y All readers of the renowned Tip Top stories should beware of base imitations,
CA placed upon the market under catch names very similar to Frank Merriwell,
= and intended to deceive.

|p TOF.

IDEAL PUBLICATION
FOR THE AMERICAN YOUTH

 

 

Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second-class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-8 Seventh Ave., N. ¥.

NEW YORK, MARCH 10, 1906. Price, Five Cents

IWELLS FRENDLY

 

 

 

Hy

 

oy. ee as
BURT L.STANDISH *
At last Dick went at the bag in earnest, and the swiftness of his movements were truly bewildering.
He actually made the bag hum against the disk.

 

 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘aoe Issued Weekly. By subscription $2 50 per year.

, No. 547.

%

{
{

CHAPTER I.

THE SENTIMENT OF THE SCHOOL.

“There’s Tip yanking his head off!’

“Good old Tip!”

“Tip, the maniac-catcher !”’

“By George, boys, he’s a fine-built little chap!”

“That’s what he is!”

“Tip’s all right!”
_ Mixer was laboring at the rowing-machine in the
gymnasium, perspiring profusely and apparently pay-
ing no attention to the comments of the boys who
had gathered in that vicinity. Nevertheless, he could
not help hearing much that was said, and their words
- aroused within him a glow of self- aati tlaciiont
“Tell you what I'll do, fellows,” said Win Merser,
who was one of the group. “I'll lay a bet with any
one that Mixer beats Smart out for the position of
_ coxswain on the crew.’
_ “Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Milford Jett.
| cde strikes me that Ted Smart has that position nailed

 

  
  
   
 
  
    
  
   
 

   

ake : | By BURT L. STANDISH.

‘doesn’t—he doesn’t try to run it:

Entered as Second-class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-& Seventh Avenue,
N.Y, Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1906, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, at

NEW YORK, March 10, 1906.

Price Five Cents.

DICK MERRIWELL’S FRIENDLY HAND

OR,

ae THE BOY WHO WAS SAVED.

 

already. Mixer is a new man, while Smart has a
pull with the powers.”

“I'd like to know what you mean by ‘the powers’ Py
inquired Oscar Jones, one of the athletic committee.

“Didn’t know you were here, Jones,” confessed Jett.
“Around this school Dick Merriwell is regarded as
something of a power, and every one knows Smart is
one of Merriwell’s friends.”’

“T don’t like that sort of talk!” exclaimed Jones
resentfully. “There seems to be a false impression
that Merriwell runs the athletic committee. He
Occasionally we
ask him for advice, as every fellow in the school knows
he’s the best-posted chap on athletics at Fardale. We
have asked his advice about the crew. How much do
you suppose we got out of it?” :

“Give it up,” answered Jett.

“Well, we didn’t get a thing. He told us he had his
hands full with baseball and other things and didn’t
care to meddle in rowing.’

“That’s all right,” said Jett, “but when the Gane if
 

   

2 * TEP ‘TOP WEEKLY.

comes to make up the crew, isn’t he going to give you
some suggestions? Even if he doesn’t, won’t you fel-
lows feel like pteferring his particular friends?”

“Not on your life! We'll make up the crew out of
the best material available. There’s never been any
preference shown toward any fellow because he was
Merriwell’s particular friend. I know some chaps
think this is not trué, but they’re mistaken. In fact,
there have been occasions when Merriwell has recom-
mended for selection fellows. who were not friendly
to him—fellows who were really his enemies.
any one knows that he urged the committee to give
Chet Arlington more than.one show.”

“Oh, Jett is getting you on the .string, Jones,”
laughed Merser. “When it comes down. to a matter
of friendship, I wotldn’t wonder if Merriwell thinks
as much of Mixer as he does of Smart. We're all
aware that Dick picked Tip up before the rest of us
recognized the stuff there is in him.”

“Tip’s all right,” put in another boy.
says so now.”

oat wasn't so very long ago,” reminded Barron
Black, “that everybody was calling him a coward.
Funny how the fellows have changed their tune. Be-
tween us right here, we’ve got to acknowledge that
Merriwell was the one with discernment who recog-
nized Mixer wasn’t a craven. A short time ago we
were all turning up our noses at Mixer, and now we’re
all kotowing to him.”

“Well, he’s a dandy!’ asserted Louie Toddles.
“All the newspapers have been telling about the way
he captured that madman and prevented the murder
of one of his enemies.”

“That bunch of fellows must feel pretty fine over
it!” laughed Merser. ‘“They were trying to scare
Mixer into fits. “Captured him and carried him off
to an old deserted house, where one of them stretched
himself on a table, with a sheet over him, and pre-
tended to be a corpse. Then they gave Tip a knife and
told him he’d have to cut a thumb off the corpse in
order to show his netve. Wasn’t it queer that the
crazy médical student was hidden in a closet of. that
very room?” | | |

“Queer!” exclaimed Black. “T’'ll bet those chaps
felt queer when that crazy man jumped out on them,
seized the knife, grabbed the fellow on the table, and
announced that he was going to do some carving on
his own hook.”

_ “Why, they say the whole bunch was frightened to

death. Only for Mixer the lunatic would have carved
the chap on the table. Up to that point Mixer had
seemed scared ott of his wits. When he realized that
something had to be done in order to save one of his
enemies from the maniac’s knife, he just sduntered up
to the lunatic, as cool as a etcttmber. Then he put
in a little jiu-jitsu which Metriwell had been teach-
ing him, threw the mad medical student over his
head, pinned him to the floor, and held him until
Merriwell and the constable’s posse came in and: se-

“Everybody

Almost. -

“cured him. No wonder Mixer has the adtniration of

the whole school.”

The boy under discussion stopped his work and
sprang up from the rowing-machine. His cheeks were
glowing, and there was a sparkle in his bltie eyes.

At once the boys crowded about him, laughing, jo-
king, and showering admiration upon him.

“You're getting up an awful muscle, Tip,”
Win Merser.

“You bet!’ cried Mixer. “Oh, I’m an athlete!’

“You had to be pretty clever at something in order
to handle that mad student,’ observed Phil Foster.
“Say, Tip, old fellow, I don see how you did it.”

“Want to see?” laughed the blue-eyed boy.

“Yes,” nodded Foster. “I'd like to know how you
ever threw a big man over your head and then pinned
him down. I wish you'd show me.’

Quick as a flash Tip Mixer seized Foster’s wrist,
snapped the fellow’s arm across his shoulder, and
sent him flying through the air.

Foster landed heavily on the floor several feet away.

“That’s how I did it!’ cried Mixer.

Foster seemed dazed by the shock. Tip’s manner
suddenly changed. He sprang forward quickly and
bent over Phil, anxiously inquiring:

“Did it hurt you? I hope I didn’t hurt you!”

“Oh, no,”
ing the truth, “you didn’t hurt me a bit.”

At this point the other boys of the group began to
laugh and guy Phil.

“You wanted to see how he did it,” reminded
Merser. :

“He showed you, all right,” said Jett.

“Want to try it again?” inquired Toddles.

“Excuse me,” muttered Foster,
and shoulder and making a wry face; “I don’t believe
V’ll try it again. Once is enough for me, thank you.”
This brought another shout of laughter from the
boys. ;

Inwardly Foster was exasperated and angry, al-
though he tried to conceal the fact.

“That little runt thinks he’s too smart,”
commented. “He needs to have some of it taken out
of him. I'll get back at him.”

He could not wholly conceal his chagrin, which
caused the boys to guy him all ne more.

“T’m glad I didn’t hurt you,” said Mixer.

said

“Still

2 know lots of fellows have expressed doubts of my

being able to throy a heavy man over my head. To
tell you the honest truth, fellows, I didn’t really know
I could do it until I did it. Merriwell had taught me
how the trick was performed, but a fellow never
knows what he really can do until he’s tested. [ll skip
along and take my shower.”

As soon as possible Phil Foster got away from the ~ 3

boys, who were inclined to joke him over what had
happened.
toward the bath-room.

»The shower-bath was located inside a cagé of pi-
ping, from which sprays cotild be turned on a bather

/

 
   

said Foster, although he was not speak-

rubbing his arm.

he mentally -

Having escaped, Foster turned his steps

 

 

 

   
   
 
  
  

   

 

 
  
    
   

    

TiP

 

 

from all directions. Outside this cage there was a
main switch, by which the hot and cold water sup-
plied could be turned on in full force.
Mixer was taking a cold shower.
beat upon him seemed hissing from every vent.
was completely enveloped in a whirling spray.
On perceiving the situation, a sudden revengeful
impulse seized upon Phil Foster. There was a ‘door
to the cage, and this he quickly closed with a clang,
shooting the bolt which held it. Immediately he
} . sprang to the main switch and threw it far over onto
the signal marked, “Hot.”
; “Now boil, you little runt—boil!” grated Phil, as
. he turned and dusted out of the bath-room. .

- CHAPTER IL

A. CLOSE CALL:

The water that
He

 

_. Mixer heard the gate slam and wondered at it.
Through the spray he caught a glimpse of a figure,
which suddenly rushed out of the room and disap-
peared.

A moment later Tip uttered a yell of ‘on ptinean

The colél spray had turned warm.

With a leap, the little fellow reached the gate and
tried to open it.

In vain.

The water grew hotter and hotter as it poured upon
| him. It stung him and seemed to blister his skin.

| Shouts of distress burst from the imprisoned boy.

* As rapidly as possible, he started to turn off the
| ~ various switches which were pouring those scalding

streams upon him. In the midst of that hissing pother
of water and steam his groping hands failed readily to
find the unseen switches.
Mixer was in great danger of being scalded to
- death.
“Oh! oh!” he choked. “Help! help!”
_ The gate was flung open, and a strong hand seized
his wrist, yanking him forth from the midst of the
_ steam and spray with one powerful surge,

| __ Tip fell sprawling upon the floor, where he gasped
‘Nolen and: writhed.
ee “What the dickens have you been doing to your-
self?” exclaimed the voice of Dick Merriwell. ‘Have

_ you gone daffy, Mixer? What do you mean by turn-
i ing on the hot water and locking yourself in there? he

“T_T didn’t!” gasped Tip.

Py: LOU didn’t?”

2 Ps on 0.”

“But I found you

“Some one fastened me in! |

a hot water!” 3 }

_. Buckhart was there. Both he and Dick had been
- working in the baseball cage, at the finish of which

_ they proceeded to the bath-room for a shower. Mer-
_riwell’s quick wit had led him to act instantly on per-

ceiving a human figure in the midst of the hissing

shower of steam and spray.

 

 

 

 

 

Some one turned on the

   
  
   
 
  
  
 

  

TOP

  

WEEKLY. 3

“Whoop!” cried the Texan. “Whatever is this you
say, littlé pard? Somebody fastened you in and tur ned
on the hot water?”

“Yes, that’s right,” declared Tip.

“The onery varmint!” grated Brad.
to be lynched!”

“It’s up to us to doctor Mixer in a hurry, Buck-
hart,” said Dick. “Hustle to my locker and bring me
that bottle of rubbing oil. He may be badly scalded.”

The Texan rushed out of the room, while Dick
secured a heavy towel and began gently drying the
body of the blue-eyed boy.

“Do you think you were scalded, Mixer?” he ques-
tioned anxiously. ‘Your skin is looking rather red.”

“T don’t know,” confessed Tip. “It was an awful ©
shock, the change from cold to hot water. Still, I
don’t suppose the water could get scalding hot all of
a sudden.”

“Tt had to force the cold water from the pipes
first, and then it was necessary to heat the pipes.
You'll be lucky if you weren’t parboiled.”

Brad returned with the bottle of oil, and together
he and Dick began to apply it to Mixer’s body.

“My goodness, that feels fine!” breathed the little
chap. “I wonder if I’ll be able to put my clothes on.”

“T don’t believe you're really scalded,” assured Dick.
“It was a close call. We'll have to find out who did
the trick. He ought to be properly punished.”

In a few minutes Mixer declared he was feeling all
right. The superfluous oil was carefully wiped from
his body, and Merry noted with satisfaction that the
lad was free from pain.

“T believe you're all right,” he nodded. “Go ahead
and dress, Tip. We'll be along as soon as we take
our shower.” 3 |

“And if any varmint tries to turn the hot water on
us, we'll certainly go after his topknot,” observed the
Texan. :

Mixer found several boys in the dressing-room and
proceeded to tell them what had happened to him in-
the bath. Their indignation flared up at once, and all
united in saying the fellow.who did the trick must be
one of Tip’s original enemies.

Phil Foster came strolling in, with a canelead air.

“Great Scott!” he cried, after being told about the
affair in the bath-room. “Who would do a trick like |
that ?”

“T wish you'd tell me!” muttered Tip.

“Tf you knew, I suppose you'd try a little jiu-jitsu —
to him.”

“T’'d feel like trying something to him.”

“Forgive your efiemies,” suggested Horace Logan.

“Not when they try to scald me to death.”

“That’s right, Tip—that’ s right!” cried several. —
“Soak your enemies is a better motto. You can do ©
it, too.”

“IT can try it,” nodded Mixer. ae

Dick and Brad came in, While dressing, they lis- —
tened without comment to the talk of the boys. Once —
they exchanged glances. ceo

“He ought

1
i

4

 

 

 

  
the custom of most successful men.

