threatened our lives.” ‘Isn't it dreadful!” exclaimed a lady passenger, sit . neat. ‘They look like gentlemen, and I’m sure y are. It’s perfectly awful to think that there d be such a band of desperate men on this very t's terrible to contemplate what may happen! ” she continued, addressing her husband beside Hsia loditeg little man with a very big nose and y short chin—so short indeed that it scarcely | a chin at-all—“Joseph, you must protect me if yretches invade this car. It’s your privilege and oseph. I think you ghosle ee np the snioker nee and warn them to t to intrude here. d by some one who has the courage to give understand what will happen if they aren't Go at once, Joseph. Assume ad most com- ng air and ‘Speak sternly tothem, \ blinked and tubbed si ae where he should tt io you Bee iat ” Nbaiad bie bie ia ony, ey, to make sure is ee | Joseph. . upon them. remain where they are. I It is best that they should be | WEEKLY, opportunity. This is the occasion. Rise to it, Joseph ‘ —rise to it.” But, although she sought to push him from her into the aisle, he grabbed the arm of the seat with his hands and’ braced his feet, remonstrating earnestly. “Be calm, Dorothy,” he said. “Don’t get so wrought up. Be calm, I beseech you. This is no time | for me to desert you and leave you alone and unpro- — tected. My place is at your side, my dear. Why, it’s possible those scoundrels have boarded this train for — the purpése of holding it up. It’s possible they’re divided into two parties, and some of them have come aboard at the other end of the train. IfI should leave — you now and enter the smoker, ruffians might invade this car from the opposite direction, and then who ._ knows what would happen? Then who would defend you from them, my dear? You wait and watch your If they came here, if they dare to show them- _ selves, I shall rise in my wrath and lay violent hands — V'll throw them out of the windows, © Dorothy. I say let them come if they dare!” In his excitement he had risen to his feet: and was. glaring at the door by which Clay and Carlin had entered. He even lifted this clinched fists and shook them at that door, posing for a moment in the cities ‘ ‘of Thorshurling the thunderbolts. The door was flung open with a bang, and a man leaped in. Instantly Joseph dropped between the seats, | uttering a squawk of dismay, and thrust his head, ostrich-like, beneath his wife’s skirts. aa “Josephtown, Josephtown,” cried the brakeman who had entered. | . eae “That's tight,” laughed an niles traveler; “Jo seph’s down under the seats somewhere.” | , Joseph’s better half pulled her skirts acids and ao her lord and master by the ear, exclaiming 4 “Get up here, you cockroach! Don’t you hear the saying Joseph’s down? Shame on you! Is this the way you w vould defend your poor, pepe wife from those ruffians ?” | “T_T lost my ftawes, } gasped the little man. movement of the train upset me. Ow-wow! Dorot “Vou if dear, don’t pull so hard! You'll take my eat: off bis tet my oe 3 a9? TIP TOP who had lately entered, almost everyone on the car burst into hearty laughter. The conductor, however, was attending strictly to re business and seeking from Clay and Carlin a statement £ |. © of what had happened in the smoker. ae Clay told the story, coloring it to favor himself and his companion. According to his statements they had ‘been assaulted and abused while playing an innocent game of cards. The charge of cheating, he averred, Was simply a pretext by which a man named Merriwell had aroused the smoker’s passengers against them. «Toward Merriwell and the man from Wyoming who had drawn a pistol, Carlin was especially bitter. “We're gentlemen,” he persisted, “and sons of in- fluential citizens who will be certain to take up this matter ,and investigate it thoroughly. If this road permits its passengers to be treated in such an out- Tageous manner, doubtless my father will carry the matter into the courts.” 2 “Ll investigate, myself,” promised the conductor. “Come back with me and point out your assailants.” “Go back into that car?” cried Clay. .“Face that - gang of desperadoes again? Not for mine.” ~ “Not much,” said Carlin.’ Ue “But Pll accompany you,” said the conductor. “If you wish me to do anything you must point out your assailants.” “It’s my opinion,” declared Clay, “that every man | in that car joined in the assault’upon us. They stood in line between the seats on each side of the aisle and - mauled and kicked us as we passed.” | “How, dreadful!” breathed Mrs. Joseph. “Can _ such things be? Joseph, those two unfortunate young men are afraid to return to the smoker unprotected. You should accompany them. It’s your duty to see that peaceable gentlemen are supported and sustained gainst such wretches. At anc you have the -_Oppor- tunity to do something. Do it.’ “T will,’ declared Joseph resentfully, as he tenderly rubbed his,ear. “I'll stand my ground ‘right where Tam, madam. Stop pushing! Take your knuckles out of my ribs before you give me a crick in the side. As Shakespeare says, ‘Discretion is the bet- ter part of valor.’ If I prove that I’m discreet I shall likewise prove that I am valiant.” z ’ scoffed his spouse, in s no doubt about that. The last “Oh, you're discreet enough,’ teat scorn. “There’s WEEKLY. ‘doubt about it. I'll remain ‘time I thought I heard bur glars in the house you. crawled under the bed looking for them, and t had to! as e evoke a ‘smile from a eee nee. At re you're a coward. You haven't as much genuine cour-_ age as a cosset lamb.” ‘Now, Dorothy—now don’t get to going on. Don’t have one of your’ tantrums, for goodness’ sake! Re- member where you are. Remember you’re beneath the eyes of gaping passengers. If you work yourself up you'll certainly have a heart spell, and that will mean more doctor’s bills. I can’t stand it. You're ruining me with doctor’s bills.” | s “That’s like you!” squawked the woman. “You're — always thinking of yourself. You're always thinking _ about money. The first thing that pops into your head when I’m taken ill is how much it will cost to calla ~— doctor. Joseph, you’re not only as cowardly as a — sheep, but you’re as cold and cruel and hard-hearted as—as a Bengal tiger. Such a man for a woman to be hitched to! Such a man for an unfortunate woman — to be bound to for life! Oh, dear me! I’ve got a pain. Get my campfire bottle out of my reticule— get it quick. Fan me this instant! Bring me a glass” of water at once! Support my head. Oh, this is i ee cruciating !” “Holy pickerel !” spluttered Joseph. “bidwia in thats teration am I going to do all those things at once? It would take ten men to wait on you when you have one of these spasms.”’ “Then let me die—let me die, you heartless brute!” moaned Mrs. Joseph, as she sank over into the corne “You'll get rid of me at last, and that’s what you want. You’re anxious to bury meso you can marry again All the young girls are running after you, the sham less things! They would snap you up in a minute if. they could get you. I know of several who are wait ing for you. doe expecting me to drop off sud- denly. I suppose you've bold them I’ve got heart dis- ease and I’m liable to die any minute, There’ s no I know you have. But I won’t die she suddenly cried, sitting up. “I'll fool them. won't let them have you. I'll continue to live an make you toe the mark like.a husband uate Where are you going?” | “After a glass of water for you, my dei, NESE SS “No, you don’t!” she cried, grabbing him and j ing him back into the seat. “You stay right here I’ve seen you looking round at that shameless huss) 1 the opposite side of the car. I know what you wan You want to flirt with her, You want to smile at her I’ve seen her smiling at you. You can’t deny it.’ 7 It was not surprising that any lady passenger have smiled at Joseph, for his appearance was uff ou Hamat find 1 men in every coer in the country,” Such fellows are bound to et i e is no “exception. i haste” Dick, Cou wee: foolish to hela } eet and apes be foolish to raat — "The way. ies laughed at me > made me > feel A pe% My “but when I WEEKLY. A man shows his real courage when he refuses to weaken before the scoffing and laughter of such fellows. Lots of young chaps go wrong in various ways because they haven’t the nerve to stand a little chaffing. chaffed into drinking against their will, and who have acquired the tippling habit because of such foolish weaknesses. It’s the same about card playing. Fel- lows who do those things—who drink and gamble and. go the paces—pretend to despise men who do not; but really, down in their hearts, they respect the individual as not just right. with backbone enough to refuse to be jeered into such «— practices. thing. Card playing of itself is not such a heinous If games with cards were ‘always played for amusement alone it would be no more hurtful to play cards than to indulge in other similar mild pastimes. It is simply because there is so much gambling with cards that card playing has got a bad name. Fellows inclined to do such things may gamble over almost — anything. There’s no cleaner on than honest base- ball, and yet one may gamble on any gaine of base- — ball.” a “But they said it wasn’t gambling, you know.” “Of course they did. Many a A fellow excuses this card playing for small stakes by. claiming it is not. real gambling. He asserts that he wagers simply to make it interesting. A game that is not nee enough to watch or to take part in without betting “0 on 4” the result should be shunned as a thing as is harm y ful.” Ae “You must know something about cards, or else you could not have detected them cheating.” Tek do know about cards,” answered Dick. ciety oi ed with them. .1 hai likewise investi: se the tricks of card ae and, asa ean I Hare and yet yields fe to, the tettiptation is weak oeuei t yield still further. The greed of gambling will get. hold on him in time, and in some game in which 1 takes part he will be tempted to cheat also. an opportunity to win a good pot by stealing a from the pack or the discards, or doing some o underhand trick. Perhaps he will resist this me | ay dishonestly. Whehi ‘he has done ‘this he idees' 3 amount of self-respect. _ For the time being 1 mn _ science: Kasi trouble, hima, but he bras I know of fellows who have been. ~ Od Os Cec aar ; TIP. TOP conscience thus defied soon becomes dulled and dor- mant. Unless he is detected and exposed, the chap - who has yielded to such .a temptation is almost certain to develop into a cheat, a rascal, a creature who steals by trickery at cards—for it is stealing, nothing else, It’s just as bad as patting and pilfering his purse.” “Oh, I’d never do anything like that,” protested _ Fair, his face flushed. “I made up my mind after I'd begun to play to-day that. it would be the last tine I’d ever play for money.” your hand in a man’s pocket “I hope it will be, old chap; but I imagine it would not have been if you had not discovered the rascality of your game mates. You would have paid your losing and felt bad over it; and some time they would have _ lured you into another game, and you would have _ played, in hopes of winning back what you had lost. : That’s the way thousands of fellows do. They think _ they will get even, and so they keep on playing. But) _eyen if they do get square, they don’t stop. If they — have the misfortune to win and get ahead of the game it creates within them a fever for gambling—a fever they can’t resist. They keep at it. heard of my Brother Frank?” “Oh, yes, indeed.” a r “The oe the desire to gamble, was one of the things | 1e had to fight hardest against. He told me about it himself. He conquered the inclination. At college you'll encounter many other temptations. ' The only thing to do is what your conscience tells you is right. Refuse to be inveigled into anything which you rey en fancy may, be’ wrong. Oh, you'll make mistakes, we all do. If we didn’t, we’d be almost too per- fect for this world. . We make our mistakes and regret them afterward. If we’re wise, we let them teach us a lesson.” ? Have you ever “But you—do you ever make mistakes?” - Dick Merriwell laughed. “Lots of times,” he confessed. “I’ve done scores of things of which I was afterward ashamed, but al- ways Pye tried to remember my experiences as a warn- 3 ng pease Petey such blunders. I saw you - ‘dream you were bound for Yale Have va friends eeremrasioes in New Haven?” | ‘Let trie be vanes friend, Fair. When you ees 4 | WEEKLY. to know yon, but I never dreamed we’d—we'd become —friends so quickly.” Dick smiled. . “TI like you, Fair,” he said honestly. “Of course the — fact that I shall be a senior and you a freshman will prevent us from seeing very much of each other. I ‘shall be awfully busy, too. I know what it means. We've simply got to beat Harvard at football this — year, and the coach will have us out and at it as soon as" possible. If I seem to forget you, don’t forget me. Come round and hunt me up some time at Durfee.” “J will,” said Lance. “It’s splendid of you to invite mie.”’ . ! “And if you get into trouble don’t delay about com-— ing round,” beak “T suppose I'll be hazed. I’m expecting that.” “You may be, but the sort of hazing you will have to. take won't hurt you. Don’t squeal. Take your medicine like a man, and you won’t find it ae bitte You'll win respect in that way also.” “I suppose Clay and Carlin will have a gredg Beas me?’ si they will trouble you, and I doubt if you see mich either of them after you reach New Haven. In al Probability they will treat you as if you were a tot stranger.” . During the remainder of the journey to New ay Dick and his newly made friend kept together. . . saw nothing more of Clay or Carlin, Fair’s ex e opinion of Merriwell was not harmed by associ with him. Indeed, if possible, it grew, for Dick one to whom the old saw “familiarity iam: ( tempt” could not be applied. a It was dark when the nee rolled into the s sta at New’ Haven. men who seemed eagerly laskuie for some ‘one. sight of Dick upon the Platform the crowd g - shout. “There he is!” ae roared. is Dick descended and was grasped i his enthu shake his ted ide was surrounded by the « old miliar faces. Buckhart, of course, was there sO. .: away with springy step. TIP TOP a 14. of the throng of Yale men, who packed close about him. Lance dropped off the train, suit case in hand, _ found a truckman to whom he gave his trunk check, and then started out to seek the house on York Street _in which he was to room. “T’m a fortunate dog,” he muttered, as he strode “It was great luck to meet _ and become friendly with a man like Dick Merriwell.” CHAPTER VII. _THE FELLOW WHO PLAYED THE FLUTE. ca _ Suffering from his first bitter attack of homesick- ness, Lance Fair sat in the little hall room of the house on York Street and tried to study. | Tn the room adjoining a fellow was torturing a lute, and, to add to Fair’s misery, the ae persisted in try- ing to play “Home, Sweet Home.” “Oh, jingoes!” groaned Lanee, plugging his ears vith his fingers. “I wish he would stop! He will drive me crazy! Home, sweet home! That’s what’ I ft to come to this!” He had passed in his exams all right, which should have made him very happy; but, to confess the pitiful - truth; he was extremely sorry. For at the last moment fter getting settled in that cramped, poorly furnished eg room and | realizing that four years of life away Tail a : oe he had been envied by a village fade and ould not also go to Yale; but somehow the lure and mour of a college career had waned and faded and : e d to eet cold and sombre after the arrival it every boy who leaves home fog the frst time ( _faces a protracted absence from the old familiar c suffers more or less from nostalgia ; and for _ Particularly is this true re was WEEKLY, ing: distraction and diversion by means of the strange, unfamiliar, lively scenes about him. It is true that the loneliness which attacks one in a crowded city is even more severe and crushing than the loneliness that may be felt in the country. To be, alone, to have no frierids, no acquaintances amid great crowds who pass you by as if you were a thing of no account whatever, a stick, a stone, or a cast-off boot, is to sometime experience a realization of the full depth of loneliness. a To be sure, Fair had met Dick Merriwell and made . his acquaintance, but after reaching New Haven it did not take Lance long to discover that there was a tre- mendous yawning gulf between the unsophisticated freshman and the grave, dignified, worldly-wise senior. Dick had invited the boy to call on him in Durfee, and once Lance got as far as the steps of the dor- mitory. Some well-dressed fellows surveyed him superciliously, and falteringly he ventured to ask them. if Mr. Merriwell was in. The tallest man in the group winked at the others as he replied: : “Mr. Merriwell—Mr. Richard Merriwell? Yes, 1 think he’s in. I believe he is entertaining callers. If I’m not mistaken, just at present Andrew Carnegie | and J. Pierpont Morgan are seeking his advice upon the matter of founding libraries and paying seventy- three thousand dollars each for almost Old Masters.” “That’s right,” nodded a, solemn, dignified chap; “and Carnegie and Morgan should be ashamed to take ~ up so much of Mr. Merriwell’s valuable time, especially _ as several very notable personages, like Lord Morti- mer Duxbury, Admiral Togo, and Chuck Conners are ~ all waiting patiently in the anteroom for a brief inter- view. It’s really outrageous that such insignificant ; people should persist in bothering Mr. Merriwell as — they do.” Lance turned and “beat it” for York i hth, Not ; that he fancied for a moment that the persons men- tioned were really calling on Merriwell, but he had suddenly seemed to realize his own presumption in ven- _ turing to take up any of the time of the most popular man in Yale. upon the train, but Fair had seen the great crowd of — | fellows who waited to welcome him at the station, and. with all those friends around him it was but natural, : it seemed, that he should forget the unknown country boy with whom by chance he had been thrown in con- tact. Perea" oN “T suppose he’d see me,” thought Lance; “but that would be simply out of decency on his part. He wouldn’t care,a rap about me, and, being busy, Merriwell had been kind and friendly _ | TIP TOP rather I kept ae I’m a freshman and he’s a Senior. That settles it.’ And so Lance was alone in his room, seeking to for- » . get his wretchedness and trying hard to study, while the fellow in the room adjoining executed “Home, Sweet Home”’ on the flute in a manner that would have ‘justified his own execution. / After a time, the flute player paused. “Thank goodness!” breathed Lance. “What a tfe- lief! If ne keeps this up Pll have to move, for 1 can’t stand re os He was again seeking to apply himself to his book when the man with the flute broke ovit in a new spot. This time it was “The Last Rose of Summer,” and, if possible, it was even more doleful and heartrending Bey than the previous performance. rT Dasa pekcsiiass og er Ere he was aware what he was doing, Lance hurled | the book at the door between the two rooms, at the same time yelling : | ; “Shut up, confound you!” / The piping of the flute ceased witha sharp, remon- - strative squawk of surprise. “Hey?” cried the fellow in the next room. “What's ‘the matter with you?” \ .. “There must be something serious the matter with you,” retorted Lance. “Waal, I like that!’ came the retort. “Well,” said Fair, “I. don’t like your music.” “Don’t you?” drawled the voice of the unseen man. | “You must be a critter to shun. You know old Shake- speare says that , ey The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night And his affections dark as Erebus; Let no such man be trusted.’ ” “Music! ” scoffed Fair. ; -_*Sartainly, was the answer. “And I will xiv a soften ag or : bend a knotted oak,’ it t doesn t aa to >» es as eae Lance. you any sympathy, ee suffering humanity ?” oy Lets of it,” riles me a heap. practicing I shall come round and spank you.” was the answer ; WEEKLY. “Why don’t you see a doctor?’ “Do you edit that | music?” A ae “but a sassy cub like — If you interrupt me again aoe “Are you going to practice some more now?’ ; cried “You bet Iam, by hocus!” “Then just wait a minute and I’ll get out. PI go hunt for lodgings somewhere else.”’ | Fair was in earnest about: getting out, and he made ~ haste to seize his cap. As he stepped outside his‘own door his neighbor appeared at the door of the adjoin- ing room. They looked at each other, | The flute player. was rather tall and angular, with long: straw-colored hair and a face that was not at all: unpleasant. He was in his shirt sleeves. : “Air you teally going out on account of my flute playing?” he asked. a . “Iam,” assured Lance. ee “Tt must be Piss ty bad.” a6 aac; “Don’t you think there’ 8 any chance for me to i im- prove?” ~ | : im vA great chance.” ts The stranger looked somewhat downcast, and tl e he grinned. In spite of himself, Lance smiled. | “What's your name?” asked the tall fellow. 7 “Lancelot Fair.” ? | eee T’m from Jordan, In “Mine’s Sampson Elwell. diana,” ’ ) “T’m from Wampsville, New York. na “Never heard of that place.” | 3 -“T never heard of Jordan, Indiana.” page “Jordan is purty nigh Terre Haute. Canterpoint the nearest railroad town. I’m a Hoosier, you I've been in Terre Haute a good mary: times and 3 Indianapolis once or twice. Thete’s a city for you, b hocus—Indianapolis! This. old settlement is a bac * country village” side it. So you don’t like.1 hey?” eka eae Rods I do.” and ‘tak around and ae at me, “Mebbe my selections you objected to?” “Without wishing to offend you, Elwell, 1 confess that i aid not regard your laying as m to cheergme up.” “And you made me Jonesomer than over cheer yourself up.” “Do you get lonesome?” Bie GS os _ “Frightfully.” RR Asc ee Or Fit ee: here. ‘Ros half fi _ body to chin with. Say, if you'll be seciable and talk to me, I won’t play the flute any more—to-day.” “Agreed,” cried Lance. This was the manner in which they became ac- quainted. CHAPTER VIII. THE HAZING COMMITTEE. “Sampson Elwell proved to be a pleasant, genial sans with a certain dry, humorous manner of speech which cannot be reproduced in\cold type. It lay more _in the expression of his face and the inflection of his ‘voice than in anything else, and manly of his sayings spoken by another would have seemed cominonplace, and lacking the faintest trace of humor. They amused ; Fair, however, who formed a pronounced liking for the lanky Hoosier, and it*was not long before the two were real chums. es They secured from Mrs. Sparrow, the lady of the house, the key to the door between their rooms, and thereafter this door stood wide open the greater part of the time. : “By hocus!” said Elwell; “I was wishing myself k in Jordan and trying to drown my sorrers. by tickling the flute when you set up the rumpus that made us acquainted with each other.” iB “T was so homesick that I was almost dead, con- fessed Lance. “Your offering of ‘Home, Sweet Tome’ filled my cup to overflowing.” “But don’t you really think I can learn to play the lute first rate if I keep at it?” asked nae anxiously. “Perhaps you id ” admitted Fair, ‘ doesn’t murder you.” 7 “Gosh! I guess it’s purty bad. Still, I’m a sticker n I git at a thing. Considering you, I'll try to do st of my practicing when you're out. If you happen : “be in you'd better plug up your ears with cotton atting. How'd you happen to come to Yale, any- how?” “There were various reasons tir I chose Yale. It s always seemed to me like the greatest college in ‘country. Then, you know, there was the chance eeting Dick Merriwell.” | Hey? So you’ ’ve heard about him, have yef? Say, was one thing why I chose Yale. My folks would preferred Harvard. We argued over it a right | bit. ‘They 1 made lots of points in favor of Har- Pat J I aye ye I, ‘The ae eae in this 99 TIP TOP WEEKLY “if some one e oe and pene while I’ve = ao ae ie: the one ‘at which Dick Merriwell is now a student.’ ¥ You'd orter heard them laugh at that. They seemed < to think ‘twas a joke that Yale should be made famous by the Merriwells. My big Brother Ben warned me 3 not to make any such talk as that to anybody after I ‘ got here. He said they’d think me a jackass.” “I don’t know about that. It seems to me that Dick Merriwell is a very popular man.” : 3 “Pop’lar—you bet he is! I’ve seen him. I took a pains to get a look at him just as soon as I could after a : landing here. He’s a pretty swagger chap, and 1 3 s’pose he’s rather swell-headed.” 7 | “No, he isn’t.” \ “How’d you know?” “I’ve met and talked with him.” “You have?” x “Sure.” ; ae “How’d that happen ?” Fair told the story. “Thunder!” exploded the Hoosier youth. “Wasn't that an adventure! And he actually showed up them card sharps, did he? ‘That’s just what I'd expect of : him. He’s right up to snuff, that feller. And you say, ney he was friendly and invited you to call on him?” cae eee ; ee JF “And you ain’t never called?” . b “Not yet. I went round to do so one day, but I — lost heart and backed out. You see, I realize that he’s - om busy all the time, and he couldn’t bother much with a freshman. He has an awful lot of friends, you know.” “I’ve heard he’s got some enemies, too.” “T don’t see why he should have.” FE dot" “Why ?” “Do you s’pose fellers like that Clay and Carlin are going to feel particklerly friendly toward the chap that showed ’em up? His enemies must be principally of that class. It’s right likely, too, that there’s a lot” of aoe who are jealous of him because he’s so pop’ - are: Men like that can’t cut much ice here.” “You never can tell, Lance. Sometimes they have a heap of influence. Sometimes they kick up a big disturbance. Have you ever seen anything of oe and Carlin since reaching this towg?” _ “T’ve seen them both at a distance. I thought it “ best to keep away from them.” — | 4 “I’d never turn off the pike for critters of tha - calibre. You and me ain’t much alike, though. You’ re. OT se Vn I’ve been looking for trouble ¥ sition when I’m riled. lately.” “What sort of trouble?” “Hazing. Honest and true, I’m disappointed. I ree) kind ‘of reckoned that freshmen would get it good and hot, but nothing has happened. ‘There used to be a heap of hazing, but it seems sort of dying out. Tell you honest I don’t think college life is what it was fe) -onice,”’ Fair laughed. | “Are you really disappointed because you haven’t been hazed?” he asked. 