 

   

4

 

  

Finally the Texan stepped close to Dick and whis-
pered:

“I’m afraid your protégé is getting a bad case of the
inflated cranium.”

“Yes,” nodded Dick, “too much praise and petting
has turned his head. He still has something to learn.”

CHAPIER HE:
THE WEAKNESSES OF HEROES.

Few persons there are to whom praise and admira-
tion are not agreeable. Take one who has known
nothing but ridicule and disdain all his life and let
him suddenly find himself the object of general ad-
miration, and he must either be old and pessimistical
or old and wise, else the sudden change will turn his
head.

Tip Mixer was in a precarious position. Having
always regarded himself as a coward and having been
so regarded by: nearly every one who knew him well,
the blue-eyed boy’s natural self-confidence had been
entirely suppressed. Self-confidence, when properly
controlled by judgment and modesty, is a splendid
thing. Uncontrolled, it quickly develops into self-
conceit, than which there is no more odious trait of
character.

Great men, successful men, men of unusual ability,
are: inv ariably men possessing much self- confidence.
They believe in themselves, knowing their own ability
aii¢ any times—their own limitations.

Once in awhile a man of unusual attainments is self-
conceited. Invariably he is more or less obnoxious to
those who are compelled to associate with him inti-
mately. Self-conceit places him in a precarious posi-
tion, as it is liable to lead him into excesses by which
he will overstep himself and bring about his own
downfall.

No one believed more thoroughly in self-confidence
than did Richard Merriwell. At the same time, Dick
had learned the danger of self-conceit, and always
sought to discover and repress symptoms of it in him-
self.

Dick was an unusual boy in the respect that he

     

sought to analyze himself, his character, his emotions,

his ability, and tried to form an accurate judgment as

to his limitations. Few boys do this. As a rule, it is
:

The boy is too young, too impulsive, too inexperi-
enced, and too headstrong to calmly set about such a
task. It.is experience, both in the way of successes
and failures, that finally leads him, with advancing
years, to make an effort to properly gage his own ca-
pacity.

It was the most natural thing in the world that Tip

Mixer should feel elated, uplifted, and flattered over
‘tie sudden change of treatment accorded him by his
schoolfellows. Beyond question, he had done a brave
and nervy thing. Beyond question, he was the last
lad in Fardale of whom such a brave and nervy thing

TIP: TOP

 

     
 

WEEKLY.

  

could have been expected. For this very reason he
received doubly the amount of praise and laudation
that another lad might have received.

He was not prepared for it. His experience in life
had not fitted him to accept this praise and discount it
for exactly what it was worth. The boys who had
shunned him or sneered at him now flocked about
him, eager to be recognized as his friend, and Tip’s
curly head was in peril of being turned. In fact, it
was twisted slightly.

“Why,” he told himself, “I am a remarkable per-

son. I didn’t realize it, but I am built of heroic ma-
terial. Not many fellows would have done what I
did. It’s true that I didn’t really realize the danger

until it was all over, but that makes me all the more
of a hero. I don’t blame them for admiring me.”
Yes, Tip's head was twisted—it was very nearly
turned.
Brad Buckhart dicsoered this and spoke of it to
Dick. Already Merriwell had felt some apprehension

over the possibility of such a thing. He knew it would.

be a simple matter to spoil the unsophisticated blue-
eyed-boy. Dick didn’t wish to see Tip spoiled, for
he believed there was good material in Mixer, and he
was convinced that, with proper guidance, the little
chap would develop into a smart and capable man.

“T’ll have to find an opportunity to talk to him,”
thought Dick.

Having dressed, Buckhart hurried. away to his
room, in order to put in some “grinding,” being in
peril of “conditions,” which might prevent him from
entering actively into baseball in the spring.

Dick lingered awhile, listening to the talk of the
boys and noting particularly Mixer’s words and man-
ner. He refrained from calling Tip away, and finally
strapped his trousers about his ankles, with the idea
of setting out for one of his brisk walks in the open
air.

Barely was he outside the gym when Mixer came
running after him, calling his name. 3

“Hold on, Dick!” cried the little chap.
jog along with you.”

Dick paused and looked Mixer over sharply.

“T think you hadn’t better,” he said.

“Eh? Why not?” questioned Tip, in surprise.

“You're taking chances.”

“How Pe

“Have you forgotten as soon as this what happened
while you were taking your shower ?”

“Oh, not at all.”

“Instead of finishing with a cold spray you wound
If you walk in the open air now |
It’s a bad day, anyhow, for this —

up with a hot one.
you may take cold.
air is heavy, and it’s going to snow.’

Mixer looked disappointed.

“I don’t believe you want me,” he muttered. j

At this point Merriwell made up his mind that the

time had come to talk with Tip and give him a bit ’

“Buck-

of advice.

“I think I'll cut the walk myself,” he said.

“Think Tl |

 

 

aa tn ia ec
oe —— —_ 7

—= --* AD AS

  

 

 
   
  
 

      
 

| hart’s in our room. I’d like to have a chat with you,
Mixer, but I suppose we’d bother Brad. I wonder if
your roommate is in?” A
“Oh, no; he’s in the gymnasium now.”
“Then let’s go up to your room.”
“All right!” cried Tip readily. “Come on!”
' They mounted the stairs and entered Mixer’s room.
Dick looked around with some interest.
q “This is a better room than you had with Fraser,”
| he observed.
a “Oh, yes,” nodded Mixer. “TI didn’t like Fraser’s
room, and I lost no time in asking permission to room
with Tompkins after he invited me. I’ve had enough
of Fraser.”

He pushed forward a chair for Merriwell to sit
down, but, instead of sitting, Dick leaned on the back
of the chair, regarding the blue-eyed boy critically.

“T suppose Fraser was relieved when you left the
room ?”

a “Oh, I don’t know about that. I don’t really think
| so. In fact, he asked me not to leave.”

“Did he?”

rye.
anyhow. Said the fellows would suspect him of being
concerned in that hazing business if I quit him so
soon.”

“But you quit him.”

“T should say I did! You know how he treated
me before he found out the sort of fellow Iam. He
imposed on me.’

“That’s quite trué,” acknowledged Dick, “You've
never accuséd Fraser of taking part in that hazing ?”’

“You told me not to,” reminded Mixer, “You told
me not to accuse any one. Professor Gunn tried to

_ get me to make an accusation, but I tcé&d him all the
fellows were masked, and I didn’t feel like swearing
| to the identity of any one of them.”

-} “Are you aware that your action in refusing to
bring charges against those fellows has caused much
Hof the admiration lately showered on you?” |

| “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

| “But Ido. The boys have decided that you’re not
| a squealer. Had you stated your belief that Fraser
| and others whom you could name were concerned in
| that business, the following investigation must have
| resulted in the expulsion of several chaps.”

“Well, they certainly deserved it!”

ye “They did,” nodded Dick. “At the same time, it
| would have hurt you in the eyes of every fellow ‘at
| school. I’m not certain but that the boys admire you
{| fully as much for keeping your mouth shut as they
| do for your nerve in tackling that mad student. Had
ae. You peached, the action would have done much to off-
a. set \the impression made by. your brave act. Notice
that I call it a brave act, Mixer. Still, I’m not flat-
tering you. Neither you nor f are the only fellows
in the world who do things. Under the same circum-

stances another boy—many other boys—might have
done as much, or even more. I like praise and ad-
miration, Mixer. I don’t know any one who doesn’t

 

 

  
   
  
  
   
  
  

  

Asked me to stay with him awhile longer,

 

  

TIP TOP WEEKLY. 5

like it. Still, a fellow mustn’t permit it to give him
a false estimation of himself. He must realize when
he does an unusual thing: which awakens admiration
among his fellows that the emotion aroused is a pass-
ing one. He must realize that he still has weaknesses
and failings, and that, through some weakness, he
may within a very short time offset the effect created
by his unusual act. Not only that, but people are in-
clined to let their admiration die out, and it is not
long before they come to treat heroes like ordinary
beings. You have a lot of friends round you now—
temporary friends, all of them more or less eager to
share your glory by a little reflection of it, which may
fall on them if they are near enough to you. After
awhile, if things run along smoothly in the usual
rut, and nothing happens to keep you permanently
before the eyes of your schoolmates, the fellows who
flock about you now will begin to fall away and turn
their attention to other idols. If you expect they will
continue to shower you. with praise and admiration,
you're going to feel disappointed in the end.”

“T haven't stopped to think much about that,”
fessed Tip.

“I don’t suppose you have.
if you do think of it now.”

“But don’t you ever feel elation when you do some-
thing unusual and the fellows crowd around you and
cheer and raise a great fuss over you?”

“I’m human,” laughed Dick. “I acknowledge that
it often gives mea thrill. I shall be sorry when such
things cease to thrill me, if that time ever comes.
Nevertheless, no matter how much fuss or excitement
they raise over something I’ve done, I try to bear in
mind the fact that lots of fellows would have done
the same thing or better. I try to bear in mind the
fact that I was given the opportunity to do it, and that
I owe a great deal to that. Lots of fellows are never
given opportunities to show what they can do. They
have the right stuff in them, but the course of events
gives them no chance to demonstrate the fact. Those
fellows are just as worthy of admiration as I am.”

“There were four other fellows with me when that
maniac seized Fraser and tried to cut him up. Not
one of those fellows did anything to help Fraser.”

“That’s right. They happened to be four fellows
who lacked the nerve, the resourcefulness, the judg-
ment to act at the proper moment. Don’t forget,
Mixer, that there is a lot of truth in the old saying,
‘Birds of a feather flock together.’ Don’t think be-
cause those four boys failed to do anything for Fraser,
while you did the thing which saved Fraser’s life, that
they are fair samples of all boys and you are a re-
markable exception.”

By this time Mixer’s face was flushed, and he looked
decidedly uneasy.

/ “T know one thing,’ he aba “You'r re con-
sidered an exception in almost everything you do. I.
know a great many fellows who think there’s no other
chap quite your equal.”

“They're mistaken,” “Tm

con-

It will be best for you

declared Dick quietly.

 

    
  

 

6

just an.ordinary boy, who tries to do his best. Some-
times I realize I fail—sometimes I do not do my best.
More than once it has happened that, in thinking an
incident over,
could have done better than I did under the circum-
stances.”

“That’s queer,” murmured Tip.
you ever felt that way.”

“Now, don’t think you’re going to remain a hero to
the end of all time just because you’re rated as a hero
at present. Maybe you nor I will never have another
opportunity to do anything unusual. Unless we do
have an opportunity, we’ll seem very ordinary in the
course of time to those who know us intimately.
We'll both make mistakes, for we’re both human. Re-

19

“T didn’t suppose

member: Dewey, the man who set the whole country.

afire with admiration. And don’t forget how that
admiration was quenched and suddenly seemed to die
out becatise of a perfectly human act on his part, which
appeared to the public to be an indication of weakness.
Remember Hobson and the Merrimac. Hobson was
human, as after events proved. Yet Hobson is no less
a hero to-day than he was when he took the Merrimac
into the mouth of Santiago Harbor amid a rain of
iron death that riddled the old craft. When Hobson
and his companions turned the prow of the Merrimac
toward the mouth of that harbor the chances seemed
about a million to one that none of them would ever
come through that expedition alive. The trouble with
most heroes is not that their human weaknesses make
them any less a hero, but that the public places them
on a pinnacle and expects them to be something more
than human beings. The moment the’ great fickle
public, that has yelled itself hoarse over some chosen
idol, discovers that the idol’s feet are built of clay, it
: promptly seizes a club and knocks the idol off the ped-
estal. It seems as if the public takes particular de-
light in smirching a great man who has risen above
the “masses through unusual accomplishments or
through the ability to grasp an opportunity. _ You're
in a dangerous position, Mixer. You’ve been placed
on a pedestal. It’s pretty fine up where you are now.
You can look over the heads of the very fellows who
have been so eager to lift you to your perch. But I

doubt if you realize that down below in the throng,

of admirers are scores who stand ready to pull you
down and trample on you at the first indication of
ordinaty human weakness. In order to remain on
your pedestal, Tip, you've got to be perfect. There
are no perfect. mortals.”

“TI suppose that’s right,” admitted the little fellow. |

“T’ve never really thought of it in that light.”
“That’s why I’m talking to you in this way,’
plained Dick. “I want to make you think.”

UCELAPSEIAN LY,
GOOD INFLUENCE AND BAD.

: es his fingers and laughed.
oe no admission is charged: for this lec-

FLOP WEEKLY.

I’ve decided that some one I knew °

Tait, Colson, Shaw, and Hoke. Now,
one of those fellows has been in the gym to-day.” |
“Then who did it?” cried Tip. a

* éx-

         

   

ture,” he said humorously, “we’ll now pass around
the hat and hope the audience will contribute liberally.
Not from any selfish motive on the part of the lecturer,
but simply because he needs the money.” |

His manner changed once more. i

“Don’t think I am trying to pose, Mixer,” he went |
on. “If I have any worthy ideas on this subject, they 7
come through the example of my brother. I give him 4
the credit. He had to fight his way alone, without |
the example of an older brother. I’ve had the benefit |
of his experience. Now let’s talk of something else. |
Evidently you came through that hot bath all right.”

“Yes, thanks to you. I wasn’t.really scalded.”

“Do you really believe some one deliberately turned
the hot water on?”

“I know it. I saw him dusting out of the room. I |
couldn’t see him distinctly enough to recognize him, ‘a
becatise I was in the midst of the spray.” |

“Who was it?” | ie

“T’d like to know.
former enemies.”

“Do you really think so?”

“T feel sure of it.”

“Let me see. Your particular enemies were Fraser, |}
I don’t think =|

     
  
   
 

SOR ee ie te

A,

It must have been one of my —

 

“It must be that you have an enemy whom you ~
do not suspect. If such is the.case, doesn’t it go to —
prove the argument I’ve just made? Doesn’t it indi- 94
cate that some one envies you and is eager to injure 7
you! Pr? de a

“Why, I didn’t suppose any fellow would feel he
way toward me now.’ a

“Tt appears that you must be making other enemies. |
Now, what’s the reason:

“T wish you'd tell me.’ : |

“Perhaps some one thinks you're getting + touch “#
of the swelled head, Tip.’ a

“T don’t see how they could think so.’ ae
“Why, you have been very modest in the past—too te
modest. It’s likely some one fancies you’re becoming
too coffident and conceited. I’m almost sorry yon 4
didn’t remain with Fraser as a roommate.”

“You haven’t got anything ae Tompkins, have.
you ! ?? *

“No; Tompkins is naturally a smart reopen:

“He’s been fine to me. Pare tae

“Was he friendly toward you ae you captured Me
the crazy medical student?” f

“Oh, I never knew him before that.” iyi

“Fe’s been very friendly since. I didn’t come he
to discuss Tompkins, but I hope you'll not always fo
low his example in everything. Tompkins: should
have made the football-team last fall. I thought he
would. I hoped he would. We needed him. He was
confident he could qualify for the team. He told all
his friends he was going to make it. I understand he
wrote home that he had made the team. He played
once or twice. ne some respects he was a A good: mai

 

     
   
   
   
   
  
   
  
    
  
   
 

    
     
 

  

    
    

  
    
    

   

_ In other respects he was not. He proved to be a

fellow who is inclined to think more of himself and
what he can do in a game to attract particular at-
tention than of the success of the team as a whole.
af That’s where Tompkins failed. He was inclined to
| look after his own glory, and more than once he be-
|} trayed jealousy. I had a talk with him and tried to
4 instill the true Fardale spirit into him. It’s strange
| that a fellow who has been in school as long as Tomp-
| kins has should not possess the real spirit of the
a | school.”’

   
 

“I don’t know what you mean by the real spirit
of the school,” confessed Mixer.
J “Everything for old Fardale. The fellow who has
| the real spirit of the school unhesitatingly sacrifices
| himself for the honor and glory of the school. In a
| game he’s ready to assist his bitterest enemy to make
a brilliant play, forgetting and putting aside all enmity
in the one desire to win glory for Fardale. Tompkins
has one other bad quality. I’vé also tipped him off
on this point. He’s vacillating and changeable. I
don’t know the real cause of this, but I do know he
should overcome it.”
“I know he doesn’t think he got a square deal,”
said Mixer.
Dick walked over to the mantel and began to look
at some of the pictures upon it.
“That’s the way with lots of fellows who fail
through their own faults,” he said, as he took down
a photograph.
After inspecting the photograph a moment or two,
he started to replace it.
He paused, staring at something which had been
hidden behind the picture.
“Hello!” he exclaimed. ‘‘What’s this, Mixer?”
He turned toward Tip, a package of cigarettes in
his hand.
“Why, I—I—where did you find them ?” faltered
the little fellow.
“Behind that picture. Evidently some one tucked
them in there to hide them. Who owns these ciga-
rettes?””
“Not I.”

“Then they must belong to your roommate.”
“TI suppose they do.”

“It’s strange that I should discover the possible
cause of Tompkins’ vacillation,” said Merriwell. “I
didn’t suppose he smoked cigarettes. I know some
of the older fellows smoke cigars and pipes, although
_ it’s against the rules.”

“Oh, I don’t think Tompkins smokes much,” said
_ Tip hurriedly. 3

_“Any young fellow who smokes cigarettes at all is
pretty sure to smoke too much. In fact, the practise
_ of smoking them is too much. It’s been demonstrated
_ that excessive cigarette smoking makes a young chap
_ irresolute and vacillating. The things seem harmless
in themselves, but really they are seductive and. dan-
-gerous.”

 

  
    
  
   
    
   
   
   
  
  
   
   
  
   
    
 
  
 

 

TIB- TOP

 

WEEKLY. ; ”

 

“Oh, Nat says all this slobber about the harm
caused by cigarettes is rot.”

“So he says that, does he?
Mixer ?”’

“Why, I—I don’t—that is, I don’t smoke them—
as a rule,’ stammered Tip.

“How long have you been smoking cigarettes ?”’

“Not long.”

“When did you begin?” persisted Merriwell.

“Well, I don’t really, think I’ve begun. I tell you
I don’t smoke them as a rule. Once in awhile—per-
haps—~I smoke one—or part of one.’

“Let them alone, Tip. They can’t do you any good,
and they may do you a lot of harm. Every fellow
begins by smoking them once in awhile. After awhile
he smokes them oftener, and then it is not long before
he finds himself smoking them regularly. They hurt
a chap both physically and morally. You're trying to
become an athlete. You're seeking to build up -your-
self physically. Your ambition has been aroused.
These things will kill your ambition. You'll find that
they interfere with your wind. You may not be con-
scious of it, but they will deaden your brain and dis-
tort your judgment. They do their work so silently

Do you smoke them,

and insidiously that the victim seldom realizes what

is taking place. It’s difficult to find a boy who thinks
he’s being harmed by smoking. That is because the
harm creeps upon him stealthily and gradually, with-
out arousing his consciousness to the detrimental
change that is taking place. If he could see a sudden
decline in his physical powers or his mental ability, he
might become alarmed and quit cigarettes. He sees
no such sudden decline. He finds a certain sort of
pleasure and satisfaction in smoking. Often he smokes
with other chaps out of good comradeship, just as
many men who become drunkards drink with other
men out of good comradeship. The final injury is
fully as certain, though it comes slowly, as it would
be if it fell upon the smoker at a blow when he had
learned to indulge regularly in cigarettes. Don’t
smoke, Tip. Promise me you won’t.”

“Oh, all right!” cried Mixer. “If you want me to
promise, I will.”

Dick tossed the package on the mantel.

“TI haven’t paid a great deal of attention to Tomp-
kins lately. If he has other bad habits, don’t copy
them, Mixer. Think twice before you take up a habit
that may do you harm.”

“T want to do what’s right,” declared the blue-eyed
boy. “I’m following your directions in the gym. I
can row, and I know good form in rowing. The fel-
lows say I stand a chance to get onto the crew as cox.
T want to know what you think about it.”

“Why, I presume you do stand a chance.”

“You presume I do! Don’t you know? Can’t you
give me encouragement? I’ve been told that you
wotld express a preference for Smart.”

“The athletic committee has the matter in its hands.
I shall not express a preference for Smart or any one
else. Tl have my hands full with baseball.”

  
 

 

8 TIP TOP

“But you.row. I’ve seen you working at the row-
ing-machine a number of times.”

“Oh, yes, I row; but there are plenty of others. I’ll
not. be needed on the crew, and I may be needed ‘on
the nine,”

“May be? I should say so! Why, they couldn’t fill
your place if they tried a thousand years.”’

Again Dick laughed.

“Look out,” he warned... ‘““You may give me a case
of swelled head if you talk like that. Just keep at
your work, Tip, and be sure that you'll receive all the
recognition you deserve. There is no favoritism at
Fardale. We've been chinning quite awhile, haven’t
we? I think [’l! dust now.”

Five minutes. after Dick’s departure Nat Tompkins
came dancing into the room.

“Hello, Tip, old chum!” he cried pleasantly.
“What the dickens is the matter with you? You're
sitting there in a brown study. I declare you look as
if you were trying to solve the problem of the ages,’

“T’ve been thinking,” said Mixer.

“Did it hurt you much?” laughed Nat. “Say,
what’s this I hear about some one giving you a hot
bath in the gym?”

“Some one certainly did,” nodded Tip, and pro-
ceeded to tell his roommate all about the affair.

“T’ll bet it. was that sneak, Fraser!” exclaimed
Tompkins.

“Merriwell says he doesn’t think Fraser has been
in the gym to-day.”

“Does Merriwell keep tabs on everybody? If it
wasn’t Fraser, who was it? It must have been some
of those rank enemies of yours.”

“J don’t know who it was. If I did know, I’d feel
like doing something.”

ak you find out, you ought to give the cur a good
dose of jiu-jitsu. Jimminy! I’m glad to get in here.
I want a whiff. Where are my cigarettes?”

“On the mantel.” |

‘Tompkins placed his hands on his hips and glanced
at the cigarettes in full view on the mantel.

_ “Now, who put them there?” he cried. “T put them
somewhere. Can’t seem to remember where it was.
Why, seems to me it was behind a picture.”

“You did.” — !

“Well, it was mighty careless of you to take them
out and ‘leave them like that. I suppose you’ve been
taking a smoke by your lonesome. I don’t smell any
smoke in the room, though.”

“T haven’t been smoking.”

Tompkins took a cigarette from the package, which’

he then tossed into Mixer’s lap.
“Fire up,” he said.
Tip placed the package on the table.
MT ht don’t think [ll Spacice Nat. | In fact, I think T'll
eer ?
1 (Quit: 2?
PY ess":
_ “Why, what’s the matter ith you! a?
! eens! has been here, and we've had a talk.” %
i

29
ei t4

WEEKLY. | x

Tompkins whistled.

“Oh, that’s it!” he cried, with a touch of derision.
“Merriwell is a crank on cigarettes. He has a lot
of crazy ideas about them. Now, any one knows that
a good cigarette is made of good tobacco, wrapped
with rice paper. There’s nothing harmful about the
cigarette or the paper. All this gas about the harm
done with cigarettes makes me sick. You’re no baby,
Tip; you proved that a few days ago. Lots-of fel- —
lows think you’re babyish, but the way for you to | |
show them you're not is to be a real man. Smoke |
when you want to. Take a drink when you want to. |
Have a good time, but don’t carry it to excess. Now, |
I suppose Merriwell talked to you about ah
didn’t he?”

“No,” confessed Tip; “I didn’t let him know I
played.” a

“Well, that’s where you were sensible. Don’t tell J]
him everything you do. You're just beginning to —
show the fellows that you’re really a true sport. If
you quit now, they'll go back on you. You know |
there’s a little game om to-night. We've got it all |
arranged.” <

“I know,” muttered Tip, looking undecided and
troubled. ‘Perhaps I hadn’t better-—— ,

“Come out of it! come out of it! You’ve made a _
good impression, and you're not going to _ Spoil ite
now. Here, take a cigarette and smoke up.” cea

Tompkins forced a cigarette into Mixer’s fingers. an
Then he struck a match and held it for the little chap |
to light up. 7

Before this influence Mixer’s resolution wavered |
and failed. bh emi

“All right,” he said, lighting the cigarette. “I guess |
you're correct, Nat, old fellow. If I want to smoke |
occasionally, I’m going to smoke, and I don’t propose — 1.
to tell Merriwell everything I do.” Bo

*

 

  

CHAPTER V.
THE PUPIL IN CRIME.

 
   

Chester Arlington made frequent visits to wisi”
generally offering as an excuse for such visits the
statement that his mother was there and wished to.
see him as often as possible. .

Now, Chester’s mother had not been in Fardale for
many weeks, although this was not known to the prin- a
cipal of Fairport Academy. ;

Chet’s desire to visit Fardale came from quite an-
other reason thanthe one given. As often as possible
he induced Rand Blacklock to accompany him. , It
was his custom to remind Rand that “The suckers ‘are
still biting at Fardale while the fishing is dane ;
in’ Fairport.”

That Chet played cards for money. tid been hint
to Professor Glidden, although on investigation: oO
Prexie had found no positive proof against the accus
Jad. Nevertheless, the professor called Chester before
him i in private a gave him some straight talle,: ‘warn-

   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
   
  
  
 

  

  

      
    

 

    
   
    

Tak Se

  

ing him that it would mean his immediate dismissal
_ from school should it ever be found that he gambled.
| Arlington was rapidly developing into a card-sharp.
He professed to be very guileless and innocent of
crooked methods, but, day after day, he secretly prac-
_ tised manipulating the pasteboards.

“T’ve got to have the dough,” he told himself many
times. “My usual supply has been reduced until the

‘ allowance is so small that I can’t live on it like the son

|‘ ofagentleman. I won’t live like a pauper, and, there-
fore, I must find some way to raise the wind. This
is the simplest way.”

Arlington’s father, once believed to be a money
king and a man of vast power in the business world,
had met reverses and disaster until he was in very
straightened circumstances. The time had _ passed
when Chester’s mother could lavishly hand out money

| to her extravagant son. As long as possible she had

| kept him supplied by selling or pawning her personal
effects, but there was now very little left on which she
could secure anything.