2 “Ruther,” nodded Samp. “Still, I’m hopeful. Mebbe ’tain’t as bad as it seéms. Mebbe we'll catch it ‘ yet. Let’s not despair.” They were due to “catch it” all right. That very day while crossing the campus they encountered a knot of sophomores. : “Take off your caps, freshies!” cried one. Elwell hesitated, but Fair promptly complied. “Excuse me,” drawled the Hoosier, “if I’m some- what reluctant to expose this faded topknot of mine. | However, seeing it’s you, I s’pose I will.” EE ; _. He lifted his cap a moment, but returned it promptly tohishead. # | “Take off that cap and keep it off!’’ cried the leader of the sophomores sternly. - In the background Lance Fair idsciniiced two fel- lows who were looking on. He started a bit as he recognized Clay and Carlin. “T’ve just had a shampoo,” drawled the youth ‘from Indiana, “and I’m subject to colds in the head. If I _ catch cold P’ll come on to you fellows for the doctor’s _ bill.” But he took his cap off once more and held it in his _ “That’s right,” said the spokesman of the sopho- mores. “Whenever you meet an upper classman re- ‘move your cap.” ’ “All right,” grinned Samp. “Sir!” exploded the sophomore. “Thank ye,” nodded Samp. “Say sir.” “Oh, waal,if you’re going to be so fussy about it I'll say sir. You're awful pertickler, ain’t yer?” “Don’t talk so much with your mouth. your name?” . Elwell gave his name. TIP TOP WHEREY. hand. : a What’s | , “Where do you room?” This question was likewise answered. “And you?” said the sophomore, turning his eyes on Fair; “where do you room?” “Same place,” said Lance. “Say sir!” thundered the sophomore. “Sir,” chirped Fair, smiling. “Wipe that smile off your face: Your manners are rank. You have a great deal to learn.”’ “Yes, sir,” murmured Lance. “Elwell and Fair, you will be in your rooms at five p. m. to- day, at wie) hour an important committee will call upon you.” “Tha-anks,” drawled Samp. “Don’t forget the sir.” “No, sir, I won’t forget the sir, sir.” ; “You're a very fresh young freshie, and you need to’ be salted. Say. in your politest manner, ‘I’m very fresh, and I think salting will do me good.’ ” cia “You are very. fresh,” said Elwell, “and I pies 3 salting will do you good.” § “Here! here! That’s not the way. to say it! Repo that os and substitute the pronoun of the first per- son.’ uy: “By heck!” said Sampson. “I’m an awful blunderer. I hope you'll ’scuse me. I, sir, ath very fresh, sir, and, sir, I need salting, sir. Does that satisfy your majesty, sit?” ie ag In spite of himself, Fair giggled. “Cut it out!” rasped the spokesman of the cophs. a “Don’t dare smile on your ‘life !’” “T wasn't,” face—sir.” “You may pass pn, but don’t forget to be in your rooms at five p. m.’ “By jinks, old feller!’ declared Samp, as they passed beyond earshot of the sophomores; “there’s aes 8 to be _ something doing, after all. I reckon we’re due to. catch it good and proper.” oe ” said Fair. murmured Lance; “I was smiling on ee “We may catch it too good and proper, side?” A “y ep, I seen’ them.” “Say I saw them, Samp. Seen is simply awful ' way you sometimes use it.” . “T s’pose ’tis. I’m rotten careless in my spee Lanée. What do nO spose we’re Mp son ne Tiere “Waal, mebbe we’d better remonstrate. Mebbe we'd _ better raise objections.” “That wouldn’t do any good.” “Then we'll fight.” That would be worse still. io we'd better submit.” me “We can submit first and fight afterward, can’t we?” ee a don’t want to fight. I can’t fight, Samp; it isn’t in 1 me. I suppose I’m ee in manhood on that ac- Whatever we have to “ogg it’s absolutely necessary, old feller, I'll do the fighting for you. I take great pleastire in a good scrap. Out in Jordan I had to wallop ’most every fel- ler in town before I could get along peaceable. You , arter I’d got mixed up with one or two and mmed ’ em, all the rest wouldn’t be satisfied till y'd had a go with me, and that kept me purty busy or a ) while. Don’t you get the notion that I’m going und with a Ante on ee ees and for fight, phomores called on F air and Elwell. One of as brought a bundle under. his arm. cpbrella tvisich teal been blown eee out. The ider of the hazing committee, whose name was Os- ; caused me bundle and the largest hatbox to be. arm, ~ Elwell, you must see that sci “fain com- aes oe om the ia of the ‘sun: , wh an fase sles will be Sie vies ; tg Aas ind to Gena may oe Sotises in such a rig as this!” Whbther carried two. WEEKLY, CHAPTER IX. THE INSULT. Opening his bundle, Fair spread out the contents, a short skirt and a woman’s jacket of a style long aban- doned. There were likewise a ridiculous pair of gloves. The hatbox contained a huge, weird creation of the milliner’s art. Looking at these garments, Lance laughed and then grew serious. xe . “It’s rubbing it in on the sore spot,” he said. “Everybody tells me how much I look like a gitl, and that makes me sick. Now these fellows want me to ~ dress up in these weird feminine garments and exhibit | ‘ myself on the campus. I say, ve am I a sissy?” “T ain’t jest took you to be that,” answered Elwell, . “though you do look rather sweet at a i and you. certainly blush like a girl.” “T’d give a hundred dollars if I.didn’t blush,” ceiaeh Fair. “It makes me sick! I’d give a great deal more than that—if I had it—if I looked as tough and husky. and masculine as a river driver. I’ve tried to get” tanned up and shake this delicate complexion of mine;- but every time I try it I burn my nose and it peels and the skin comes off my face, and I can’t get a tan to. save me. Jingoes! I do hate to make a fool of myself : “Waal,” drawled the Hoosier, “if you don’t ee to do it we’ll jest decline, that’s all. We won’t show up. We'll let ’em wait ous there till they get oo an tired—and then some.’ et “Tf we do that,” said Lance, “we'll make no end of trouble for ourselves. They'll be sure to make us suf- fer for it. No, Samp, I think the best thing we cant do is to, obey ore like little lambs.” | Sint Het smart, ia you know we was give on twelve eres 0 make our ‘pearance.” "bd mar. tie won't tales me a uate to get cadre all they’ve left me to wear is this old silk ae looks like it was re nee back in Beet y-o7ies', jaceauses is seule for the amusement of the gai | populace.” | ) Bye R INO Nor did it take long for Fair: to ‘ives skirt over his hips, he squeezed himself into the < quated jacket, clapped ‘the huge plumed hat. upon head, tied the ribbons ay is Seer and took: Hooking th TIP TOP WEEKLY. across the floor, mincing his steps like a girl who was trying to be very nice indeed. His assumption of exaggerated feminine manners caused Elwell to roar. “You sartainly are a sight, Lance,’’ shouted the Hoosier. “I swan, you could fix yourself up in she- male toggery and fool almost anybody. You could pass yourself off as a real girl. But don’t you try it, for I’m afeared I’d get gone on you myself. Are you ready, Daisy?” “All ready, Algernon, dear,” simpered Fair shyly. “Then we'll go forth and lemonade across the cam- pus arm in arm, my darling. If any rude student feller tries to flirt with you, by hocus, I’ll poke him in the eye with my umbrill.” Arriving at the campus gate near the corner of Elm and High, they discovered a great gathering of stu- dents, mostly sophomores, awaiting their appearance. For a moment Fair hesitated and drew back, but, pull- ing his chum’s hand through his arm, Elwell spoke low words of encouragement, and amid a storm of cheers and much laughter they carried out the orders of the hazing committee. Down the full length of the _ walk, lined on either side by college men, they strolled, Samp beaming on his shy and blushing companion, _ while he carefully held the ruined umbrella above Fair’s head. Apparently they had neither eyes nor _ears for any one save each other. Giggling and blush- ing, Lance occasionally glanced sidewise at his escort and then dropped his lashes coquettishly, causing the _ spectators to burst forth in renewed applause and mer- * riment. ay | “The minute we get clear of this bunch,” muttered f Samp in Fair’s ear, shelter of our retreat on York Street, - Lance?” ~ “Can I! Just give meachance.” © ° “He does Jook like a girl, doesn’t he?’ said one of the spectators. ree He should have been born one,” said another; and the voice ‘of the second speaker gave Fair an un- pleasant, start. ‘“He’s a perfect sis. an atom of manhood about him.” Can you run, _ The words were spoken loudly and in a manner which plainly indicated that they were intended for Fair’s ears. The flush in the cheeks of the boy from Wampsville suddenly faded and was followed by an aa tense pallor as his blue eyes shot a glance at Hugo Carlin. At Carlin’s elbow stood Dunbar Clay, smok- ing his brierwood, a contemptuous sneer on his face. t a not a fighter, Lance would have given a “we'll hoof it hot-foot for the He hasn’t got “1959 Elwell likewise heard Carlin’s insulting words, and his eyes sought the fellow out. Instantly he was quiv- ering with wrath, and, had not Fair gripped his arm tighter and whispered a warning which checked the words. on his lips, he would have made a stinging re- tort. Reaching the corner of Chapel and College Streets, Elwell flung aside the old umbrella, and the two fresh- men fled for their rooms, followed by shouts of laugh- 5S ter from the crowd left behind. In Samp’s room Fair tore off the jacket and skirt and snatched the hat from his head, kicking it into a corner, “There!” he cried fiercely; “that’s the end of that business, and I must say it’s hazing of a sort I don’t relish. I’d rather be tarred and feathered than repeat the performance. If this is what hazing at Yale has degenerated into, the good old days gone by certainly were better. I’m no fighter, Samp Elwell, but I will fight before I’ll make such another fool of myself.” “Who,” inquired Elwell, “was your friend who handed out the remark about your being a sissy?” | “That was Hugo Carlin. The fellow: smoking | Sa who stood near him was Dunbar Clay.” “A couple of cheap cheats. Lance, you’ve got more man in your little finger than either of them nes in hi whole body.” 3 “Thanks, Samp; but your hisking so doest? t itedee Carlin’s insult any pleasanter to swallow. I'd like to get back at them. I’d like to show a those fellow 9? up. Such things happen. You just wait.” CHAPTER X, THE STREET ENCOUNTER. vited Lance to take in the show with him that nig . Late in the afternoon it rained heavily, but stoppe shortly before it was time to start for the theatre. _ Ee On their way they came upon a number of - fellows who were lined up at both sides of the walk, forming a lane through which people \going to tt ne, must pass. These chaps were 0g to pass, the lounging youths made remarks of : aes to attract atigation: te. themselves. 20 TIP TOP When Lance and Samp reached this gantlet of mashers it chanced that there were two girls a short distance ahead of them. One of the line along the curbing stepped out in front of the girls, pretending not to see them, and stopped suddenly in such a man- ner that they came near colliding with him. “Oh, pardon me,” he laughed, carrymg his hand to his derby; “I didn’t notice you.” “Don’t see how you could overlook a pair of peaches like that,” said another chap coarsely, as he started to join the first. “Are you going to attend the performance, girls?” asked the one who had stopped them. ‘My friend and I are going to take it in, too. We might arrange it at the box office to get all our seats together and make a nice sociable little party. What do you say?” But the gitls were highly indignant and attempted tO pass On, Samp Elwell was also indignant. “Of all dirty, ungentlemanly tricks that’s the limit!” he exclaimed, striding forward. ‘Where are the cops? These mashers should be pinched.” “That’s right,” agreed Lance, fully as angry as his chum, “Fellows who will annoy ladies on the street in that yee certainly prove how little manhood they possess.” | The girls shot grateful glances at Elwell and Fair, and, dodging quickly past the mashers, made for the entrance of the theatre. The two freshmen found themselves face to face with Clay and Carlin. “Here’s that sissy and his running mate,” cried Hugo. “There’s something coming to them.” “That’s right,’ agreed Clay, “and here’s where they get it,” He whistled a sharp signal, and in a éwialcling the freshmen were surrounded by six or eight fellows ot the same stamp as Clay and Carlin. “Give it to °em!’’ was the cry. The freshmen were hustled hither and thither by that bunch, being thumped and pounded mercilessly. With a roar, Samp Elwell let loose his fists. His first blow knocked a chap down, and the second sent another staggering. ‘Then some one tripped him, and while he was on his knees his coat was jerked oyer his head, following which he was. kicked and rolled into the gutter. | | Fair was treated even more roughly, although for a few moments he ptit up a resistance that astonished himself. Outnumbered as they were, the freshmen got the worst of it. Beadd a in A Mt BM ee A Ry a eh Hae fh WEEKLY. however, they realized that something Apparently the attack upon them had Suddenly, had happened. Gathering themselves up from the muddy, they stared in wonderment at the scene ceased. slimy gutter, before them. ‘Two young men had hurled themselves at the assail- ants of the freshmen, and they were making the en- tire crowd “go some.” “Whoop!” roared a voice. “Soak Tap ’em on the snouts! Biff This "em, pard! ‘em in the blinkers! sure is a pleasant diversion for the Unbranded Mave- rick of the Pecos. Look out, Dick; galoot behind you !”’ The speaker was swinging his fists with telling ef- fect. of Texas, and his companion was Richard Merriwell. | Fair recognized Dick in a twinkling, and,’ despite his recent rough treatment, he sprang up and charged into the midst of the street fight. Elwell was equally prompt to get back into the en- counter, and for a few moments there was a merry old battle. The mashers and their worst of it when some one cried: “The cops! Look out—the cops!” At this warning cry there was a great scampering. Like running rats Clay, Carlin, and the rest of their crowd scattered and vanished in all directions. ‘Two policemen came up. and one of them’ promptly collared Fair and Carlin. The other recognized Mer- riwell, and said: : “Ts it a strate foight you’re in, me bhoy? It’s a bad break for yez.” “Good evening, Maloney,” said Dick. ‘Too bad you didn’t heave along in time to nab some of those cheap mashers.” : “Harris has a pair of thim,” said the policeman, jerking his thumb toward his companion, who was holding fast to the freshmen. “Oh; no, he hasn’t,” said Dick. ‘Those fellows are friends of mine. They were jumped on by the bunch of mashers who were annoying ladies here, and we It was Bradley Buckhart, sailed in to give them a helping hand.” “Fri'nds av yourn, do ye say, me bhoy? Is thot roight? Harris, it’s a mistake. Be after letting the lads go.” At this order Harris released Fair and Elwell. Dick explained the matter to the complete satisfac- tion of the policemen. “Some evening,” said Maloney, “Oi'll git a few ay thim lady-lkillers and lodge thim in the station, so Oi Pinkie, 7 Ci Pehatio itty, 9 STK yada PSE Tha ee dis a neg ayy ahrs IPR Oy tle beast Res old &, hat My ok f ofS oy” Oe Se friends were getting the ee a | f ; ie Bi _ bedaubed clothes. dogs. _ bring your friend. _ little stunt on the campus, and you carried it off hand- - laughed Samp. _ and left. Patiae of girl who passed,”’ TIP TOP 4 ° . } ° will. Oi hope, me bhoy, ye passed out a few foine black eyes to the spalpanes.” “We sure did our best,” grinned Buckhart, “and I’m inclined to believe that one or two of them will carry the marks.” Eagerly Fair thanked Dick Merriwell. . That’s ,. smiled Dick. “Brad and I were more than glad to get.a crack at those cheap 3ut why haven’t you called round to see me? T’ve been looking for you.” all right, old chap § | faltered Lance. “I did come round to Durfee one day, but I backed out at the last minute, thinking it would be a nuisance for me to bother you.” “You shouldn’t have done that. “Ha-have you?” I saw you two fellows doing your somely. I don’t think I’ve met your chum.” “h—oh, excuse me,” stammered Lance. “Mr. . Merriwell, this is Sampson Elwell.” _. Samp shook hands hea rtily with Dick. “Tm right proud to know you, Mr. Mescinell be said. “Heard of you before I ever met Lance, and Pye heard of you a heap since.” \, _ Buckhart was introdueed by Dick and met the fresh- men in his blunt, open, them both like him instantly. “Mr. Buckhart certainly is an elegant scraper,” “T saw him banging that bunch right By heck, it was a sight for sore eyes!” Ty gave me a chance to blow off some ‘surplus team,” grinned the Texan. “I was getting a-plenty rusty and spoiling a heap for a little excitement.” “Those fellows were insulting every good- looking said Fair. ; “Clay, ’ said Dick, “thinks himself a great masher, ‘and that’s a game he practices Fe Some time he'll get up against it good and proper.’ _. “He will so,” nodded Brad. “He will get all that’s ming to him. You hear me warble.” ° ‘We're sights,” il have to change these clothes for another suit.” pane; too,” said Elwell. ather their hinck and attempt ee anes. ‘upon nee = and sae but the mashers had See ane, : Come again and - cordial manner, which made said Fair, looking at. his mud- “We were going to the theatre, but. “That'll make us a ‘ sure you were Miss: Brown.” WEEKLY. CHAPTER XI. ABET ER: BET TEN. Late one afternoon Dunbar Clay, dressed in his | swellest and carrying a cane, stood on the corner of Church and Chapel Streets ogling the girls who passed him. As it was near the dinner hour, there were many. shop girls in the ever-thickening throng. Once or twice Clay -fancied he had made an impression, and — once he fruitlessly pursued a trim little miss as far as the post office. But when he attempted to address her, — she gave him such a look of scorn that he abandoned. his purpose and sauntered back to his former stand on i the corner. ; Barely had he resumed his graceful pose, which he fancied most fetching and effective, when a veiled girl slowly approached as if idly passing that way. Clay” sized her up quickly. She was a trifle plump, but tastily dressed and carried herself well. gduzy veil he caught a glimpse of fresh pink cheeks, and a pair of large blue eyes, which bestowed a single glance on. him and then were suddenly veiled by droop- ing lashes. . : “By Jove!” thought Clay; “here’s something f from the country. She doesn’t look particularly ru either. Still, I'll wager she hasn’t been in the cit: long. This-is the right kind to flirt with, innocent n unsophisticated.” ? we ee softly as brges oN was passing, and touch a hat. He was sure ne was agate in ee and there was no epee that she walked still m slowly. “T’ve got her,” decided the fellow, as he promp swung out and oners forward briskly to reach ly side. he came close beside her. ; “Excuse me,” said Clay, “but isn , this Miss B —_Miss Mabel on of Providence?” * aah, “Oh, no, sir,” was the hesitating answer. made a mistake.” E ’ he pale “yp thought of het pias te mi < beg your pardon again,” fended?” | Poarag ite: no, OF: course not, < said, the i a TP OP WrReEk LY. _ She’s one of the prettiest girls IT ever saw. I felt sure “A very pretty name. My name is Maxwell—Rob- you were her.” ert Maxwell.” The girl suppressed a giggle. ‘ “Are you a student?” _ “That’s very flattering, sir,’ she said. “I’m afraid — Clay hesitated. you're jollying me.” | “Yes,” he finally answered, “I’m a student.” _ “Oh, I assure you I’m not,” protested the fellow, “Oh, I’m very anxious to see the college buildings, : Pan at his success. “Do you live in New Haven?’ but, of course, I wouldn’t think of venturing on to the | _ “No, sir; I’m visiting friends here.” ice hai without an escort.” “May I ale where you’re from?” “Some day,” said Clay, “I’ll show you round.” ~ “North Woodbury.” “Oh, will you, really?’ Haven’t you time to do so | -“T was right,” thought ney; “she’s a country girl. to-day?” 6 ‘Well, she’s really a peach.” Then he spoke aloud : “Why, nun-no, I’m afraid not,” he answered, look-— _ “Are you out shopping this afternoon ?” ing at his watch. “You see, it takes quite a long time “No,” she laughed, “I’m just out walking to see the to see all there is to be seen. I’ve got a little time to people. You know ne don’t see such crowds as this spare. Won't you step into a restaurant with me, and in North Woodbury. have a little lunch?” _ “T presume not. Do you know many people in New “Oh, I couldn’t think of that, Mr. Maxwell. The ! folks will be expecting me home to dinner. I’m aw- | “Scarcely ay one, sir, save the friends with whom fully disappointed because I can’t see the college build- m staying.” ings to-day. Really, I believe I shall see what I can of them alone, if—if you—-won’t act—as my escort.” It was up to Clay. He feared a refusal would of- fend the girl, and, therefore, he decided to take her across the campus and make as hasty a job of it as ~ possible. ( . “That’s the trick to get right with the fair Lucile,” he decided. “Well, Miss Mortimer,” he said, aloud, “although there won’t be time to look around as you should, I'll — escort you across the campus and point out the various PR buildings.” | 2 “It’s splendid of you, Mr. Maxwell,” she giggled. “Let’s hurry, before it gets dark.”’ “And I'll make a date with her after I’ve shia her around,” he decided. ‘They continued to chat in this manner as they. ap- * _ ptoached the college buildings. More and more, the — girl drew close to her escort, and, at times, she actually “Did “ar really: ev she erates as if highly seemed to nestle against him. | eased. “Don’t you know, I was awfully afraid 1 Clay hoped there would not be many coitive men | - upon the campus, but, when they passed through the gate, he was dismayed to discover an unusually large) : crowd gathered in the vicinity of the Fence. me “We won’t be noticed, ” he thought. “Perhaps no-. yet. oe si body will recognize me.’ at “Oh, don’t say that! 3 can t Shelve’ you’ re sincere.” | They were halfway across the campus when a hoes ‘ at give you my word of honor as a gentleman that | of freshmen appeared and came toward them. As if at I’m very glad I mistook you for some one I fan- a signal the crowd by the Fer ence began moving ov nf knew,’and I ee we may — better ace th Ls \ Mi weit be compelled to pale ‘hicaghh the midst of thos | _students, unless he turned back at once. ere “Tt must be rather lonesome.. Haven't you any nice ( pare to takg you et | Npvertiicless, it added in a way to her attraction for Dunbar Clay, as it made her anes ike: ‘one or ‘on oe against’ mashers. ° en “No, indeed,” she said: “I don’t know a single fel- Sa) in New Haven. At home I know two or three nic ice boys. That it, they’re nice in their way, but they don’ t dress as well as city chaps, and they haven’t such legant manners. They all treat _ nice, you ao aie “Hadn't we better turn round, Miss Mortimer ?”’ he asked. “There are a lot of college men out here, and well have to walk through the middle of the crowd.” “Oh!” she said, drawing away from hima bit. “If x eae ea - Soe : you're ashamed to be seen with me iv “It’s not that,’”’ he hastily protested, “only I thought te it might disturb you.” ie “Not a bit, Mr. Maxwell,” she Bates returning to Pi: his side, and cuddling close. a To his dismay, she took his arm. | 1 “Tm in for it,’ thought Clay. ‘I may as well face the music.” | A moment later they were in the midst of those * students. To Clay’s increased dismay, it seemed that 4 every fellow was staring at them. Furthermore, half the crowd was laughing. . “Er——er—no, of course, he doesn’t mean me,” mum- bled Clay. Don't pay any atten- A tion to them.”’ “Let’s walk faster. “But, they’re staring in the rudest manner! Is this the way college men do? I thought they ‘were gen- _tlemen. I’m afraid, Mr. Maxwell.” She gripped his arm, and crowded hard against him. - "Don’t do that, please,” he whispered. “You're - making them laugh at us.” ; _ “Well, I think it’s contemptible for them to laugh. ‘Do you know any of them?” Did he know them! Already he had discovered twenty fellows whom he knew very well. One of cal was _ the fresh aman, Seen Elwell, who was ‘ \ “vou're ‘naktae a jackass f yourself, You’ I] never tihed the last of this. nee girl is no girl, at all. It’s that fool freshman, Fair.” TOP WEEKLY. _ “Hello, Mr. Clay,” cried one. “Who’s your lady panend?”.. <. J -“Mr. Clay!” exclaimed the girl. “He can’t mean you. Your name is Maxwell.’ _ mores the victory. \ _ you could have thrown that Indian, we'd have beat ~~ them.” you know. The sophs were backed by the seniors, < Tf I'd hada thousand dollars, I'd given it 8 that Injun.” Clay seemed EindtidesScneyD: and, ere she could ree fe 23-6 short distance to jerk off a hat, veil, and wig of false hair. | It was, indeed, Lance Fair, and, as the crowd sent up a tremendous shout of merriment, Dunbar Clay longed to sink into the ground. With a.sudden burst of rage, he tried to hit the freshman with his cane; but, gath- ering up his skirts with both hands, Fair fled into. the midst of his laughing classmates. An instant later Clay, likewise, took to his heels. No — one offered to check him, but as long as he lived he could never forget the derisive hoots and shouts of. laughter which they flung after him, Into Welch Hall he dashed, panting up the stairs, and bursting ee room. “T swear I'll be even with that freshman, yet pr he snarled. CHAPTER XII. INTO THE RIVER. On the night of the wrestling matches between the freshmen and the sophomores, the standard of the freshies was valiantly upheld by one Gilligan, from Indiana, whose chief assistant proved to be another: Hoosier, named Elwell. Eventually Gilligan was downed by Joe Crowfoot, and it was Crowfoot who, a few moments later, Ree Elwell, and gave the sopho Lance Fair had watched the wrestling with breathe less excitement. The cheering of the two classes thrilled ‘him. He joined with his own class, and shouted until his voice grew husky. When he saw Samp downed by the Indian, Lance groaned in dismay The ana ae sophomores ste to ‘ee on. Absoing them were Elwell and Pair. “Oh, it was tough luck, Samp,” said Lance. “I did my purtiest,” said Elwell. aC hat “Taj is.z corking wrastler. He’s: a friend of Dick Merriwe that put Merriwell against us. I heard him a them we didn’t have a man who could down Crowfo« a foo 7 me tired, e sed Fair. “Let's | ) _ “He’s sort of out of his head. rs: i Fine The door was opened, and a bearded man, in a heavy, ee long coat and slouch hat, stepped out. “Do you fellows know a student from Indiana?” asked the man. ‘‘There’s a chap from that State who is badly hurt, and he’s calling for some one from Indiana.” ’ “By heck!” exclaimed Elwell; “it must be Gilligan! He was stunned when the Injun threw him. to carry him off.” _ “7 think that’s his name,” said the bearded man. I’m afraid it’s a serious _ matter: The only thing that will quiet him, thé doctor _ gays, is to bring the fellow from his own State that he’s calling for.” , _~ “Mebbe he means me,’ _ diana.” ~ “He must mean you, then. ~ “Come on, Lance,” invited Elwell. if it’s Gilligan, and if he wants me.” * said Samp. “I’m from In- Get into this cab, quick.” “We'll find out ‘ They entered the cab, and the bearded man did. like- | wise, slamming the door behind him. Immediately the driver whipped up the horses, and away they went at a lively pace. _ The curtains of the cab had been drawn so a that only a few flickering gleams of light drifted in be- - neath them. _ “Where is Gilligan?” asked Elwell. - “Tn the house, where he rooms,’ head the man. bur asat fare’ \ “Quite a distance,” was the reply. - Soon the gleaming flashes of the street lights grew ‘The celetiis was stuck, and refused to roll up. gag me try it,” muttered the man. . We' re Sinica shies now,’ He was still trying They had lashing his horse mercilessly. f said the man, and