Therefore, driven by necessity and his own extrava-
gant tastes, the boy turned his ingenuity into dishonest

channels. Rand Blacklock, his chum, was the only

} one who knew for a fact that Chester could cheat at

cards. In almost every game in which both these boys

_ played, Rand acted as Arlington’s accomplice. Often

Chester seemed to lose slightly, but invariably on such

| occasions Blacklock was a heavy winner. In this man-

q _ ner Chester diverted suspicion from himself, while in

| private, after the game was over, the two rascals di-
| vided their plunder.

| port as a most unusual chap, who never drank, never

7 smoked, and had no little vices, within a few weeks he

had taken up card- -playing under the instructions of

_ Arlington, led into it by the promise of easy winnings.

He did not play cards from a love of the game. In

4 i eas the fellow seemed to have no enthusiasm for any-
; Rr It had been no easy matter for Chester to
| start him at card-playing, but in the very first game
| in which Rand participated he astonished his chum
by the veteranlike manner in which he handled the
 pasteboards.

“Great Scott!” Chet afterward exclaimed; “I can
hardly believe you’ve never played poker before!
Why, you knew the value of every hand, and you bet
your cards for all they were worth!”

- Blacklock shrugged his shoulders.

_ “T haven’t been following you around all this time
or nothing,” he said. “You know I’ve sat and
watched you play night after night. While looking
on, I’ve learned the game. That’s the explanation.”
_ “Well, you’re a good one!” cried Chester. “To-
gether, we'll make a hot combination.” \

_ “But I’ve sort of spoiled my moral standing,” ob-
served Blacklock, with a sneer on his dark face. “You
know I’ve been a’ model fellow. Never had a vice.

ou’re to blame for my downfall, contri ma
gambler now.” :

 

 

   
 

  

    

  

 

Although Blacklock was regarded by many at Fair-.,

WEEKLY. 9

“Well, you’ re all the better for having some sort
of a vice,” asserted Chet. “Wait until you take to
drink. You'll be a bird!” |

“Wait until Ido! What good would it do me to
drink? | I don’t want the stuff, and I couldn’t make
any money by drinking it. - It'll be a long time before
you see me doing that.”

“Perhaps so, but you never can tell.
gets started, he’s liable to go the limit. I used to be a
little saint myself. You wouldn’t think it, would you,
Rand, old pal? It’s a fact. I can remember the first
drink I ever took. I can remember the first game
of cards I ever played for money. Like you, I once
adjured profanity. Oh, yes, I was a model, too. I
was soft and sappy. Soft and sappy fellows are sick-
ening.”

“I don’t believe any one ever thought of calling me
soft and sappy,” said Rand.

These two fellows arrived in Fardale one Friday
evening and engaged a room at the principal hotel,
where Chester was well known.

“T’d like to, get that fellow, Ring, into the game
to-night,” said Chet. “I’d like to go after him once
more.”

“Better let him alone,” advised Blacklock. ‘You
had him foul once, and you fixed things to suit your-
self. Then you made a miserable mess of it all by try-
ing to see how much whisky you could carry through
a game of indoor baseball. I can see something in
card-playing for money, but I can’t see anything in
drinking and spending good money for the stuff that
makes a fool of you.”

“Oh, let up on that!’ growled Arlington. \ “You’ve
harped away about how I made a fool of myself that
night until I’m tired of hearing it.”

“You know it’s the truth,”

“No, I don’t know it’s the truth!’

“Well, I do. You might have won that game and
thus triumphed over Merriwell. I warned you about
drinking. You chased into the dressing-room be-
tween innings until you had a jolly good load on.
Then those Fardale fellows began hitting the ball, and
you didn’t have sense enough to let some one else
pitch.”

Chester shrugged his shoulders.

“You were mighty sore about it after the game was
over,’ he observed. “If you’d stuck by me, Percy
Ring could not have followed me through the alley
back of the rink and secured those IO U’s. As it
was, he needed the assistance of Merriwell and Buck-
hart to take them away from me.”

“What were those slips good for,
couldn’t collect on them.”

“But I could embarrass Ring with them. I wonder

Once a fellow

Chet? You

if he did offer to resign from the Fardale Athletic |
He said he was going to, but he’s still.

Committee.
chairman.”
“Tt doesn’t make any difference to us.’

“T’m not so sure of that. It may make some differ-
ence to me.’

   
    
     
     
     
     
     
    
     
       
 
    
       
    
  
     
    
   

 
  

IO TP EOP

“T don’t see how. You’re out of athletics at Fair-

port,”

“Perhaps you think -so.”

“It’s pretty evident that you are.”’

“You wait and see, Rand, my boy. Oh, the fellows
quit on me after that game. . My indoor baseball-team
blew up; I acknowledge that.”

“Yes, and you are practically barred from the regu-
lar baseball-team. They don’t want you, and they’re
not going to have you.”

“Tell you what Pll do, Tl bet you two to one that
I make the Fairport nine this spring.”

“I don’t see how you're going to do it.”

“That’s all right.. When I determine to do a thing
like that, I havea way of getting there. I’m keeping
still just now in order to let the fellows forget the
past. When the right time comes to move, you'll see
me moving. I’m going to play on the nine, and I’m
going to pitch against. Fardale.”’

“Possibly you will, but you'll pardon me if I con-
tinue: to doubt,’ I don’t care about that, anyhow.
What I’m speculating on just now is how many suck-
ers will we hook this evening, and how much dough
can we get out of them. Who’s going to be here?”

“Silkley, of course.”

“He doesn’t count. You've already stripped him.”

~ “He counts because he’ll bring along the others. I
understand there’ll ‘be one or two new men in the
game. Of course, you heard the fellows talking about
the Fardale chap who captured that mad medical
student.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Well, he’ll be here. He’s found himself very popu-
lar since his heroic action, and he’s trying to be a
sport.”

“T hope he comes well supplied with loose change.”
muttered Blacklock.

 

CHAPTER VI. .

FISHERMEN AND SUCKERS.

Vance Silkley was the first to arrive at Arlington’s
room that evening.

“Hello, Silk, old sport!” cried Chester heartily, as
he shoole hands with Vance. “Glad to see you. Make
yourself comfortable. There’s cigarettes and fire-
water on ‘the table.”

“How do you do, Silk,” bowed Blacklock, without
offering his hand.

“T don’t suppose I Sight to come here to-night,” ob-

served Vance, as he took a seat and lighted a ciga-

rette.
“Why not?” aliaintetied Chester. “Ought not to
come? What are you talking about?’
“Merriwell is onto me. I think he’s watching me.”
_‘ “Well, he might be in better business!” sneered
Blacklock. .
“He has an idea I’m leading some of the fellows
_ astray,” laughed the Fardale lad.

        

“You know he

WEEKLY.

{

sort of sets himself up as guardian of the weak and un-
sophisticated.”

Chet threw back his head and laughed.

“That’s the way he poses. That’s how he leads
every one to regard him as a shining model. Still
there’s one thing certain, Slick-—he won’t peach on
you to the faculty. It’s the only really decent thing I
ever found in that chap. He may get an idea that
he'll haul you over the coals himself, but you can de-
pend on it that he’ll carry no reports to old Gunn or
any of the others,”

“I wish you fellows would stop talking about Merri-
well,’ said Blacklock harshly. ‘Seems to me I can’t
ever come over here unless youlre croaking Merri-
well, Merriwell, Merriwell. I’m sick of the name!
Tell us who’s going to be here to-night, Silkley.”

“Do you know Foster—Phil Foster?”

“IT know him,” nodded Chet.
nonentity, isn’t he?”

“Well, he doesn’t cut much ice at anything in par-
ticular. Still, he has some money and plays the
game.”’

“That’s all right, then,”
are the others?”

There was a rap on the door, and Chester ha-
stened to open it.

“Here are the others,”
boys entered the room.
lington.”

You bet!’ cried Chet, as he shook hands wit Nat
Tompkins.

“T want to introduce my roommate,” said Nat
quickly. “He is the prodigy of Fardale, the hero of
the school, the mighty master of jiu-jitsu who cap-
tured your crazy medical student and kept the lunatic

put in Blacklock. ‘Who

“You know Tompkins, Ar-

from carving up another chap. Arlington, this i is oy }

Mixer.”
“Delighted! delighted! '” cried Chet, as he wrung

Mixer’s hand. “Why, we've all heard of you! You're
the real stuff, my boy! You're famous the country
over!”

Tip was blushing to the roots of his hair. He felt
a thrill of pleasure over such an introduction and such
a greeting.

“Oh, they made a lot of foolish talk about that,” he |
said, attempting an air of nonchalance.
fectly ridiculous.
you know.”

 

“He’s sort of a)

announced Vance, as two.

“Tt was per- —
I didn’t do anything vera eobl +

¥e'
™
a)
4
a
a
q

nm
a

:

“Tsn’t he the real modest little cuss!” laughed Tomp-

kins. “No Wonder. Why, it’s a fact that all of us
thought him a coward before that ory piece of busi-
ness. Oh, I was like the rest. I thought so, too.

Now I’m rather proud to have him for a roommate.”

“Modesty is all right,” observed Arlington; “but a
fellow who does a thing like that can’t afford to be too
modest. I want you to meet my chum,-Mixer. Here
he is.
is Mixer, the mighty maniac-catcher.”

. “How are you, eats nodded Blacklock, with,

Mixer, this is Rand Blacklock. Blacklock, this
    

   

 

| hands in his pockets, his dark eyes surveying Tip

from his curly head to the toes of his shoes.

Tip flushed again over this fellow’s manner, for in
it he detected the old expression of contempt that had
annoyed him from others before his remarkable per-
formance with the medical student. Evidently Black-
lock was not particularly impressed by his appearance.

Perhaps Tompkins realized this, for he hastened to
say:
 “Tip’s a corking little athlete, although he doesn’t
| lookit. He’s going in for athletics now. If you don’t
think he’s able to take care of himself, just let him
|} give you a bit of jiu-jitsu.”’

i. “That jiu-jitsu business is all rot,” said Blacklock.

) “Ts been demonstrated that a good clean American

- wrestler can defeat any Japanese. jiu-jitsu professional
in the business.”

“T don’t fancy your crazy medical student found it
all rot,” retorted Tip, with a touch of indignation.

“Who taught it to yow?” inquired Rand.

“Dick Merriwell.”’ |

“Bah! There it is again! More Merriwell! I can’t
seem to get away from that name. Don’t any one
mention it again to-night!”

“Where’s the other fellow?’ inquired Arlington,
as Blacklock turned and walked away. ‘Where's

fe Poster?’

| “He'll be here,” asserted Silkley.
| the game without him.”
, But before preparations could be made to begin
| the game, Foster put in an appearance. He seemed
| a bit surprised on observing Mixer.
| “Hello!” he exclaimed, lifting his eyebrows. “What
| are you doing here?”

| “Me?” inquired Tip, with an expression of sur-
| prise. “Why, I suppose I’m going to do the same
| thing you are. Anything remarkable about that?”

— “YT didn’t know you played poker for anything above
| a five-cent limit,” said Phil. “I don’t suppose we'll
| play that kind of a game to-night.”

§ “T should say not,” came from Blacklock. “We’re
} here to play a real‘game of poker. We'll have a decent
limit. Fifty cents ought to be about right.”
>, “Let’s all have a drink before we begin,” invited
Chester, as he passed around the glasses. “Here you
go, fellows! Here’s luck to the whole of us! May we
all win!)
_ Mixer observed that Blacklock did not take a drink.
“Get into the game

  

 
   
  
  
   
 

“You're reneging!” he cried.
with the rest of us!”

~ “You'll excuse me,” bowed Rand coldly,

_ “Excuse you? “Why ?”

“Because I never drink.”

_ Tip looked astonished and then gave a shout of
laughter.

_ “How long since you sisal the turf?” he inquired,
seeking to express himself in Janguage that would

   
   
   
  
   
   
 

 

 

 

 

answered Rand mildly.
chuckled ee:

— “Tt hasn’t been long,”
“Oh, he’s a regular greenhorn,”

  

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

“We can begin

 

II
ton. “Just go easy with him to-night. Have a little
sympathy for him.”

“But he called for a fifty-cent limit,” muttered
Mixer, in a puzzled way.

The evident perplexity of the blue-eyed lad caused
considerable amusement among the others, with the
exception of Blacklock, who seldom betrayed amuse-
ment over anything.

They gathered about the table, and Tip produced
a package of cigarettes.

“Moguls,” he. said. “Bought them as we came past
Dickey’s. I rather prefer Moguls, don’t you know.
Help yourselves, boys.”

With the exception of Rand, all took a cigarette.

“Don’t be bashful,” urged Mixer, pushing the box
toward Blacklock.

Blacklock pushed it away.

“TI don’t smoke,” he said.,

Tip fell back on his chair, gasping for breath.

“What do you do?” he finally inquired.

“T play poker the best I know how,”
Rand. “Give me three dollars’ worth of. chips, Ar-
lington. I suppose you’ll act as banker ?” '
_ Phil Foster improved an opportunity to lean toward
Blacklock, beside whom he sat, whispering in Ran-
dal’s ear as the chips were being counted out:

“Doesn’t that little towhead give you a cramp?
Any one would think him a real hot member! Why,
he never did anything in his life before he happened
to get mixed up with that lunatic! Now he fancies
himself the real cheese. Some one ought to take the
conceit out of him.” /

“Some one may!” muttered Blacklock.

answered

CHAPTER VII.
ACCUSED OF CHEATING.

Mixer won the first pot. :

“Everything goes his way,’ observed Blacklock.
“The mighty hero is strictly in it.”

“That fellow doesn’t like me,” thought Tip. ‘Well,
I don’t like him, either. That makes us even.”

After this Rand persisted in referring to Mixer
as the “mighty hero.” He bowed with an assumed
air of deference whenever he spoke the words, but
behind it all there was a scornful sarcasm and ridi-
culing contempt that Mixer could not fail to feel.

Tip sought to get back at him.

“Aren’t you afraid your wings will make you ap-
pear a little peculiar?” he inquired, “You know you
can’t help sprouting wings, you’re such a moral chap.”

“Some one present may be wearing wings or shovel-
ing coal while I’m still in my present condition,”

Rand grimly.

Foster repressed a laugh and gave Blacklock a nudge
under the table. |
“Bore it into him!” he whispered, a few minutes

later. “I have an idea that he’s just as big a coward

   

    

said) 7a
  

~

 
  
   

 

‘11s all out with the limit on the first bet,”’

TIP FOP

     
   
     
  
 
 
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
   
 
    
  
    
   
  
  
  
   
     
    
 

I2
now as he ever was. He’s trying to show off. I'd
like to see somebody show him up.”

“Wait!” murmured Rand.

Arlington saw symptoms of unpleasantness and did
his best to smooth things over and keep every one
in good humor. He was fearful the game might
break up before the.suckers were properly landed.

Tompkins had a bad streak of luck at the start, but
finally won a good-sized pot, which came near making
him even.

On the other hand, Mixer started out well, but luck
eventually turned against him, and whenever he held
a good hand he found himself up against some one
with a better one. As a result, he lost rapidly and
grew reckless. He took several drinks, which did not
improve matters at all, as the stuff befuddled his brain
and spoiled. his judgment.

“Keep at it, thou Mighty Hero!” urged Rand.
“You're a fellow of wonderful nerve, and you're bound
to win, you know!”

“Thank you, Angel!” retorted Tip. “Your kind ad-
vice is accepted for all it’s worth—and no more.”

As usual, Blacklock was winning, while Arlington
seemed to be slightly behind the game. No one at
the table, save Rand himself, had a suspicion that
Chester was manipulating the cards.

In a hazy way, Mixer finally grew suspicious of
Blacklock. He fell to watching the fellow, but it was
a long time before he discovered anything suspicious
in Rand’s playing.

Finally, on Mixer’s deal a jack-pot was opened.
With the exception of Arlington, every one stayed.

Blacklock drew two cards.

Mixer took one and filled a flush.

Foster started the betting by shoving a blue chip
into the pot.

Blacklock raised a blue chip. Silkley called. Tomp-
kins followed suit, and then came Mixer’s turn to do
something.

Mixer tossed three blue chips into the pot.

“T raise it,’’ he said, his voice shaking a little.

He was doing his level best to keep his hands from
trembling.

Foster. glared at Mixer with an expression of dis-
cust, and then flung down his cards. As he did so,
one of them turned face up on the table, and Tip
saw it.

Foster promptly turned the card over.
“T pass!” he growled.

“You shouldn’t try to steal a jack-pot by driving
laughed Tip.
“You know all about poker, don’t you?” sneered
Poster.

“You forget that he’s a Mighty Hero,” put in Black-
lock.

“Well, it’s up to you, Angel,”
“What are you going to do?”
“T’m going to raise you,” said Rand.
Silkley swore softly. ,

1??

said Mixer hotly.

 

WEEKLY.

_ “How many cards did you draw, Blacklock ?”’ he in-
quired.

“We've been betting,’ reminded Rand.
should have asked that question before.”

Vance turned to Mixer.

“You're the dealer,” he said.
did he take?”

“Two,” answered Tip.

“Thank you, Mighty Hero,” nodded Rand, giving
the blue-eyed chap a look that made Tip’s blood boil. _

“I’m up against it,’ declared Tompkins disgust-
edly. “It’s no use. I’ve got two elegant pairs, but
down they go.”

He dropped his hand.

“Now,” said Blacklock, “it’s up to you, Mighty
Hero.”

“Well, I raise you again,” flung back Mixer.

“It’s getting warm. It’s beginning to sizzle,”
breathed Arlington, leaning back on his chair and
ceasing to puff at his cigarette.

Blacklock returned the raise.

Once more Silkley swore. —

“Fight it out!’ he snarled, also dropping his cards.

Mixer’s hands shook more than ever as he inspected
his cards to make sure the flush was really there.
There was no mistake about it. Therefore he decided
on another raise.

“Tm dreadfully frightened!” said Blacklock, as is
promptly raiséd back.

“He must have had threes to go in on,” thought
Tip. “Is it possible that he’s got a pair with them?”

“Oh, don’t let your nerve fail you now!” sneered
Rand.

Thus taunted, Tip recklessly made another raise.

Blacklock retaliated in the same manner. 4

“T’ve got to call you,” confessed, Mixer. “My chips |
are gone, and I’m out of money. [ think I’ve got you
beaten. I havea flush. Here it is.’

He dropped the cards face upward on the table.

“A flush is pretty good, Mighty Hero,” said Black-
lock. .

oy tone so!” cried Tip, starting to pull in the
chips.

“Hold on!’ commanded his opponent sharply.
said a flush was, pretty good, but it isn’t good enough.

Take a look at these four ladies.”

He spread out his hand, displaying four queens.

Mixer half rose, leaning on the table, aus staring
at his opponent’s hand. Suddenly he uttered a hoarse
cry of rage.

“Cheating!” he palpitated.
lock! You couldn’t get four queens out of the pack!

At this nearly every boy started up, uttering ex-
clamations of consternation. |

“Be careful, Mixer—be careful!” warned Tomp-
kins.
accuse a fellow of cheating!”

“T do know what I’m doing!” flared the blue-eyed —
chap. “I say he couldn’t get four queens out of the
pack !” | Hy i

“You

“How many. cards
y.

99

“You cheated, Black-

"7

  

 

 

“T j 1

“You don’t know what you’re doing when you Be
    

 

 
  
  
  
 

_ whose face had now gone white as chalk.

“Why not?’ demanded Arlington.
“Because I saw Foster throw the queen of clubs into
the discards!’ shouted Tip.

 

CHAPTER VIII.
A TERRIBLE SCRAPE.

Among them all Rand Blacklock was the coolest.
He remained quietly in his chair, his eyes fastened on
his accuser.
little, upon which, without taking his eyes off Mixer,
Rand icily said:

“You're a liar!”

Phil Foster felt like hugging himself.

Mixer was so excited that he shook like a leaf.

“I’m not a liar!” he flung back. “TI saw the queen
of clubs when Foster threw his hand on the table!’

“We can settle that easy enough,” put in Arling-
ton. “It’s up to Foster.”

Every one, save Blacklock, turned toward Phil.
Rand continued to watch Tip Mixer.

“How about it, Foster?’ asked Tompkins,
you hold the queen of clubs in your hand?”

“T did not!” answered Foster promptly.

Rand Blacklock laughed. It was not a pleasant
laugh. His lips parted, exposing the tips of his white
teeth, giving him a decidedly pantherish look.

Mixer was staggered for a moment. Then he

“Did

wheeled furiously on Foster.

“You know you're not telling the truth!” he aes
“You know you threw down the queen of clubs!
Blacklock must have stolen it out of the discards!’

Rand rose to his feet and stepped round the table.
Before any one could prevent him, he struck Mixer a
blow with his open hand.

“Now,” he said, without lifting his voice in the
least, “we'll see how much nerve the Mighty Hero and
great master of jiu-jitsu possesses.”

The boys crowded between them. :

“Hold on!” said Arlington. “You can’t fight in
here! It would make a fearful racket, and we'd be

_ put out of the hotel.’’ :

Again Blacklock laughed in that mirthless manner.

“There won't be any fight,” he said. “That little

runt hasn’t Boog enough i in his body to stand up and

fight a man.’

Pll show you!” palpitated Mixer,
“Tl fight

“Tl show you!

you anywhere*you choose!”
“That’s a Re ORE: is it? Well, I'll accept the

His calmness led them to quiet down a

 

TIP TOP WEEKLY. 13

challenge.’ I was born in Alabama, although I’ve
spent the most of my life in Ohio. I’m a Southerner,
and I prefer to fight like a gentleman. Arlington will
represent me in making arrangements for this affair.”

“Hold, Tip!” breathed Tompkins, in Mixer’s ear.
“You’re in for it now! There’s no escape!”

“Who wants to escape?” hissed the little chap. “If
he’s going to be so formal about it, you can represent
me. I decline to remain in company with a card sharp!
I’m going to leave this room. He’s welcome to my
money, which he’s won crookedly. We'll have a set-
tlement later.”

Tip hurried out of the room, with Blacklock’s hate-
ful laughter sounding in his ears.

Tompkins rushed after his roommate.

“Don’t run away, Tip,” he urged.

“Who’s running away?”

“You are.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Well, it looks like it. You’ve brought this thing
on you, and you'll have to face it. If you don’t, the

story will get out, and you'll again become the laugh-

ing-stock of all Fardale.”

“Didn’t I select you to represent me?” demanded
Tip. “I’m going down to the office. I’ll wait there.
Go back and settle where we're to fight.”

“All right,” nodded Tompkins. “But for Heater? S
sake don’t leave the office! If you leave the hotel
now, every one will think you ran away.”

“You haven’t any cause to worry about my leaving
the office,” assured Tip, as he started down the stairs.

Tompkins retufned to the room where the boys had ~

been playing. Ten minutes later he descended to the

office and found Tip pretending to read a newspaper..

“By Jove, Mixer,” he whispered, “this is a serious
affair! , As that fellow says, he’s a Southerner, and he
insists on fighting like a gentleman. You cae
him, and he names pistols as the weapons.”

Tip gasped.

“Pistols?” he breathed, aghast.

“Yes.”

“But that—why—it’s preposterous!

~L cont believe he’s joking.
deadly earnest. He’s one of those fool fellows who
think it would be a great honor to participate in a
duel. He doesn’t stop to consider the circumstances.”’

“Pistols!” muttered Mixer. “Why, [ never fired a

pistol in all my life!” ; :
“Well, you'll have to fire one now—or apologize.”

He’s joking!”

X a

I am sure he’s in >

    
      
  

14 TLE steer

“But one of us might be killed. It would surely be
me, for I can’t shoot to hit anything.”

“I told you that you were in a bad scrape,’
Tompkins. “What are you going to do about it?
Will you apologize? If you do, your name is Mud.
The fellows who now regard you as a hero will be
perfectly disgusted with you. You'll lose every friend
you've made,”

“T can’t apologize—I can’t!’ groaned. Tip.
got to fight him. with any weapon he names!

killed, I’ve got to fight him!’

“That’s the talk! Perhaps neither of you will be
hit. Perhaps I can fix it so as soon as the first shots
are exchanged the affair will be stopped. We can
say then that honor is satisfied and that you’re both
vindicated.”

“It may be too late then!’’ groaned Tip.
dead !’’ :

“One thing I insisted on,” said Nat.

os _ the weapons, and I insisted that you should name the
time of meeting.”

“Oh, did you?” breathed Tip, with a sudden gleam
of hope.

“That’s what I did!”

“Well, let me see. I think we’d better put it off as
long as possible I wouldn’t mind putting it off for

_ ten or fifteen years.”

| “Oh, you can’t work that business,”
_ kins, shaking his head.
_ within a reasonable time.”
“A month?”

“No. He’s here in Fardale and will return to Fair-
port Sunday. You must meet him” before the time
- for his return.”

said

“Tye

If I’m

“T may be

declared Tomp-
“You've got to meet him

9

_ “That’s an awful short notice,” muttered the blue-
eyed boy. “I ought to have some time to practise
_ with a pistol.”

“He wanted to make it to-morrow morning at sun-
pase.”

_ “That won't do!”

“But the next day is Sunday.”

“JT might as well die on Sunday as any other day!
} We'll call it Sunday. Can’t we call it Sunday at sun-
set?” | ;

“Of course not. Haven't I told you bs he returns
to Fairport Sunday? We'll have to name an early
_ hour.”

“All right,” sighed the little aban “Go ahead and
name any hour you wish, but make it Sunday. ‘

i peeping reascended the stairs.

  

 

“He named

    
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
   
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
    
    
  
  
   
 
  
   
  
  
 
  
  
   
   

WEEKLY.

Left alone, Mixer slumped down in his chair, a
wretched and pitiful-appearing little figure. His chin
quivered, and his whole body seemed icy cold.

“I never thought the fellow would challenge me to
a duel,” he whispered to himself. “It’s bad business—
bad business! Why did I come here to-night? If I’d
kept away, this would not have happened. It’s an
awful mistake'on my part. If I’d taken Merriwell’s
advice, I’d been all right now. Oh, what a fool I
was!”