as he ke the cab rolled on to a bridge. | _ Elwell tried to open the door: when the. oe fe and some one outside jerked | TIP > TOP WEEKLY. Samp pitched out, and was seized by waiting hands. The man in the cab gave Fair a jerk and a thrust which sent him after Elwell. They found themselves in the hands of at least a dozen masked and disguised fellows. They were on a long bridge, and could see the line of the water front gleaming in the distance. “Stung!” panted Elwell, trying to put up a fight. “We're tricked, Lance!” Fair, likewise, made a struggle, but they were han- dled without thuch difficulty by their captors. The driver backed the cab around, whipped up his horses, and went rumbling away toward the far end of the bridge. “No use kicking against fate, my fine birds,” exulted one of the masked fellows. “‘You may as well take \ your medicine. It will do you good. We’re going to teach you something. We're going to give you all that’s coming to you.” 2 a The ends of two long ropes were knotted about the. waists of Fair and Elwell. This done, the captives’ were lifted bodily and poised upon the rail of: the. bridge. ? “T_T can’t swim!” gasped Lance. “You don’t have to,” was the mocking . answer. “You'll be pulled out, after we’ve soaked you good — and plenty.” “There’s that cabby coming hack’ now!” cried one _ . of the crowd, as the sound of a galloping horse came “It’s too soon.” from the distant end of the bridge. ort: “Over with these — Ps “Never mind ert ” said afiother. chaps! Let ’em go! An instant later the two freshmen were thrust from — the rail. Down they shot, striking the water with a - double splash. ee On the box of the approaching cab the driver was The cab came vitabllagee : up and stopped near the spot where those masked chaps — were crowded at the rail of the bridge, several of them | clinging to the ends of ‘the ropes whig had ‘been ‘knotted about the bodies of the two freshmen. The moment the cab stopped—even before it came to ; a full stop—it began. shooting forth human. beings from all sides and in all directions. Down from the top, and the seat beside the driver they leaped. F orth from the doors they projected themselves. It eve seemed as if one or two of them crawled out from he- ‘neath the cab, and forever it must remain a marvel that a one-horse vehicle nigh any sort, especially the cone were. With savage shouts they fell upon the ‘as- tounded hazers, tooth and nail. Immediately a wild old free-for-all fight began. Sa ae ee the ropes and turned to defend themselves. _ The tide was running out, and on its bosom it bore Lancelot Fair, struggling desperately to keep afloat, and crying chokingly for help. Vie) * i ; eee Rae a CHAPTER XIII. THE RESCUE AND THE WARNING. 5 % ey “Pard,” chuckled Brad Buckhart, standing at Dick’s side and watching the fight, “it sure is a right lively old scrimmage. I admit the fellow who put you wise to the hazing of those two freshies was ori the level, though I did reckon at the time that he was lying.” “That’s right,” said Dick; “but where are Fair and Elwell? I would not have interfered in an ordinary hazing, but, knowing those rascals, Clay and Carlin, were back of this, I decided to take a hand.’ . Two fellows broke away from the ruck of the fight- ing and rushed toward the cab, Plainly it was their intention to get away, and leave the rest to settle the encounter as they might. Neither of them saw Dick and Brad standing close beside the open door of the aie” cab until the Texan stepped out with a single stride, Me crying: ae _ “What’s your great hurry, _ linger some and back up your friends?” As he spoke, he reached for the shoulder of the nearer and. shorter man. | With a growl, the fellow struck at Buckhart. _ “Whoop!” exploded the Texan joyously. “This lets yme into the game, and I’ve been some a-plenty to ; take a hand.” \ s\ = “Then, having parried the blow, he handed the fellow a i body jolt that produced a grunt. _. Meanwhile, Merriwell had clutched at the tale Me who started back and tried © escape the outshot ‘hand. Dick’s fingers closed in the man’s collar. “Tt’s really disgraceful to desert your friends in a time of need, like this, you know,” laughed Merriwell. “Don’t run away. Show your manhood. Stand by your pals.” The fellow thrust out. both hands and made a Look ward twisting wrench with the epper part of his body. Something ripped. The man’s collar gave way, and an instant later Merriwell was holding i in his -gripped oe acer aedteae aE REP ae aE EE Hise “ i ied SF scat 5 . G TRI eT De ae ee AERC es tA RRR RE EIE SE aE Oe panne oe ‘s PLONE Ne EAA > TGS ae Se ee TIP TOP WEEKLY. 25 - chap he had tried to stop. was legging it toward the The masked fellows, startled and astounded, dropped | gents? Why don’t you. brought Fair to his senses and led him to quit strug-. _ the rescue of some one in the water. by timated by Dithe New Haven end ofthe bridge. “Go!” cried Dick, thrusting the trophy into tos <3 pocket. “I have something to identify you by, if I wish.” A sound like a stifled, choking cry for help came up — from the river. Merriwell heard it, and it thrilled him through and through. Suddenly he fancied he under- — stood why those masked hazers had been gathered at the rail of the bridge, looking over and downward. Unmindful of the fighters, he leaped to the rail. A. distant light shot a gleam athwart the surface.of the water. Down there, in that gleaming track, Dick saw something round and dark, like a human head. ‘It was amazing with what swiftness Merriwell tore — off his shoes, flung aside his coat, poised himself on ; the rail of the bridge, and shot headlong toward the © water. He knew some one was down there in® us | river, struggling desperately for life. Like‘an arrow the diver cleft the water. With ae swooping curve, he rose to the surface, immediately striking out with powerful strokes toward the point where he had seen that human head revealed. by se gleam of a far-off light. oF ; Despite all Dick Merriwell could have daria: Lan Fair must have perished only for the assistance of — Sampson Elwell, who reached him, at last, and kept — him from sinking. Frightened and frantic to a poe which prevented him, from listening to his friend’s in- structions, Lance continued to struggle, and might haye made it impossible for Elwell to save him had not Dick Merriwell reached them and taken part in the pesChes 0%. | ia It was Dick’s calm, commanding v voice which finally gling and clutching ‘at the two men who were ‘holding him up. Samp’s words had made no impression on friend. Dick, however, possessed the ability to conip obedience by the frightened boy. There was some- thing in his cool, distinctly spoken words which: Ne Lance both confidence and trust. : = Brad Buckhart, having stretched his antagonist’ on the bridge with a good left-hand punch, saw Dick le: from the rail and shoot headlong toward the wate Intuitively the Texan knew his comrade had dived to As fast as_ could run, Brad hiked toward the end of the bri where he knéw some small boats were to be foun And, so, in company with a watchman, the “ 7 finally came, rowing and cee across, the water, | TIP TOP ’ Merriwell and Elwell lifted Lance Fair, who was : first pulled into the boat. The lank Hoosier followed, and then Dick, grasping the stern, climbed quickly aboard. “Thank you, Brad,’ ” he said, “I half fancied you ‘ ‘ might be the one who would get around to pull us out. _ You know, I always depend on you in such emergen- cies. “Get us ashore as soon as you can, for this air is deuced cold, and Fair is pretty well done up, al- Meet) f hardly fancy his bath will do him any serious Baty * * Weim ee x6 The sound of Buckhart’s retreating footsteps had "scarcely died away when some one knocked. ie * said Dick. | =a was not surprised by the appearance of Dunbar Core i in,’ of , ee said Dick, “I have expected you would call it before this. It's nasty unnecessary for me to 4 ae I Sean you and Carlin were the leaders in that affair. ees your pin if you were to get it. I was determined that you should come to ‘You WEEKLY. a fellow who has more genuine manhood in his make- You attacked him When he got back at you with that little practical joke, which up than a dozen such as you. brutally in front of a theatre not long ago. y & 48 showed you up as a street masher, and made you the butt of ridicule on the campus, you vowed you would Well, river, and it’s lucky for you and your accomplices that - soak him. you did. You soaked him in the — Samp Elwell, Fair’s chum, was a good swimmer, and, therefore, able to save Fair from drowning. Only for that, you would have been guilty of manslaughter. Think it over, Clay, and see if the satisfaction you might have obtained would have made you content in~ the knowledge that you had helped drown a man. It Se was really a narrow escape for you. Fortunately, Fair came through that little experience in good shape. | “T’m going to add just a few more remarks. In arty clashes between freshmen and sophomores, I shall not mix unless I consider mtyself justified, as I certainly — was in this instance. As far as you and Carlin are " ’ ‘ qe concerned, I don’t care to have any dealings whatever Nevertheless, with you. if you do not let Fair and Elwell alone in future something is going to drop on” * you, and drop hard. It will flatten you out ioe : It will be your finish. : ar neh a Here's your necktie and scart pin. THE END. THE NEXT NUMBER (705) WILL CONTAIN - DICK MERRIWELL’S BEST FORM; OR, : Master of Himeclt, 7] ae the ‘Lure of the Cards—Selfish Anion 4 Plotters At the Woodlands Club—In the an - iw i a i ele nt lS ne a hth an samncaih - at the outer ends of the spokes. ake de THE BOLAS AND THE LARIAT. The bolas and the lariat are two weapons almost exclusively peculiar to America. One or the other of them\is in use in several parts of South America and in Mexicof The gauchos, wha inhabit the pampas of La Plata, and the Patagonians have made a reputation for their skillful use of these weapons, and the former are said to prefer the lariat to firearms. The bolas consists of two or three balls of stone or metal united by leather thongs. The simplest form, and this is said to be the older one, is a leather thong about eight feet long, hav- ing a ball securely fastened at each end. Among the Patagonians these balls are made of stone, and have a groove running round them like a ring, into which the ends of the thong are {ightly wrapped and fastened. Another form of Patagonian bolas has three balls with three thongs united in a common centre. We might, compare the thongs, when spread out, to three spokes of a wheel with weights When there are three balls in the bolas, one of them is smaller than the other two, and as a rule in this form of bolas, which is the more modern one, the balls are usually sewn up in leather, and attached to the thongs by secure knots. With his bolas the Patagonian or the gaucho hunts horses, cattle, and other quadrupeds, and the rhea, or American ostrich. As he rides upon horseback, he grasps one of the balls in his hand, always the small one when there are three, and, after whirling the weapon about his head, hurls it at the flying animal. He may so direct his aim as to strike the animal with one of the balls, and so kill it or stun it; or he may contrive that one of the thongs shall strike the creature’s neck or feet, and the whirling balls will wrap the thongs in coils about its neck or limbs, and so bring the hunted animal down, and hold it en- tangled, until the huntsman rides up to dispatch it with his knife, or secure it alive. In some cases the force of the bolas wrap- ping about an animal’s neck is sufficient in itself to strangle the animal. Occasionally the huntsman rides up near enouglf to strike his prey with one of the balls of the bolas without re- linquishing his hold of the weapon. All these different uses of the bolas are only acquired after long practice, and the weapon is not by any means so easy to wield as one might at first imagine. The lariat is too well known to need a description. Properly, it is a leather thong of plaited, well-greased hide; some thirty feet long, having an iron ring at the end, through which the thong is looped so as to form a running noose. The lariat is always used by a rider. He holds the noose and the folded length of the weapon in his hand, while the other end is securely fas- tened to his saddle. Hunting the horse or other animal which he wishes to capture, until he is within striking distance; he throws the noose over the head, or horns, or about the legs of the _flying animal, and, checking the horse which he is riding, he pulls his prey down in an instant, and quickly kills it, or secures it. The gauchos, who capture wild horses with the aid of the lariat, usually drive them first into a corral or circular inclosure.’ Having selected a horse, the mounted gaucho throws his lariat so as to catch its forelegs, as it runs wildly round the corral. Drawing the rope tight, he pulls the horse down; then, making a circle, he catches one of its hind legs in the coil, and hitches it up to the others. He then dismounts, puts on a bridle, and fastens the horse’s fore legs together with a thong. Taking off the lariat, he allows the horse to rise, and leads him out of the corral; Then, in spite of all the animal’s efforts, he saddles and mounts him, and, ‘in the short space of an hour, it is said, breaks him in. The Patagonians have a weapon which is sometimes called a lariat, but is rather, between a bolas and a lariat in construction and use. It consists of a single ball at the end of a long cord. The ball is thrown to strike the animal, or to. carry the thong, by means of its impetus, round and round the animal’s neck or legs, while the other end of the cord is retained by the thrower. It is said that the lariat is nof a native American invention, but was introduced by the Spaniards who conquered and overran Mexico and parts of South America nearly four hundred years 5 \ WEEKLY, 27 ago. In proof of this it is shown that the word lasso is simply an old Spanish word laso, meaning a noose Or suarce. But it seems just as likely that the Spaniards found the weapon in use when they arrived in America, and called it a laso, or noose, as the best description which they could give it in their own language. If, then, the native name was forgotten, while the Spanish name was retained in use, it would be very easy to think that the Spaniards had invented the lasso. It is curious to find, however, that the lasso or lariat was known to the ancient Egyptians thousands of years ago, and is depicted in some of the wall paintings which they executed. The noose and the ball lasso, such as the Patagonians use, are both represented. - They were used for catching the wild ox, antelope, and other animals alive, and the huntsman, being on foot, had to lie in ambush to throw’them. The Lapps of northern Europe capture their half-wild reindeer with the lasso, when milking time comes round. And a tribe in- habiting the island of Luzon, in the Philippines, is said to make use of the lasso when hunting the stag, and sometimes also when out upon head-hunting ,expeditions, ——__—__.4—-6-- IN A FLORIDA BOG.’ A hunter’s life often means an almost equal degree of peril to the hunter as to the hunted. An experience of the Indian River country of Florida is told by a recent writer. He was duck shooting alone, with not even a dog for company. He had been jumping sloughs, wading brooks, and retrieving his own kills. He says: I wore a wading suit of mackintosh which came above my waist, and was strapped to my shoulders. About noon I came to an Open space, green with the freshness of spring. I came to it suddenly, emerging from a tangle of oaks and vines which grew- to its edge, and from a puddle near its centre a mallard duck flushed. It was a fine shot, and the bird fell not ten feet beyond the puddle, and I started after it. og My gun was in my right hand; and over my left. shoulder J had a game strap, from which hung a dozen birds weighing some thirty pounds—as much as I cared to carry. I took two steps forward, and sank nearly to my waist in the bog. I tried to go back, and made an effort to extricate myself by bearing down with the gun and my left hand on the green sur- face around me, and both gun and hand went under to my elbows. I let go the gun, pulled out my hands with a little effort, and by that time had sunk nearly to the top of my waders. I was getting frightened. I made a. desperate effort, and threw my body half round toward the firm bank I had quitted. That took me to within an inch of my armpits. I could feel, or thought I felt, a steady suction on my legs. Unquestionably there was quicksand under the bog. I knew that in another five minutes that green surface would close over my nostrils. A worse-scared man never saw himself being buried alive. I had thrown off, my game strap before I sank so far. And then, in my extremity, I glanced up, and saw a length of rattan vine. S\.geging from the limb of an oak which jutted over the bog, within reach of my right hand. I grabbed it. The rest was comparatively easy. I pulled on the rattan, and slowly and steadily drew myself up, but my mackintosh suit was left behind. . My gun also was lost, but I saved ‘my game bag, which had not settled much. But for that rattan vine I should to-day be under the treach- erous green bog. : A HUNDRED FEET HIGH. _ The “india. rubber” plant—Ficus elasticus—is a great tree in the tropical countries in which it flourishes, often reaching as much as one hundred feet high. Imposing indeed it looks “in such conditions, with a vast leafy crown extending forty or fifty feet outward on each side of the massive trunk, and with im- mense buttressing roots twisting and winding along above the ground in such a way as to lead the natives of India and Ceylon | to call it the “snake tree.” Sometimes these roots grow up into the trees and make the tree look like a banyan—to which, it may be mentioned, it is botanically related. : CIR AIOE 4 sory NEW YORK, October -9, 1909, TERMS TO TIP TOP WEEKLY MAIL SUBSCRIBERS. (Postage Free.) Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5c. Each. S-MODEDS . nr ennnne-nnncennneee G50. | One year ..- casio secmecedes. $2.50 SIMOTDG « cnsnceschscnccassanens 85e. 2 copies one year.....:-.....-. 4.00 TOT ads Wah g dh ot lae deme bold $1.25 1 copy two years.../.....-...> 4.00 How to Send Money—By post-office or express money order, registered letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At your own riskif sent by currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter. Receipts—Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged by proper change of number on your label. If not correct you have not been properly credited, and should let us know at ence. STREET & SMITH, Publishers, Ormonv G. Smrtn, 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York City. Gsorcs C, Switn, lp roprietors. »® TIP TOP ROLL OF HONOR. Following the suggestion of Mr. Burt L, Standish, that appeared fn his letter to Tip Top readers in No. 480, the following loyal Tip Toppers have won for themselves a place on our Honor Roll for their efforts to increase the circulation of the King of Weeklies. Get inline, boys and girls, and strive to have your name at the head of the list. Misses M. and K. Samson, New York City. Robert L. Wagar, C. E., Ohio. Arthur. P. Miles, Colorado. Howard W. Butler, Jr., Pennsylvania. Hugo Sandgraf, Wisconsin. Clarence Gusbach, New Jersey. R, R. Miller, Ohio. G. Rangnow, Philadelphia, Pa. R. F. Vanatta, Denver, Colo. E. P. Slocum, Iowa. The names of other enthusiastic Tip Toppers will be added from time to time. Send in the result of your efforts to push the eircula- tion of your favorite weekly and win a place on the Roll of Honor. APPLAUSE. Owing to the large number of letters received, the editor of Tip Top cannot undertake to secure their publication under six weeks, Those who contribute to this department must not expect to see them ‘before that time, FREE POST CARDS—Any boy who writes us, telling why he loves Tir Tor, and what the magazine has done for him; as well as what he is doing on his part to increase its circulation, will, upon request, receive a set of six fine post cards of the principal chatacters in Tie Top free by mail. Be very sure and address youy letters ‘‘Editor Tip Top Weekly Post Card Offer,” \pepemsgrenryiieeraege= { Although I have read many books, there is none to compare with “Tip Top.” I am saying what thousands of others have said. I have had the pleasure of reading “Tip Top” for three years, and hope'to for many years to come, I first came to read “Tip Top” when I was working in a bookstore, We sold more copies of “Tip Top” than any other\weekly on the market, and “being curious to know why it was popular, I read one, and have continued reading them ever since. During this time I have induced several friends to read it, and they all voiced the same opinion as quoted above. I am also reading Burt L. Standish’s WEEKLY, story in the Popular Magazine, and think that it is the greatest baseball story he ever wrote. Wishing long life and success to Street & Smith, Burt L. Standish, and “Tip Top,” I remain a loyal Tip-Topper. Jno. ALEXANDER, Pittsburg, Pa. Sentiments that do you credit, John. We do not think any boy need ever feel ashamed to be caught reading a Merriwell story, whether published in book form or in the “Tip Top Weekly.” Print any one of them in dollar shape and there is not a man alive It is only that absurd, cheap literature” that makes many condemn what they have never examined, Five cents is the limit of most boys’ pocket money, and “Tip Top” is placed at that small figure so that it may be within the reach of every Jad in the land. It is “cheap” only as to price—in all other ‘respects it is the “top notch” of juvenile literature, the finest and most instructive magazine for boys ever printed, who would hesitate to buy it for his boy. unreasonable outery in connection with ee (A letter from Minnesota. ) Four years ago I began to read “Tip Top Weekly,” and since that time I have not missed a copy. It is certainly a great little magazine, not only interesting, but uplifting, at Jeast it has been so for me. A boy placing Dick or Frank Merriwell as his hero, earnestly striving to follow in?their footsteps, may be sure Ahat he will amount to something in this world. Can say that IT am not the only one reading “Tip Top” in our family. It seems to be as interesting to father as it is to me. Wiéill close with best wishes for the further development of “Tip Top,” promising to do in the future as I have always done in the past, spread the best of all weeklies among my friends and acquaintances. Re- spectfully, A. J. OppEGAARD. | Another father who appreciates the value of “Tip Top” as an educational factor. They are really quite plentiful this week, and it delights us always to know of a united “Tip Top” family, each and every member of which finds a fascination in the stories, as well as some benefit ‘in the sound doctrines advocated by the Merriwells, : reader of “Tip Top” for a long time yow, and like it better.every week. I know several other boys who are very interested readers, too.. I and my brother have established a “club room” in our field near home, and we gather a lot of chums there every day, now the holidays are on, and they are all glad to read your fine stories. Many of them are now brtying “Tip Top.” too. I take advantage of every chance to bring the paper to the notice of those I know. My father, who writes a lot for the papers, says “Tip Top Weekly” does publish some teal good stories, just the kind that boys ought to read, as many of them ptovide very enjoyable reading, as well, as cultivate those ideas that help to make boys intelligent and brave men when they grow up. Many of the stories in “Tip Top” give a clear description of life under all conditions, -and show us ‘How we may act and succeed when placed in similar circumstances. The characters and heroes in “Tip Top” are O. K. I will now close, and wish everybody success. I hope to see my letter in the Applause column so that your readers can see that the popular weekly is no stranger away here in Nova Scotia. Yours truly, Nova Scotia, Canada. Tuomas R. WArktns. I have been a ' And hére it is, Thomas. Your father knows a good thing when he sees it. Some men unfortunately forget what they used to yearn after as boys, and the temptations surrounding them at the time, but others, thank Heaven, never grow old in mind if they do in body. air I have been a reader of Burt L.’s famous publication, Top,” since the first week of 1909.. So you see I am a short reader Of “Tip Top.” But I can never say enough of praise for “Tip Top.” I smoked, but left off before buying a copy of “Tip Top,” and it has helped me to leave off other bad habits. If any boy wants to lead a straight’ life let him follow “Tip Top” week by week and he won’t go far wrong. I have not. done much for it; but it has done much for me. After I bought the first weekly I saw on the back cover a list of books of the lip, » ‘ake i ali dan ib ac sapel eS ian tse er re Socal eet cine Pe ee SF hans oe Ses Final I Nt te tS ee Tissen onaicicetiek oa ea iat ai gi Siete soar eneeiennnemnemesnemmmemme scene cane anette aint tia ln ia a i Naa i? Cine hag Sta tatedeiae, seeds Sonia ~ nt Tip, TOP Medal Library, and I went to my dealer and got the first one— 150—and have been getting them right along. But he asks nie fifteen cents for all’numbers under 378. 