After a few moments he started up.

“T may have been mistaken,’ he murmured. ‘“Per-
haps I didn’t see the queen of clubs. I’ll go up and
acknowledge that it’s possible I was mistaken.”

Having risen.to his feet, he took one step toward the
stairs and then stopped short. ;

“No,” he decided, “I was not mistaken, and I know
it. I can’t fool myself in that way. I distinctly saw
the queen of clubs, and, if I go up and confess a pos-
sible mistake, it will be because I’m too big a coward
to back up my accusation of cheating. I’ve always
been called a coward until lately. I can’t stand it any
more! If the fellows were to sneer at me and ridicule
me as they once did, I’d go crazy. There’s no way
out of this scrape.”

Tompkins reappeared on the stairs and rejoined —

Mixer.
“Well,” he said, “it’s settled for Sunday morning
at sunrise, You'll meet him.on the shore of the cove
near the academy. We'll get out now. We'll go back
to the academy together.” ; ;
“Yes,” said Mixer, “we'll go back to the academy,

and I'll make my will!”

CHAPTER IX.
| -7IP’S LETTER.

Tompkins was in+bed and sleeping soundly. His
steady, regular breathing told ee that he was afar
in the land of Nod.

Tip sat limply on a chair, Sti blankly at the
hardwood floor.

The window had been curtained by a heavy bide ‘
On the knob of the

which shut in every ray of light.

door hung a cap, covering the keyhole. The crack be-

‘neath the door: was hidden by a rug, folded and pushed oy t

over it.

Academy was supposed to be in bed and sleeping.

For this reason the precautions mentioned had been —
taken to conceal the fact that a student’s lamp was _

  

It was long after taps, pa every boy at ‘Fardale "ae

ila aie PST ST este

 

 

.

 
   
   
 
      
    
    
 

 

 
   
 
 
   
   
  
   
 
  
 

    
 

 

  
  

expect me to fight.” |

TIP TOP

still burning in the room occupied by Tompkins and

Mixer.

Nat had tried to induce Tip to retire, but all his
urging was vain.

*“T can’t sleep,” declared the pale-faced little chap.
“T’ve got-to write some letters,”

“You may be caught,” reminded Tompkins. “If
an ee comes round, or the watchman sees the
light -
“Can’t we fix it up the way we did one night?”
pleaded Tip. “You know we kept a light burning
until after midnight, and no one got onto it.”

“You’re foolish, Tip!’ growled Nat. “You'd bet-
ter come to bed and get your rest. You'll need it
badly enough.”

Finally, discovering that Mixer was set in his de-
termination not to retire, Tompkins pinned the blanket
over the window and made sure no ray of light would
shine into the corridor through the keyhole or the
crack beneath the door. Then he turned in.

Tip sat beside the square table and falteringly ar-
ranged writing-paper, pens, and ink, preparatory to
writing the letters he contemplated.

Several times he picked up the pen and dipped it in
the ink. Once he wrote the words, “My dear Mother.”
Never in his life had he faced a task so simple, yet so
difficult, as the writing of that letter. He could not

 

- seem to begin it.

The minutes slipped on, and an hour passed with-
out another word being traced on that sheet of paper.

Tompkins slept peacefully and dreamleély.

Finally the blue-eyed boy gave a deep sigh and

brushed back the curls from his forehead. With some

surprise, he found his palm was damp, and this led

him to the discovery that beads of cold perspiration
_ were standing out on his forehead.

“T’m cold, and I’m sweating like this,” he whis-

_ pered wonderingly. “I’m. chilled through and
_ through. I don’t feel well. I wonder if I’m going to
be ill. I hope 1 am! I hope I am taken down with

_ pneumonia to-night! Then I won't have to fight that

duel. Ill be under the doctor’s care, and no one can

After a few moments of silence, something like a
ghastly smile crept over his face.

“No such luck,” he went on. “You can’t get out

of it that way, Mixer. You're in the hole, and next

Sunday morning you'll have to walk out like a man
and be shot. That fellow is a Southerner, and he’s

a just lunatic enough to do his best to hit me when he
fires, I never thought I’d come to this},

  

WEEKLY, Is

“Gracious! “I can’t keep still any longer. I’ve got
to move, even if I wake Tompkins. I hope he doesn’t
wake up. He’s beginning to suspect the truth already.
He’s beginning to suspect that I’m a coward after all.

“A coward? I’m no coward! Didn’t I do a heroic
thing! Didn’t all the newspapers call me a hero!
All the fellows who used to sneer at me have been glad
enough to be friendly since I tackled that maniac.
Dick Merriwell told me I was a hero. He told me
that never again could any one call me a coward.”

The tortured little chap fumblingly unlaced his
shoes and pulled them off. In his stocking feet he be-
gan to pace the bare floor.

“There’s stich a thing as luck,” he continued, still
whispering the words to himself. ‘Perhaps luck may
favor me. Ever if I don’t know how to-fire a pistol, I
may hit Blacklock, and he may miss me,

“He ought to be shot! He’s a card sharp, a cheat,
a low rascal! I caught him cheating—but I couldn’t
prove it! That was the bad part of it!

“Phil Foster lied! What did he have against me?
Why did he swear the queen of clubs was not in his
hand? I’ve never injured him.”

Tip stopped short in the middle of the floor, his
mouth open, an expression of surprise filling his eyes.
~ “T have it!” he murmured. ‘Foster is sore because
I accepted his challenge in the gym and gave him a
taste of jiu-jitsu. By George! I believe he’s the fel-
low who turned on the hot water when I was taking
that shower! I didn’t mean to hurt him. I just
wanted to show him and the other fellows what I
could do. It seemed to me that some of them still oe
doubted my ability to handle a strong man. I wanted
to show them.

“That’s the trouble,” he continued, after another
brief pause. “I wanted to show off, Never before

the last few days have I felt that I could show off — a
at anything. When the chance came, I was anxious-to

demonstrate my cleverness. Oh, I was a fool! Merri-
well was right. I’ve had a touch of the swelled head,
but it’s all gone now—it’s all gone now!”

The boy on the bed stirred slightly as if disturbed,
and Mixer hastily resumed his seat at the table, catch-
ing up a pen.

Tompkins did not awaken; and the pen finally fell
from Mixer’s fingers. ;

“Was Merriwell mistaken in me?’ he meditated.
“Is it possible I’m still a coward? If I am, I can’t let
the fellows know it. They all think me built of better
stuff. I’ve got to'see this thing through!”

His eyes fell on a photograph on the mantel. Once

  
   

TIP TOP

  
   
   
   
   
    
   
     
 

more rising quickly from his chair, he secured this
picture, gazing upon it long and earnestly.

It was the photograph of a sweet-faced, gray-haired
woman.

“Mother!” breathed the boy, pressing his. lips to
the picture. “You, were the only one who ever had’
‘sympathy for me at home. I must write that letter.
I will!”

With the picture on the table at his elbow, he settled
himself to perform the difficult task. The pen caught
at the first stroke and blotted the sheet. He tore it
up and began again.

“My Dear Motuer: Your last letter filled me with
great happiness. You were mistaken in thinking I
failed to write you about my thrilling experience ‘be-
cause I was too modest. I[ refrained from writing
concerning that affair because I knew it would cause
you needless worry and alarm. I didn’t suppose you
would see the newspaper accounts of it. I didn’t sup-
pose the newspapers would make so much of it. Really
and truly, it wasn’t such a wonderful thing to do. Of
course, it must seem rather wonderful that I should do

it, but I have a friend here, Dick Merriwell, who has
‘done scores of braver acts, and yet he is one of. the
most modest boys I ever met. He never boasts of
what he has done. In fact, he never seems to think he
has done anything unusual or worthy of praise. Wheri
any one attempts to praise and flatter him he has a
_ fine way of turning the talk into a different channel.
_ I[ think admiration and praise actually embarrass him.
“This splendid fellow, Merriwell, was my first real
friend at Fardale. I spent a long time in this school
_ before I made a friend, and when Merriwell picked
_ me up he did not do so because I had accomplished
_ anything unusual to attract his notice. On the con-
_ trary, he singled me out at a time when every one else
_ thought me a pitiful coward, just the same as I was’
_ regarded by every one at home save you. You, dear
-mother, were the only one who ever seemed :to under-
stand me a little bit and sympathize with me until I
met Dick. It was proof of his courage that he took
me up and called me his friend at a time when almost
_ every one here regarded me with the same contempt
TI had grown to believe I deserved. He introduced me
to his friends, and they are the most Beppe boys at
Fardale. ,
“T think my enemies were jealous of me after that.
That’s why they dragged me off to that old house and
sought to frighten me to death. Honestly they nearly
succeeded in doing so. As you have read in the
papers, one of them was stretched on a table like a
corpse and covered with a sheet. The others gave
mea knife and told me I must cut a finger or a thumb
from the corpse. Dead people have always terrified
me, and my heart rose into my throat, nearly choking
me. Then the maniac, who was Hidden in a closet,
sprang out, secured the knife, and grabbed the fellow

  

  

  

  

  

  

WEEKLY.

world could I win one word of praise or admiration

_ at all.

 

on the table. He was a medical student who had been ie
hazed at school and thus driven insane. When he *
seized the fellow on the table and announced that he
would dissect him, every one, including’ myself, was
horrified. With one stroke of the knife the lunatic
could have murdered the helpless chap in his hands.

“T don’t know how I came to do what I did at
that juncture. Dick Merriwell had been teaching me
a style of Japanese wrestling, which he called jiu-jitsu,
by which an expert who is not very strong may easily
handle a much larger and stronger man. Before I
knew what I was doing I stepped forward, suggesting
to the maniac that I would help him perform the dis-
section. I remember thinking that it would be neces-
sary to deceive him into believing I meant to render
assistance. I knew that was the best way to get close
to him, where [ could give him a taste of jiu-jitsu. I
don’t understand it now, but all of a sudden I was as
cool and self-possessed as the bravest person who
ever lived. I walked up to him, grasped his wrist, and = =——
secured a hold which rendered him helpless. Then I
called for the others to assist me. Instead of doing so,
they fled and left me; but Dick Merriwell and a band
of men who were searching for the lunatic came in
soon enough to aid in his capture.

“That’s the whole story, dear mother. Since then
the very boys who taunted me with cowardice have Y
been eager enough to accept me as a friend. They
think me a hero now, and I have been foolish enough
to fancy myself heroic. I’m afraid I grew conceited.
Dick Merriwell warned me against conceit. He’s the
most level-headed chap in all the world. Not only
that, but he is a boy of fine principles, who invariably
tries to do what is right and just.. Had I followed
his advice, I’d be better off to-night—far, far better
off !

“T wish you would tell my big Geaiher Ben, that he
can never know how foolishly happy I was to receive
his letter of praise. All my life I’ve regarded Ben as >
brave and manly, in direct opposition to myself. A
million times I’ve thought I’d give anything in the

te

oR

-

 

 
   

dees Sekt

 

SS ee:

     

sie alata

          
       
       
       
       
 

 

    
       
       
     
       
     
     
     
 

from him. He it was who tried to cure me of —
cowardice by frightening me and then showering me
with ridicule. I don’t suppose it was his fault if he
simply made me more cowardly ind caused me hours ea
of wretched self-contempt and nuisery. |
“Now, mother dear, I’ve written altogether too

much about this affair. I didn’t mean to mention it
I’ve been thinking a great deal about you and
the old home. I’m rather gloomy and downcast to-—
night, for I keep thinking it possible I may never see
you again. You know a person can’t tell what may
happen. I don’t want to frighten you, mother, but
if anything should happen to me, i hope you'll always .
remember me as loving you dearly and cherishing your
image in my heart to the last. I see you now as you.
stood at the gate, waving good-by and smiling bravely, |
the morning Ben drove me over to the station—the —
morning I started for Fardale. I can see, the old |

      
       
     
     
    
     
    
     
       
       
       
      
    
        
     
    
      
 

 

6 a

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oe a
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Pe ae ee eee eee teeta —
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PRE CS pe MIS AO Aeicg  AERE BIN EEE ce

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See SE

_ hook near the head of the bed.
- o'clock! Now you quit! Let up right where you are

be! Nat.

home, with the vine-covered arbor and ‘the flower-
garden I made for you. Oh, that flower-garden! How
I enjoyed working in it until the day I unearthed*a big
angleworm and was so startled I gave a yell that
brought Ben to the spot. Then he held me and put

the angleworm on my neck. After that I was afraid

to work in the garden.

“Oh, mother, I’m glad you think I’m brave, but I
must tell the truth—I’m still a miserable coward. I
think it was an accident that I forgot myself for the
time being and did the one thing which has caused so
many to believe me a hero.

“T send you all my love.
to see you now, for I may never—never

I would give the world

9

 

The pen dropped from Mixer’s fingers, and his
cheeks were damp with tears.

CHAPTER X.
SEEKING DICK’S ADVICE.

. Tompkins awoke with a start and sat up in bed.
“Here! here!’ he exclaimed softly. “What the

dickens are you doing now, Tip? Great Scott! are

you still ciate up?”

“Ye-yes,” falteringly answered Mixer, hastily turn-
ing his face from the light i in order to conceal the fact
that he was crying.

“Great smoke! It must be‘near morning.”

“I don’t think it’s very late,”” murmured Tip.
been writing.”

_“Where’s my watch?’ Tompkins found it on the
“Why, it’s past two

“T’ve

1?

and come to bed!
_ “Pretty quick. Let me finish.”
“Not a bit of it! You can finish that old letter to-

_ morrow. You've got lots of time.”

“Time?” cried Tip brokenly. ‘ “A fellow who’s

liable to be shot to death within thirty hours hasn’t
much time!”

Then he rose to his feet and suddenly faced his
~ roommate. :

“See here, Tompkins,’’ he said huskily, “why should

I go out and let another fellow take me for a target?”

“Because you’ve got to prove your nerve,” answered

“Nerve? I haven’t got any nerve! I'm going

away! I’m going to pack up now, and I'll leave Far-
dale in the morning!”

 

_ “The dickens you will!” _
_ “That’s just what I’m going to do!” pe Mixer

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

    
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
   
 
 
  
  
 
  
   
  
   
    
 
 
 
 

“And every one at the school will believe you a
cur forever after. Your enemies will rejoice and have
a fine time.”

“Let them! I sha’n’t be here. Who cares?’

“T care. I’ve taken you as a roommate. I’m not
going to have sport made of.me. I’m not going to

have fellows come around and ask where my heroic

chum is. If you haven’t sand enough to be a man for
your own sake, think of others.”

“T’ve been thinking of my mother.”

“Oh, rot! That’s the old story. Every sentimental
fellow pretends he thinks first of his mother.”

“Have you a mother, Nat?”

“Sure thing. She’s. all right, too. She used to
wallop me properly when I got devilish and needed
trimming. She spanked a whole lot of sense into me,
Mixer. Evidently your mother never spanked much
sense into you.”

“She never struck me in the world.”

“You've been: hartdled like a baby all your life.
You can’t play the baby with me! You accused Rand
Bkacklock of being a cheat, but you couldn’t prove it.”

“Because Foster lied!’ palpitated the blue-eyed boy.

‘Perhaps that’s true, but it put you in a hole, and
now you've got to stand up and be a man.”

“Stand up and be shot, you mean!”

“This fellow, Blacklock, isn’t such a fool as you:
I don’t believe he'll try to hit you .

take him for.
if he fires at you. He’s got sense enough in his head
to think ofthe consequences in case he should kill
you. He’s a bluffer, Tip, and you’ve got to call his bluff.
He’s trying to scare you into showing the white feather.
If you put on a bold front, the chances are ten to one
that Blacklock will never stand up at twenty paces and
let you fire at him. He expects you to squeal before
the time comes for you to meet him. He’s counting
on your record as a coward. You'll fool him, Mixer.

I don’t suppose I’ll ever take much stock in your hero-

ism after this, but Pm going to stand behind you and
make you call this fellow’s bluff. You'll thank me
when it’s all over, for you'll preserve your reputation
for courage.”

“Do you really think so?” asked Tip, with a touch
of hope. “Do you really believe Blacklock will take
water ?”

“That’s exactly what I believe he’ll do if you put on
a bold front and carry this thing through just as if
you meant to shoot him through the heart in that duel.

You haven’t told any one else that you can’t use a Sn
Blacklock doesn’t know but you're the finest —

pistol.
shot in the world.

17 «

In the morning [’ll take pains to eS

  

      
   
     
       
          
     

 
 

ye

      
    
  
   
   
   
   
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
   
   
   
  
    
   
  
  
     
  
      
 

Ss

Tompkins.

_ » I won’t spoil the surprise you have in store for them.”

‘38

 

spread the report that the one thing you can do best
is to shoot. I’ll’see to it that fellows who may com-
municate with Arlington are told all about your won-
derful exploits in shooting. I'll make them believe
you're fierce to face Blacklock and kill him. You’ve
been insulted. Blacklock struck you. All the pride
in your-ndture is aroused, and you're ready to kill him
if you have to hang for it.

“Now you come to bed, or I'll get up and put you
to bed myself !’’
“All right,”’

to bed.”
Although he undressed and crept into bed, the little
chap spent the remainder of the night in wakefulness.
While he courted sleep wild fancies and nerve-racking
fears continued to torture him.
In the morning Tompkins pulled Mixer out of bed
and forced him to dress for early mess. Tip obeyed

muttered Tip resignedly, “I'll come

in a mechanical manner and did his best to eat some.

breakfast, although it seemed that*every swallow would
choke him. He fancied all the boys were watching
him, even though he realized that few of them knew
anything about the impending duel. When some of
them tried to joke with him he answered as best he
could. :

“You're not looking well, Mix, old man,
“Are you ily

“Oh, no,” Tip hastily answered ; ni m feeling first-
rate—first-rate.”’

“Then your appearance belies you, for I should say
you had been to a funeral or were going to attend
one.” |
. “A funeral?” choked Tip.
~ one!”

“Yes,” called Tompkins, from the next table. “Tip
expects to oe the funeral of one a his enemies
very soon.’ |

“Hey?” called another aus “T hope he isn’t going
to slaughter any one. I! hope he*doesn’t contemplate
taking to the war-path.” ;

“That’s precisely what he contemplates,”

” said one.

“Well, I may attend

grinned

“Tell us about it! tell us ‘boat it!” urged several
curiously.

“Oh, you'll find out all about it later,” nodded Nat.
“You were surprised when Mix,captured that lunatic,
‘but you'll be more surprised over his next exploit.”

The little fellow cast an imploring look toward
, Tom ‘kins, who retorted with a chuckle.

“That's all right, Tippy. 1 won’t give you away.

 

TIP: TOP WEEKLY.

-Merriwell!”

  

After breakfast Mixer improved the first oppor-
tunity to steal away from his would-be companions.

As he hurried up-stairs toward his room he encoun-
tered Brad Buckhart. . ee]
“Oh, good morning,” said Tip. “Is Dick in his |

room ?”’ ‘
“TI opine he is, little pard,” nodded the Texan. > ae
left him there.”
Two minutes later Mixer rapped on Dick’s door and
entered at Merriwell’s invitation.
“Hello!” greeted Diek cheerily.

Tip? Why, you’re looking blue as a whetstone!

there anything the matter?”
“T should say so!” answered the wretched boy, as _
he dropped on a chair. “Everything is the matter!” “Be
Dick surveyed him inquiringly. Bs |
“Tf there’s any way I can help you——” he began. |
“Oh, I wish you could, but I don’t believe you can.
In fact, I know you can’t. I’m in an awful scrape, | |
Dick—an awful scrape!” a
“Perhaps I can advise you, at least. What’s the |
matter?” Ez:
“You called me a hero. You said no one could oe as
‘again call me a coward. You’re mistaken, Dick! a

Before I was called a hero I was acoward. NowI’m | |

not only a coward, but I’m a liar and a hypocrite!” P
“That’s pretty strong.. How do you make it out?” |
“Wait till I tell you. I lied to you. I played the |

‘hypocrite with you. If I’d taken your advice, all would |

have been well. I’m more than a coward, a liar, and

I’m a fool! You talked to me and gave

me good advice. In return, I made you some prom-~
ises, which I promptly broke. I promised you I would

not smoke and do other things which I know are not
right. I don’t like to be ridiculed, and when Tomp-_
kins laughed at me and made fun of me because I de-

clined to smoke, I,gave in and smoked. You see I |
lied to you. Last night I played poker with a patty) |”
of fellows, and I not only smoked, but I drank. Oh, —

youll despise me, I know you will! You cart Sa *

it! I deserve it!” ag
Instead of showing" contempt for Tip because of :
this confession, Dick walked over to him and plated Ps

a friendly hand on his shoulder. —

. “Old fellow,” he said kindly, “don’t you remember _
what I told you about the weaknesses of heroes Pi
You're human, too, my boy. You have your weak- —
nesses.” | tae ae

“That’s not the matter. I’m all weaknesses! I have
no strength at all! I’m utterly lacking in character,

 

“How’s it going,
Is"

 

a hypocrite.

 

 
       
     
       
     
     
     
     
     
       
  
 
 

  
 

   
ays & Ge er
/ Bi. a

“Tell me what happened that placed you in such a
mood.”

Hurriedly, yet vividly, Mixer told the story of the
poker-game and its dramatic ending.

Dick listened without interruption.

“Now you see what my folly has brought me to,”

+

 

Stare 2m

 

“concluded the little chap.

without a touch of sarcasm.

“Had I taken your advice,
I’d not be in this scrape.”

“That’s quite true,” nodded Dick; “but it’s too late
to cry over a mistake. The best thing we can do after
making a mistake is to resolve that we'll be careful
in the future.”

“But there may be no future for me.”

“Oh, I don’t believe it’s as bad as that.”

“I’m afraid it is. The more I think about it, the
more it seems that Blacklock is in earnest. He’s one

’ of those reckless fellows, full of pride, who will see

this thing through now, no matter what the result
may be. I can’t face him, Merriwell! I tell you ’'m
just as big a coward as I ever was!”
“And you’re just as great a hero,” asserted Dick,
“The trouble is that
your imagination is preying on you. If you were
compelled to face Blacklock suddenly under the spur
of a great responsibility, you would do it just the
same as you unhesitatingly attacked that lunatic.”
“Oh, do you think so?” breathed Tip gratefully.
“T am sure of it. You were not afraid of Blacklock
when you exposed him as a cheat.”
“Afraid of him? No! I was afraid of nothing

then!”

   

| well!
and more wrought up and nervous.
‘the nerve to hold up my end.
away in order to escape.”

— “T wouldn’t do that.

~of this scrape.

“Let me consider a moment. It strikes me that

Blacklock has made an estimate of you and believes
he cart bluff you.” |

“Exactly what Tompkins says.”
“In that case he is a coward himself, Tip, for no one

of real courage would attempt to frighten another
Without doubt he’ll ©

person in such a manner as this.
carry this thing through up to the last minute. If you
can hold up your own, he may be the one to show

‘the white feather.”

_“That’s Tompkins’ idea. But it’s no use, Merri
Every hour, every minute, I’m growing more
I’ll never have
I’m afraid T’ll run

There may be some way out

Perhaps I can discover a way to check

Rand Blacklock. I feel it my duty in a way. Just
ait, Mixer, and keep up as good a front as Aid can.
| ee to me you a helping: Be

LES aot VY Eee doy

1)

CHAPTER XI.
MERRIWELL’S METHOD.

The weather being somewhat threaténing Saturday,
and Fardale having-no scheduled game of any sort to
play, a large number of the boys spent much of their
time in the gymnasium.

It was quite late in the forenoon when Merriwell
appeared and changed his uniform for a gymnasium
suit. |

“Hey, Dick!” squealed Obediah Tubbs, as soon as
Merriwell came out of the dressing-room. ‘Come
here! We've been havin’ an argument.”

“Come not hither,’ commanded Ted Smart.
“Avaunt, villain!”

Dick saw that the group of boys about Ted and
Obey were laughing, and he knew well enough that
Ted had been chaffing Tubbs. e

“What’s the matter, Obediah?’” “he inquired, as he
joined the gathering. .

“By Jim! this little runt called me a jackass just
now!”

“Did he?” cried Dick. “Don’t stand it!”

“Well, what shall I do?” asked the fat bov.

“Make him prove it,” advised Merriwell.

“How can he prove it?” spluttered Obey.

“Why, that shouldn’t be so very difficult,” laughed
Dick, and the merriment of the bunch was redoubled,
not a little to the fat boy’s perplexity. :

“Hear ’em faugh ! See ’em laugh!’’ he squealed.
“T’ll bet they don’t know what they’re laughin’ at!”’

“That’s right,” agreed Smart, with great sober-
ness. “They’re a lot of chumps, Obey! You're the;
only fellow in the bunch with any real jackass sense.”’

“Jackass sense?” shouted Tubbs, flourishing his
arms in exasperation.

“Excuse me! I meant to say horse sense.”

“Well, by thutter, that’s different!”

“You're very wise, Obediah,” declared the little
chap, shaking his head solemnly. . “It’s easy enough
for you to prove it. I have a conundrum for, you.
You can answer it. Which is the most benefit to the
earth, the sun, or the moon?”

“Haw!” exploded Obey. “The sun, of course.”

“Oh, Tubsy, Tubsy!” moaned Ted. “How can you:

expose stich ignorance when I’ve commented on your

wisdom. The moon is the most benefit to the earth.”
“I’d like to know how you make that out?’ indig-
nantly demanded the fat Tad.
“Why, it’s easy—it’s easy. The sun only comes:
out in the daytime, but the moon comes out in the
night, when we need it.” ;

 

 

 
    
  
   
  
 
 
    
  
 
    
     
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
    
   
   
    
    
 
    
    
   
 

®

   

>

  

|

*tell.me how it was discovered, Bradley :

» tered the Cockney.

20 ee eae

When Obediah opened his mouth to remonstrate,
all the boys joined in asserting that Smart was right,
which added to» the exasperation of Tubbs.

“As long as you’re so brilliant, Ted,” laughed Dick,
“TI have a question to ask you.”