1 would not care if they were in good condition. I see in book No. 392 that they should. be but ten cents, so I wish you would send a complete cataloguesand let me know how much it would cost to send five Medal Libraries in one bundle. I close now with three cheers for all connected with. “Tip Top.” Frep, FarzGERALD. We are sending you the catalogue. are now in the New Medal, which sells for fifteen cents. dealer will order them for you cheaper than you can, as. he deals with the news company and has the benefit of express rates. All the Merriwell books Your IT think Frank and Dick How fine it would be if are great. more young men would become such splendid examples of strength and youth, which brings with it a clear mind and conscience. Last June one*of my friends gave me a copy of “Tip Top,” No. 635, )“Dick Merriwell’s Risk.” From the start I liked it, and since then I have bought and read them each week up to the present date. I have also bought’ and read all of the New Medal Library pertaining to the Merriweils from that date. But that isn’t enough, so in this letter I am ordering the first of the Metriwell stories. Burt L. Standish can certainly ‘ ‘write some,’ for his books are the best that I ever read. My brother thinks that he is the great thing, or, as Brad would say, “the real genuine article.” We have convinced several persons that “Tip Top” is not to be ranked among the tsual class, and does not contain any blood-and-thunder tales, and several of our friends are teading them. I remain a true Tip-Topper and a friend of Mr. Standish. Sincerely yours, Watter CC, Crownus. Chicago, III. The point that pleases us most is your willingness to stand up for your favorite journal, and convince your boy friends, as well as older persons, that these Merriwell stories must be judged in a class by themselves. No one can even mention any writer of juvenile literature equal to Burt L. Standish, who, not content with writing the most intensely interesting stories ever printed, works incessantly with the idea of building up boy character and making manly men of his readers. (A letter from Texas.) Here’s to Street & Smith, Mr. Burt L. Standish, also the editor must be included, as he is editor of the best magazine published to-day. I have been reading the “Tip Top” ever since I was a child, and expect to read them as long as they are pub- lished. Must confess that they have been instrumental in keep- ing me on the right road, also from forming bad habits, which are the ruin of many a youth to-day. Every one'in our family loves the “Tip Top,” and looks forward to their coming every week. Here’s wishing good luck and success to the “Tip Top” force. Lioyn BENNETT. We surely appreciate such hearty praise, and send thanks to our enthusiastic Texan friend. Four years ago my sister and I ridictled our elder brothers for reading the “Tip Top Weekly,” not understanding its full value. One day, out of mere curiosity, I happened to glance over one and became more interested as the story progressed, Since then there are none more eager to read them than my sister and I. In our club we are known as the “Tip Top” girls, for we have induced about forty girls and boys to read this famous weekly. The characters we admire most are Frank, Dick, Bruce, and Brad of the boys, and Inza, Elsie, June, and Doris of the girls. We sympathize greatly with Bruce Browning for the loss of his sweetheart. We close with praise to Burt L. Standish, who, in our estimation, is the best author of juvenile stories in the world, and with an equal amount of praise to the greatest publishing house, Street & Smith. From two loyal Tip-Toppers. New. York City. Misses M. and K. Samson. Yours is not an isolated case by any means. Many of our boy friends have sisters who vie with them in love for the won- derful characters portrayed by a master hand in “Tip Top’s” columns. WEEKLY. ‘PHYSICAL HEALTH CULTURE, - - 29. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS. EDITED BY PROF. FOURMEN, NOTICE—So many inquiries reach us each week concerning the various manuals on athletic development, which we publish, that we have decided to keep a list of them atthe head of this department. Any number can be had by mail by remitting ro cents, and 3 cents postage, for each copy, to the publishers. FRANK MERRIWELL’S BOOK OF PHYSICAL DEVELOPMENT. THE ART OF BOXING AND SELF-DEFENSE, by Prof. Donavan. U. S. ARMY PHYSICAL EXERCISES, revised by Prof. Donavan. by Prof. Fourmen. Please tell us how our measurements are. feet 6 inches; weight, 106 pounds; chest, nof- nal, 3014 inches; expanded, 32 inches; biceps, 8 inches; flexed, on4 bk: actoss shoulders, 1434 inches; waist, 2674 inches; thigh, 17 inches; calf, 1134 inches; ankle, 8% inches; neck, 1134 inches; age, 16 years 8 months. P. B’s height is 5 feet 5 inches; Pror. FourMENn: * M. - height is 5 weight, 113 pounds; chest, 317% inches ; expanded, 34 inches; biceps, 834 inches; flexed, 1044 inches; across_ shoulders, 16 inches: waist, 2714, inches; thigh, 18 inches; calf, 121% inches; ankle, 8% inches; .neck, 1254 inches; age, 16 years 9 months. What are our weak and strong points? print, we remain two loyal Tip-Toppers. Staten Island, N. Y. C. M. should weigh 120 pounds. His chest is nearly 5 inches below the standard. I would advise immediate and continued daily efforts to ehlarge his lungs. P. B.’s weight is almost cor- rect, and his chest only lacks 2 inches; but he might also’ devote some time and energy to gaining something here. It pays, boys, Hoping to see this in Co MM: PS, Pror, FourMEN: Being a reader of the “Tip Top,” I would like to have you answer my questions. My measurements are as follows: Age, 13 years; weight, 9714 pounds; across shoulders, 14 inches; height, 4 feet 10% inches; chest, normal, 30 inches; expanded, 32 inches; waist, 29 inches; wrist, 614 imeches; calf, 12 inches; neck, 12% inches; thigh, 14 inches; knee, 13 inches. What exercises, should I take? BriLLiANT JAKE. New Hampton, lowa. All good, Jake, but the waist. Your 29 inches shoud be less than 24. inches. (A letter from Washington.) Pror. FourMEN: My age is 14 years 9 months 17 days; height, 5 feet 4 inches; weight, 120 pounds; neck, 13 inches; chest, nor-: mal, 31 inches; expanded, 33 inches; thigh, 18 inches; calves, 13 inches; forearms, 10 inches; biceps, normal, 1o inches; flexed, 12 inches; shoulders, 15 inches. I would like to be an all-around athlete; I play ball some. I don’t smoke or drink. I would like to hear from you, 1 remain, yours truly. Ausrey BUuLLArp. Weight 10 pounds in excess, chest 2-inch deficit. Change these conditions, my young friend, and it will be of advantage to you. as an athlete. : Pror. FourMEN: My chums and I have been readers of “Tip Top” for about a year, and we therefore take the liberty of ask- ing a few questions. How is our.build in general? Are we too young to train all year around? We are all between 16 and 16% years. of age. Here are our measurements: Frank Gilbert— Height, 5 feet 5% inches; weight, 124 pounds; chest, normal, 37 inches; expanded, 40 inches; right upper arm, 11% inches; left upper arm, 1134 inches; right forearm, 10% inches; left forearm, 1034 inches; waist, 2714 inches; left thigh, 20 inches; right thigh, 20 inches; left calf, 1314 inches; right calf, 134 inches. .Talfourd Brooks—Height, 5 feet 7 inches; weight, 130 pounds; neck, 1334 inches; chest, normal, 351% inches ; ex- panded, 36% inches : right upper arm, 1234 inches; left upper arm, 11% inches; right forearm, 1034 inches; left forearm, 10% inches; ‘waist, 28 inches; left thigh, 20 inches ; right thigh, 20 inches; left calf, 1314 inches; right calf, 13 inches. William i ae t ’ neck, 13% inches ;~ ¥ - every pound of which is hard as can be. 30 WEE OTOP Ashton—Height, 5 feet I1 inches; weight, 133 pounds; neck, 1314 inches ; chest, normal 35 inches; expanded, 38 inches; right upper arm, 11% inches; left upper arm, 11 inches; right forearm, 1014 inches; left forearm, 10/4 inches; waist, 27 inches; left thigh, 19 inches; right thigh, 19 inches; left calf, 14 inches; right calf, 14 inches. Taken stripped. Yours truly, Witit1aAm ASHTON. San Francisco, Cal. Frank’s weight is good and chest excellent. Talfourd, weight exactly right and chest ditto. William is the shy one, as he has grown like a weed. He should weigh about 160 pounds and have a chest 39 inches normal. He should do all in his power to in- crease his lungs. The needed avoirdupois will come later, no doubt, but at any rate it is not so essential, Pror. Fourmen: I have been a loyal Tip-Topper for about three years. My other two letters, I am sorry to say, had the misfortune not to be published. I hope this one will, as I know not what parts of my body need developing. I am 15 years 6 months old and 5 feet 4% inches high. I weigh 128 pounds, My calves are 14 inches; biceps, expanded, 11% inches; ankles, 914 inches; neck, 14 inches; thigh, 20 inches; forearm, expanded, 1114 inches; wrist, 6% inches; waist, 29%4 inches; chest, normal, 33 inches; expanded, 30%% inches. 1. How are my measurements? 2. What are my weak points? 3. Do you approve of the two-meal diet? 4. I can run three miles, under 20 minutes without overexerting myself. Is this good? Hoping this will be published, and thanking you in advance, | remain, . ATHLETE. New York City. Measurements first class. You weigh a little more than the 113 pounds required, and your waist should be about 26% inches. Pror. FourMEN: Ten' years ago I read my first “Tip Top,” and have been a constant reader ever since. I was a boy of twelve years at that time, with a weak body. I have tried to follow Frank Merriwell’s advice and example and make a strong, healthy man of myself with a clean body. I do not use tobacco WEEKLY. T will Age, 22 years; height, 5 feet 8% inches; weight, 146 pounds; chest, normal, 37% in,any form, and have never used liquor in any way. send my measurements and get your opinion. inches; expanded, 4014 inches; neck, 14% inches; calves, 14 inches; ankle, 9 inches; wrist, 7 inches; waist, 294 inches. What are my weak points, also my strong ones? Hoping to sée this m print soon, | am yours for a strong, healthy, and clean body. Colorado Springs, Col. F, D. M. You aré in fine physical condition, friend. I thank you for giving “Tip Top” the credit. Pror. FourMEN: I am a reader of “Tip Top,” and wish you to answer a few questions. Age, 20 years; height, 5 feet 6% inches; weight, 160 pounds; neck, 15 inches; chest, normal, 36 inches; waist, 31 inches; biceps, 12% inches; forearms, 11% inches; wrists, 634 inches; thighs, 21 inches; calves, 1514 inches; ankles, 914 inches. How are my measurements? Point out my weak spots. Yours truly, W. W. W. Woburn, Mass. . Your only weak point, my boy, is avoirdupois—too much flesh. You should only weigh 130 pounds and have a 27%4-inch waist. You need strenuous training and less fattening food. But rejoice in the fact that your chest is fully up to the mark. (A letter from Indiana.) Pror. FourMEN: Being a constant reader and a loyal Tip- Topper of your most valuable publication, I have taken the liberty to send my measurements in for you to give me the weak points. Age, 17 years; height, 5 feet 5%4 inches; weight, 132 pounds; chest, normal, 3234 inches; expanded, 36 inches; waist, 30 inches. Am | heavy enough? -What should my weight and measurements be? How may I increase my weight? Awaiting the answer to appear in “Tip Top,’ I am a most loyal Janeite. L. M. Harmoy. You should weigh 117 pounds, chest nearly 35 inches normal, waist 27 inches, hips 34 inches, thighs 20 inches, and calves 14 inches. You are already about 15 pounds too heavy. TIP TOP BASEBALL TOURNAMENT FOR 1909 past, has induced us to once again enter the field with a tempting offer. at the end of the season, have the highest average—the members of which play the greatest number of games, score the most runs and have lost the least number of games, will be declared the winners. having the higher,average will be declared the Tip Top Championship Team of the All-American Baseball Tournament for 1909, and will receive a beautiful silk pennant bearing a suitable device. receive a full equipment, consisting of trousers, shirt, stockings, shoes and cap for nine members. newspaper accotints of your games also to substantiate the score. notice taken of any score not entered on a coupon cut outof Tip Top. Coupons must be properly made out, one for each game. oP great interest taken by enthusiastic amateur baseball teams all over the country in our contests for some years So here it is, boys: The two teams which, Of the two winning teams, the one Each winning team will When possible send DON’T FAIL TO SEND IN YOUR COUPON AT ONCE. Vo 1909—TIP TOP BASEBALL TOURNAMENT COUPON. A MAME OF POAM pis. c85.Shccshaestscixviars SU oi ers Si BTARE as cakaraiag loon OPPONENT'S NAMB.......0.-2+sssee0s niga NAMES OF TEAM. POSITION. NAMES OF TEAM. PRL EL ESE ERE REE Serene ereeeae Coen Hee eee Jeaenee) Pitcher "sen eneeaeeesn SCOPE ORE eee eee eo enneeweae Serer eee ese eeeee ° ebisat Oudabdwugumels sud cdcenesacamorusousecsected ta sUheewnscagcoesecs doh Cathet ficcescccccncvacccccccwecccccensceccssessescccnecsassecsee eomenee POSS REE E EERE EEE EERO OOOO ee Ist Base lsceesoceses POORER OER Oe Seer eee nee srreererrree ° Uenacaccesewenesecanennncesernese Moe rang eonctanenebeeycotcmsccnsscowes 6h SOBA [os iow pelldeccacasnddveanbicdsccdcdcvenccdescdsevanccudansccesve teeee weer ene POOF OR REE OO EERO ERE Ee 3d Bage CORO O OER O OOH O OOH ee eae EERE OEE OEE ROE ETE OR EEE OOD OTe ea ee ee eee . } CPoccncccceseuvassacess O@coecaccece anaes Short Stop Pry Te) TE ETIIIL LET LETTE LT PTET Pe LTTLLTTTre TLL OO OR MOO RRR ERE EEE E RENEE ROE E EEE EEE R EERE EOE e ash ea PU Bnei haedhib aided loved vekwelae ded aboddacdndcdkanewhaqgaaelve sonseee coom Chie dnwwesadeedsecesdadsereswasscacseccshcesdnocddensucutocseunansccscney C. Field j...... Cbd ae dddphvaresbaveduaacdeccenssashewetsskauhecpensbecthecsoos . s weccnscce Gwe bcdnaviuconacecencecdpeduneaadeebscoedcestncscsscsceccesseua LeU CUtinhausch addoch Seakhubtboavebaladkot chacdvakuteapansdiins cand oneeces - WINNER TOES OH SRV ES OES Paeesseaeneeuns Ceram rere nee FINAL SCORE. ee eee ere es MANAGER SR ORR OREO OOOH OME Seecocsseeeeaee e i. ok Sieg pail . i | pala i ngs a sens The COUPON Brings the I The LCS. Raises Your Salary/_33 TO. RAISE YOUR SALARY! That's the very purpose of the attached coupon. Already it has been the means by which thousands of ambitious men and women have had their salaries raised. a It will bring the International Correspondence Schools—the greatest® salary-raising insti- tution in the worldr—direct to your home, enabling you to qualify in your spare time for a good paying position in the line of work that appeals to you, regardless of your age, place of residence, occupation or schooling. Mark the attached coupon and learn how the I. C. S. can put you on the road to suc- cess. The J. C. S. makes no charge for telling you how you can quickly become an expert—how you can command a good paying position—a position that you can call yout very own, and in which you can advance still further and earn still more. Besides putting you to no expense and under no obligation, marking the cou- pon entitles you to six months’ free subscription to the I. C. S. illustrated monthly, “Ambition.” There’s nothing to hinder. The I. C.S. makes it all easy. What bet- ter proof of the salary-raising power INTERNATIONAL CORRESPONDENCE SCHOOLS ; Box $04, Scranton, Pa, Pleage explain, without farther obligation on my part, how I can qualify for the position before which Ihave marked x, and also send me, absolutely free, ““Ambition’’ Magazine for of the I. C.S. could be required if than the fact that on an average 300 students every month YOU VOLUNTARILY report salaries Advertisement Writer Show Card Writer . Window Trimmer six mouths. Bookkeeper Mechan. Draughtsman Stenographer Telephone Engineer} Elee. Lighting Supt. Mech. Engineer Plamber & Steam Fitter raised, positions bettered, Ginger Chil mecwer Are independence gained and Oivil Servieo f_arehuot't breaghamane’ A m bi ti ous ‘success assured as the Textile it Supt. Structural Bngincer ; direct result i C. S. Elec. Engineer Mining Kuglaser training. uring 0 Succeed July the num- vat in Li fe— ber was 252, ee City State ee ee ee ee ee ee MARK THE COUPON ee ee pom ALL, TIP TOP WEEKLY THAT CAN NOW BE SUPPLIED =—— — 194—-Frank Merriwell’s Stratagem. 195—Frank Merriwell’s Limit. OF THE BACK NUMBERS OF 498—Dick 499—Dick 568—-Dick 569—Dick Merriwell’s Drop Kick. Merriwell’s Defeat. Meriwell’s Regret. Merriwell’s Silent Work. 639—Frank Merriwell’s Record Breakers. 197—Frank Merriwell’s “Flock.” 500—Dick Merriwell’s Chance. 570—Dick Merriwell’s Arm. 640—Dick Merriwell’s Shoulder. 198—Frank Merriwell’s Tempta- 501—Dick Merriwell’s Stride. 571—Dick Merriwell’s Skill. 641—Dick Merriwell’s Desperate tion, 502—Dick Merriwell’s Wing-Suit.. 572—-Dick Merriwell’s ' Magnetism. ork. 199—Frank Merriwell’s Work. 503—Dick Merriwell’s Skates. 5738—Dick Merriwell’s System, 642—Dick Merriwell’s Example. 213—Frank Merriwell’s Handicap. 504—Dick Merriwell’s Four Fists. 574—Dick Merriwell’s Salvation. 643—Dick Merriwell At Gale’s 214—Frank Merriwell’s Stroke. 505—Dick Merriwell’s Dashing 575—Dick Merriwell’s Twirling. Ferry. 230—Frank Merriwell’s Battery. Game. 576—Dick Merriwell’s Party. 644—Dick Merriwell’s Inspiration. 231—Frank Merriwell’s Archer. 506—Frank Merriwell’s Tigers. 577—Dick Merriwell’s Backers. 645—Dick Merriwell’s Shooting. 232—Frank Merriwell’s Double 507—Frank Merriwell’s Treasure 578—Dick Merriwell’s Coach. 646—Dick Merriwell in the Wilds. Play. Guard, 579—-Dick Merriwell’s Bingle. 647—Dick Merriwell’s Red Comrade 238—Frank Merriwell’s Find. 508—Frank Merriwell’s Flying Fear 580—Dick Merriwell’s Hurdling. 648—Frank Merriwell’s Ranch. , 234—Frank Merriwell’s Hustlers. 509—Dick Merriwell in Maine. 581—Dick Merriwell’s Best Work. 649—Frank Merriwell in the Sad- 235—Frank Merriwell’s Captivity. 510—Dick Merriwell’s Polo Team. 582—Dick Merriwell’s Respite. dle. 650—Frank Merriwell’s Brand. 651—Frank Merriwell’s Red Guide. 652—-Dick Merriwell’s Rival. 653—Dick Merriwell’s Strength, 654—-Dick Merriwell’s Secret Work. 655—Dick Merriwell’s Way. 656—Frank Merriwell’s Red Visitor 657—Frank Merriwell’s Rope. 658—Frank Merriwell’s Lesson. 236—Frank Merriwell’s New Pro- Merriwell’s Disadvan- tege. 237—Frank Merriwell’s Power. 238—Frank Merriwell’s Policy. 239—Frank Merriwell’s Freshmen. 240—Frank Merriwell’s Generalship 241—Frank Merriwell’s Kick, 242—Frank Merriwell’s High Jump 243—Frank Merriwell’s ‘“Brassie’’ 511—Dick Merriwell in the Ring. 583—Dick 512—-Frank Merriwell’s New Idea. tage, 513—Frank Merriwell’s Trouble. 584—Dick Merriwell Beset. 514—Frank Merriwell’s Pupils. 585—Dick Merriwell’s Great Rival. 515—Dick Merriwell’s Satisfaction. 586—Dick Merriwell’s Distrust. 516—Dick Merriwell’s Discernment. 587—Dick Merriwell, Lion-Tamer. 517—Dick Merriwell’s Friendly 588—Dick Merriwell’s Camp-site. , Hand. 589—Dick Merriwell’s Debt. f 518—Frank Merriwell’s New Boy. 590—Dick Merriwell’s Camp-Mates. 4 Shot. 244—Frank Merriwell’s Shrewdness 519—Frank Merriwell’s Mode, 591—Dick Merriwell’s Draw. 659—Frank Merriwell’s Protection. 520—Frank Merriwell’s Aids. 592—Dick Merriwell’s Disapproval. 660—-Dick Merriwell’s Reputation. 245—Frank Merriwell’s Entertain 521—Dick Merriwell’s Visit. 593—Dick Merriwell’s Mastery. 661—Dick Merriwell’s Motto. ments. 522—Dick Merriwell’s Retaliation. 594—Dick Merriwell’s oe Work 662—Dick Merriwell’s Restraint, 246—Frank Merriwell’s Mastery. 523—Dick Merriwell’s Rival. 595—Dick ee “Double 663—Dick Merriwell’s Ginger. 247—Frank Merriwell’s Dilemma. 524——Frank Merriwell’s Young Crew Squeeze.”’ 664—Dick Merriwell’s Driving, 248—Frank Merriwell’s Set-Back. 525—Frank Merriwell’s Fast Nine, 596—Dick Stavsiwull’s” Vanishing. 665—Dick Merriwell’s Good Cheer. '249—Frank Merriwell’s Search. 526—Frank Merriwell’s Athletic 597—Dick Merriwell Adrift. 666—Frank Merriwell’s Theory. 250—Frank Merriwell’s Ring. Field. 598—Dick Merriwell’s Influence. 667—Frank Merriwell’s Diplomacy. 251—Frank Merriwell’s Party. 527—Dick Merriwell’s Reprisal. 599—Frank Merriwell’s Worst Boy. 668—Frank Merriwell’s Encourage- 252—Frank Merriwell’s Life Strug- 528—Dick Merriwell Dared. 600—Frank Merriwell’s Annoyance. , ment. gle. 529——Dick Merriwell’s Dismay. 601—Frank Merriwell’s Restraint. 669—Frank Merriwell’s Great 253—-Frank Merriwell’s’ Skill. 530—Frank Merriwell’s Son. 602—Dick Merriwell Held Back. Work. 254—Frank Merriwell’s Club. 5381—Frank Merriwell’s Old Flock. 603—Dick Merriwell in the Line. 670—Dick Merriwell’s Mind. 255—Frank Meriwell’s Scheme. 5382—Frank Merriwell’s House Party 604—Dick Merriwell’s Drop Kick. 671—Dick Merriwell’s “Dip.” 256—Frank Merriwell’s Mysterious 533—Dick Merriwell’s Summer 605—-Frank Merriwell’s Air Voyage 672—Dick Merriwell’s Rally. Move. Team. z 606—Frank Merriwell’s Auto Chase. 6783—Dick Merriwell’s Flier. 257—Frank Merriwell’s Hand. 258—Frank Merriwell’s Suspicion. 584—-Dick Merriwell’s Demand. 535—-Dick Merriwell’s Slabmate. 607—Frank Merriwell’s Captive. 608—Dick Merriwell’s Value. ‘ 674—F rank. Merriwell’s Bullets. 675—Frank Merriwell Cut Off. 259—Frank Merriwell’s Trust. 536—Frank Merriwell’s Summer 609-—Dick Merriwell Doped. 676—Frank Merriwell’s Ranch Boss 260—Frank Merriwell’s Sweetheart. Camp. 610—Dick Merriwell’s Belief. 677—Dick Merriwell’s Equal. 261—Frank Merriwell’s Bosom 537—Frank Merriwell’s Proposal. 611—Frank Merriwell in the Mar- 678—-Dick Merriwell’s Development. Friend, 538—Frank Merriwell’s Spook- ket. 679—Dick Merriwell’s Eye. 262—Frank Merriwell Deceived. hunters. 612—Frank Merriwell’s Fight for 680—Frank Merriwell’s Zest. 263—Frank Merriwell in Form. 264—Frank Merriwell’s Coach. 408—Frank Merriwell’s Fire. 409—Frank Merriwell’s Great Peril 589—Dick Merriwell’s Cheek. 540——Dick Merriwell’s Sacrifice. 541—-Dick Merriwell’s Heart. Fortune, 618—Frank Merriwell on Top. 614—-Dick Merriwell’s Trip West. 542—Frank Merriwell’s New Auto. 615—Dick Merriwell’s Predicament. 681—Frank Merriwell’s Patience. 682—Frank Merriwell’s Pupil. 683—Frank Merriwell’s Fighters. 684—-Dick Merriwell at the ‘‘Meet.’”’ 415—Dick Merriwell’s Devotion, 543—Frank Merriwell’s Pride, 616—Dick Merriwell in Mystery 685—Dick Merriwell’s Protest. 418—Dick Merriwell’s , Force. 544—Frank Merriwell’se Young Win- Valley. 686—Dick Merriwell in the Marathon 423—Dick Merriwell’s Trap. ners. 617—Frank Merriwell’s Proposi- 687—-Dick Merriwell’s Colors. 432——Dick Merriwell’s Set Back. 545—Dick Merriwell’s Lead. tion. 688—Dick Merriwell, Driver. 433—Dick Merriwéll’s “Phantom.” 546—Dick Merriwell’s Influence. 618—Frank Merriwell Perplexed. 689—Dick Merriwell on the Deep. 434—Dick Merriwell’s Management 547—Dick Merriwell’s Top Notch. 619—Frank Merriwell’s Suspition. ¢90—Dick Merriwell in’ the North 435—Dick Merriwell’s Dilemma. 548—IFrank Merriwell’s Kids. 620—Dick Merriwell’s Gallantry. Woods. 436—Dick Merriwell’s Persistence. 549—Frank Merriwell’s Kodakers. 621—Dick Merriwell’s Condition. $91—Dick Merriwell’s Dandies 461—Dick Merriwe]l in Constanti- 550—Dick Merriwell, Freshman. 622—Dick Merriwell’s Stanchness. 692—Dick Merriwell’s “Skyscooter.” nople. 467—Dick Merriwell in 551—-Dick Merriwell’s . Progres. 623—Dick Merriwell’s Match. 693—Dick Merriwell in the Elk Egypt. 552—-Dick Merriwell, Half-back. 624—Frank Merriwell’s Hard Case. ; 469—Frank Merriwell’s Retaliation 553—Dick Merriwell’s Resentment. 625—Frank Merriwell’s Helper. Mountains. 472—Frank Merriwell’s Handicap. 554—-Dick Merriwell Repaid. 626—Frank Merriwell’s Doubts. 694—Dick Merriwell in Utah. 478—Frank Merriwell’s Method. 555—Dick Merriwell’s Staying 627—Frank Merriwell’s “‘Phenom.’’ 695—Dick Merriwell’s Bluff. 485—Dick Merriwell in Manila. Power. 628—Dick Merriwell’s Stand. 696—Dick Merriwell in the Saddle. 486—-Dick Megrriwell Marooned. 556—Dick Merriwell’s “Push.” 629—-Dick Merriwell’s Circle. 697—Dick Merriwell’s Ranch Friends 487—Dick Merriwell’s Comrade. 557—-Dick Merriwell’s Running. 630—Dick Merriwell’s Reach. 698—Frank Merriwell at Phantom 488—Dick Merriwell, Gap-Stopper. 558—Dick Merriwell’s Joke. 631—Dick Merriwell’s Money. Lake. 489—Dick Merriwell’s Sacrifice Hit 559—Dick Merriwell’s Seven. 632—Dick Merriwell Watched. e Hold- 490—Dick Merriwell’s Support. 560—Dick Merriwell’s Partner. 633—Dick Merriwell Doubted. 699—Frank Merriwell’s Hold-back. 491—Dick Merriwell’s Stroke 561—Dick Merriwell in the Tank. 634—Dick Merriwell’s ‘Distrust. 700—Frank Merriwell’s Lively Lads. 492——Dick Merriwell Shadowed. 562—-Frank Merriwell’s Captive. 635—Dick Merriwell’s Risk. 701—-Frank Merriwell as Instructor. 498—Dick Merriwell’s Drive. 563—Frank Merriwell’s Trailing. 6386—Frank Merriwell’s Favorite, 702—-Dick Merriwell’s Cayuse. 494—Dick Merriwell’s Return. 564—Frank Merriwell’s Paliaman, Sera Merriwell’s Young Clip- 703—Dick Merriwell’s Quirt. 495—Dick Merriwell’s Restoration. 565—Frank Merriwell’s Horse. 704—Dick Merriwell’s Freshman 496—Dick Merriwell’s Value, 566—Frank Merriwell’s Intrusion. 638—Frank. Merriwell’s Steadying Friend. 497—Dick Merriwell’s ‘‘Dukeg.” 567—Frank Merriwell’s Bluff, Hand. 705—Dick Merriwell’s Best Form / PRICE, FIVE CENTS PER COPY if you want any back numbers of our weeklies and cannot procure them from your newsdealer, they can be ; obtainéd direct from this office. Postage stamps taken the same as money. STREET @ SMITH. Publishers, 79 Seventh Ave., New York City) rn RR et all ES hats: Sata Sie ws stench See ental Ret ae “SAG ne sheila: PA Ly ay Uo ea Re OF OR TT TIP TOP WEEKLY ARE PRESERVED IN THE NEW MEDAL LIBRARY The following books in the NEW MEDAL LIBRARY con- tain numbers 1 to 417 of the TIP TOP WEEKLY. Many of the individual numbers before 417 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 167— Frank 178—Frank 184—Frank 189—Frank 193—F rank 197—Frank 201—Frank 205—F rank 209—F rank 213—Frank 217—Frank 225—Frank 2290—F rank °233—Frank 237—F rank 240—F rank 244—F rank 247—F rank 251—Frank 254—F rank 258—Frank 262—Frank 267—F rank 271—Frank 276—Frank 280—Frank 284—F rank 288—Frank 292—Frank 296—Frank 300—F rank _ 304—Frank 308—F rank op 312—Frank Merriwell’s School-days. Merriwell’s Chums. Merriwell’s Foes. Merriwell’s Trip West. Merriwell Down South. Merriwell’s Bravery. Merriwell’s Hunting Tour. Merriwell in Europe. Merriwell at Yale. Merriwell’s Sports Afield. Merriwell’s Races. Merriwell’s Bicycle Tour. Merriwell’s Courage. Merriwell’s Daring. Merriwell’s Athletes. Merriwell’s Skill. Merriwell’s Champions. Merriwell’s Merriwell’s Secret. Merriwell’s Danger. Merriwell’s Loyalty. Merriwell in Camp. Merriwell’s Vacation. Merriwell’s Cruise. Merriwell’s Chase. Merriwell. in Maine. Merriwell’s Struggle. Merriwell’s First Job. Merriwell’s Opportunity. Merriwell’s Hard Luck. Merriwell’s Protégé. Merriwell on the Road. Merriwell’s Own Company. Merriwell’s Fame. Merriwell’s Collece Chums. *316—Frank Merriwell’s Problem. 320—Frank Merriwell’s Fortune. 324—F rank Merriwell’s New Comedian. Return to Yale. 328—F rank 332—F rank 336—Frank 340—F rank 344—F rank Merriwell on the Boulevards. 348—Frank 352—Frank 356—Frank Merriwell’s Baseball Victories 359—F rank 362—F rank 365—F rank 368—F rank 371—Frank 374—F rank 377—Frank 380—Frank 383—Frank 386—Frank 389—F rank 392—F rank 305—Frank 398—Frank 40I—Frank 404—Frank 407—F rank 410—Frank 413—Frank 416—Frank 2 Merriwell’s Prosperity. Merriwell’s Stage .Hit. Merriwell’s Great Scheme. Merriwell in England. Merriwell’s Duel. Merriwell’s Double Shot. Merriwell’s Confidence. Merriwell’s Auto. Merriwell’s Fun. Merriwell’s Generosity. Merriwell’s Tricks. Merriwell’s Temptation. Merriwell on Top. Merriwell’s Luck. Mertiwell’s Mascot. Merriwell’s Reward. Merriwell’s Phantom. Merriwell’s Faith. Merriwell’s Victories. Merriwell’s Iron Nerve. Merriwell in Kentucky. Merriwell’s Power. Merriwell’s Shrewdness. Merriwell’s Set-back. Merriwell’s Search. Merriwell’s Club. 419—Frank Merriwell’s Trust. 422—Frank 425—Frank 428—Frank 431—Frank 434—Frank 437—Frank Merriwell’s False Friend. Merriwell’s Strong Arm. Merriwell as Coach. Merriwell’s Brother. Merriwell’s Marvel. 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—F rank Merriwell’s Honor. 473—Dick Merriwell’s Diamond. 476—lFrank 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. 404—Dick Merriwell’s Mystery. 497—F rank 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. 5s21—Dick Merriwell’s Disguise. Published About July 13th. 524—Dick Merriwell’s Test. Published About August 3rd. g27—Frank Merriwell’s Trump Card. Published About August 24th. 530—Frank Merriwell’s Strategy. Published About Septémber 14th. 533—Frank Merriwell’s Triumph. Published About October 5th 536—Dick Merriwell’s Grit. STREET & SMITH, Publishers, NEw YorRK CITY