“Fire away,” invited Smart.

“Can a fellow De in two places at the same time?”

“T don’t see

“Why, it’s the simplest thing in the world,”
Merriwell. ‘I spent a day in Jersey City once, and I
was homesick all the time.”

Smart threw up his hands and fell
arms of Billy Bradley.

The Cockney lad gazed around him in wonderment,
while the rest of the boys shouted with, laughter.

how.’
asserted

limply into the

“’Old hon! ‘old. hon!” he expostulated, glaring
at Dick. ‘“’Ow can that be? ’Ow could you be sick

at ‘ome while € you were in Jersey City?”

“T didn’t say I was sick at home. I said I was home-
sick,”’

“Hi'd like to know what the blooming difference
is!’ Hi’d like to know what heverybody’s laughin’
hat!” : \

“So would I, Billy,” said Ted, bracing up. _“Let’s
you and I go off into the corner and meditate on this
funny joke that amuses them so.” |

“Hi won’t strain me brain hover hit,” growled the
English boy. “Hit makes me provoked, don’t you
know. When a fellow springs hanything like that as
a blooming joke, Hi want to ’it him hover the ’ead
with a bar of hiron.”

99

said Smart swiftly,

999

“Speaking of iron, “can you

“Can Hi tell you ’ow hiron was discovered?”
’ “That’s the question.”

“Hi’ve never thought a great deal habout hit.
was hit discovered ?”

_ “Why, they smelt it,’ answered Ted.

Again Billy looked blank and stared around help-
lessly at the laughing boys.

“Git haway!’ he rasped. “Hiron don’t have no
hodor! Unless a thing ’as a hodor ’ow can you
smell it?”

“They smelt it with the aid of a smelter,” ex-
plained Ted. “Get it through your nut, Sir William.
_ It’s awfully funny when you see the point. You can
go round springing that conundrum on all your
friends.”

“They smelt hit with the haid of a smelter,” mut-
“Ow, dear! ow dear! Hi begin

"Ow

     

 

 

WEEKLY.
to see! Ha! ha! ha! By Jove! that’s a good one,
don’t you know!”

He gave Smart a terrible slap on his shoulder, threw
back his head, shut his eyes, and literally roared with
laughter.

“He sees it,” nodded the little chap.
every one all about it.”

Earl Gardner entered the gym and approached the
group. Instantly on perceiving the newcomer, Brad-
ley made a spring for him, caught him by the collar,
and. cried:

“Hi’ve got a blooming funny one, don’t you know!
Hit’s hawfully clever, by Jove! ’Ow did they first dis-
cover hiron?”’

“Tell us the answer,

“Why, hit was heasy,”

“He'll tell

” invited Gardner.

laughed Bradley. “Hall

they ’ad to do was to go around smelling for hit until

Isn’t that a ’owling, funny one?”
nodded Earl, who knew Billy’s
‘Sits

they found hit.

“It certainly is,”
faculty of muddling the answer to*a conundrum.
funny, old man, but I’m too dull to see the point.”

“Think hit hover,” advised the Cockney. “While
you're thinking about hit Hi’ll give you hanother.
Can Amegotis live in two places hat the same time : or

“Well, not very long, I fancy.”

ings where you make a hawful mistake, hold
boy. One time I lived a ’ole day in Jersey City and
hall that day I stayed at ’ome and had a doctor, Hi
was so blooming hill.”

“That certainly is funnier than the other,” con-
fessed Gardner. “You ought to join RCeeteae
Minstrels, William.”

“Well, why don’t you laugh, you blooming chump?”
snarled Bradley. “Hi tell you two funny ones to-
gether, and you never crack a bit hof a smile!”

“Pardon me,” éntreated Earl; “I was thinking ofa
conundrum myself. . It’s always been a puzzle to
me. Willie, do you believe Lot’s wife turned to salt
when she looked back?”

“Hi've always ’ad me doubts habout hit,”
the English youth.
prove hit.”

declared

“T’ve seen something just as remarkable,” asserted
Earl, solemnly. “Why, only the other day I was in
town with Smart, and a pretty girl crossed the street.
Immediately he turned to rubber.”

While the others were laughing over this, Bradley . a 3

soberly scratched his head.
“Hi can’t believe hit,” he finally asserted.

you know. ,He couldn’t turn back again, could he?”

 

“Hive never seen hanything to

     

 

sate Ba acetal
Pe “

   

{ i
“OW tae
could he turn to rubber? He’s not rubber now, don’t

   

 

 

 

   
we we

 

 

 

 

 

    
  

 

“That’s another one for you to meditate on,” smiled
Dick, as he turned away.

Near at hand was a punching-bag suspended from
a circular disk; and Merriwell began to work gently
at this.

Buckhart sauntered up. |

“Say, pard, one of your particular friends is here,
I observe.”

“Who ?”

“Chet Arlington.
that Blacklock gafoot.

He’s just come in, along with
They’re coming this way.”

“T’ve been looking for Arlington this morning, °

“Brad,” said Dick hurriedly, in a low tone. “I knew
Blacklock was with him. You know I seldom pick
up trouble with any one, but there are reasons why
I’m going to force a quarrel on Rand Blacklock.”

Instantly the Texan’s face was transformed by a
look of satisfaction.

“Go ahead, partner!” he muttered.
certain have good reasons.”

Chester Arlington displayed a remarkable amount
of cheek in visiting Fardale after being expelled from
the school. He sauntered into the gymnasium as if

“I know you

he hada perfect right there, chatting easily with Black-

lock and nodding with perfect sang-froid to the lads.

“Hello, everybody!” he greeted. “Thought I’d
drop around and see the old crowd. Can’t get over
my feeling of affection for Fardale and the gang
here.”

Blacklock paused, with his hands in his pockets, and
critically surveyed Merriwell, who deliberately con-
tinued to punch the bag.

The expression on Rand’s face was one of mingled
amusement and criticism.

“That’s a fine punching-bag,” he observed. “Any
one who knows how to thump it ought to get plenty
of satisfaction out of it.” 7

“There’s poor satisfaction in punching a bag when
there are heads that need punching,” observed Dick,

- without stopping his work.

Blacklock stiffened a bit.
“Some fellows had better stick to bag-punching,”
he remarked. “Even if they’re rather poor at it,

they'll do a lot better than they will if they try to

punch heads.”

The passing of these remarks was enough to elec-
trify the boys in the vicinity and give them. a hint
that something unusual was in the air. They gathered
about, expecting an immediate retort from Merriwell.

Instead of replying to Blacklock’s sneer, Dick let

\
\

   

TIP TOP WEEKLY. 21

himself out on the punching-bag, using both fists with
a rotary movement that literally caused the bag to.
hum against the disk.

“It doesn’t strike me that he’s so very slow at that
business,’ remarked Earl Gardner.

“Ha! ha!” laughed Blacklock unmusically. “That’s
simple. Any one can do that. It’s a little bit showy.
I presume that’s why he’s doing it.”

Buckhart’s eyes were flashing, but he kept his teeth
together and said nothing, having decided to lec Mer-
riwell take his own course.

Suddenly Dick stopped and turned toward Smart.

“You’ve been asking questions,” he said smilingly.
“Now I'll ask you one. Do you ever gamble?” :

“Well,” drawled the little chap, “I never have, but
I’m thinking of getting married.”

“What, you?” put in Obediah Tubbs, with pre-
tended astonishment. “How can you get married?”

Blacklock attempted to be smart.

“That’s easy enough for anybody,” he declared.
“All a person has to do is to find a bigger fool than
himself.”

“It might be easy for some people,” said Dick;
“but I don’t see how you could do that.” ;

There was a hush—a pause—absolute silence. The
silence was broken by a smothered oath from Black-
lock, who took one quick step toward Merriwell, his
fist lifted. *

Instantly several boys sprang between then; while
Arlington grasped his companion’s arm.

“None of that here!’ exclaimed Earl Gardner.

Blacklock’s face was like a thunder-cloud. He
glared at Merriwell, hatred in his eyes.

“If not here, somewhere else!” he breathed
hoarsely. “He’s insulted me, and he’ll have to fight -
me!”

“Oh, I’m so frightened!” half sobbed Ted Smart.
“T don’t believe Dick will dare to fight!”

“Do you hear, Merriwell?” demanded Rand furi-
ously. “You've insulted me, and I challenge you to
fight !”

“Oh, very well,’ nodded Dick, as cool as ice, his
lips firm, but his eyes smiling. “If you feel that se
about it, I’ll have to give you satisfaction.”

“You're crazy, Rand!’ whispered Arlington, in his
friend’s ear. ‘‘Merriwell is a fighter. You don’t
know what you’re going up against.”

“No man can insult me without I demand satisfac-

tion!” ‘retorted the infuriated boy.

“You shall have all the satisfaction you want,” as-
sured Merriwell. “I believe you're something of a

   

  
  
 

 

22 TIP TOP WEEKLY.

Taking this into consideration, I think we’d
My friend,

duelist.
better let our seconds arrange this affair.
Buckhart, will represent me.”
“A duel?” questioned Earl Gardner excitedly.
“What sort of a duel?”
“A duel to the death!” said Dick.

 

CHAPTER XII.
SETTLING THE PRELIMINARIES.

While Merriwell dressed to leave the gym Buckhart
and Gardner conferred together in Earl’s room. The
Texan had notified Chester where to find him, and
he was waiting when Arlington knocked at the door.
Gardner was there also. The other boys who had
been present in the gymnasium eagerly awaited the
result of the conference.

The Texan bowed with unsuspected grace and
politeness as Arlington entered.

“It gives me a whole lot of pleasure to meet up
with you under such circumstances, Mr. Arlington,”

he observed.

“T presume it does,” retorted Chet. ‘You have an

idea that your principal will come out of this affair

the victor,”

“It’s quite true,” smiled Buckhart, “that I have the

utmost confidence in Mr. Merriwell.”

“But you understand that this is a challenge to a
duel.” :

~“T opine I understand it.”

“It’s not a challenge to a common fist fight. My
friend is no low-blooded bruiser.’’

“Tf you don’t mind, [ll certain refrain from ex-

_ pressing my opinion of your friend, Mr. Arlington.

convenient, and the weapons deadly,

Let’s get down to business.”

“T’m here for business,” said Ghdeter,

“Being the challenged party, Mr. Merriwell sure
has the right to name time, place, and weapons.”

_ Arlington attempted to assume some of the cold

politeness exhibited by the Texan.

“As long as the time is not too distant, the place
we shall be sat-

- isfied, sir,” he bowed.

“T assure you,” retorted Brad, “that it is our in-

tention to give you full measure of satisfaction. We'll
not postpone the time, we'll not make the place in-
convenient, and the weapons shall be a heap deadly.
If your principal has the courage to see this, thing
through to a finish, I allow there’s no question but he
or Richard Merriwell certain is destined to meet a
grand and sudden finish.”

“The time?” demanded Chet.

“Three o'clock this afternoon,”
hart.

“You might make it earlier.”
' “Then call it two o’clock.”

“That’s better.”

“We're determined to please you up to SR limit,
Mr. Arlington.”

“The place?” rasped Chet, unable to suppress the
irritation caused by Brad’s suavity.

“You know the old stone quarry, I reckon?”

ene

“That’s the place. It’s convenient, and yet it’s far
enough away from dwellings to make interruption
mighty unlikely.”

“That’s all right.: The weapons?”

“We will provide the weapons.
there when you arrive.”’

“But you must name them now.”

“On this point I have to demur. I’ve assured you
that they'll be deadly enough to satisfy complete the

suggested Buck-

We'll have them

bloodthirsty disposition of your principal.”

“But I insist on knowing what weapons will be
used. Unless we know we shall refuse to come.”

“If you choose to refuse, you're at liberty to do so,”
said Buckhart grimly. “In case your principal de-
clines to meet Mr. Merriwell, I should advise him to
make haste to hike out of Fardale, for he’s liable to
be escorted out of the town.”

“Escorted ?””’

“Precisely. He won’t find it necessary to walk any
whatever. He'll be given a ride—on a rail.”

Arlington’s anger flared forth.

“This is an outrage!” he snarled.

“T wouldn’t call it that if I were in your place,”
remonstrated the grim Texan. “You’re not a per-
son to talk a Jot about outrageous conduct. Your
record won’t stand the strain much.”

“Do you positively refuse to name the weapons
now ?”’

At the same time, I give you the as-

9?

“Positively.
surance as a gentleman

“As what?” sneered Chet,

 

; \ ;
“As a gentleman,” continued Brad, with a sudden

dangerous flash in his eyes; “I assure you that there
will be perfect fairness in this matter. I further assure
you that your principal shall have the choice of
weapons.
and choose.”

“T don’t believe he'll stand tor this.”

 

He will be ee the pods to inspect them

Sagas.

 

 

 
 

 

ibaa SI ie . : :
ae = . *
es 2

 
  
 

 

   
   
  
  
    
  
 

of town on a rail if I kick at such terms.

have anything happen to you!”

Poe Pe

“Oh, very well,” nodded Buckhart. “If he won’t
stand for it, I reckon he knows what he can do. He’ll
have an opportunity to take the afternoon train at the
station in the village.”

“But he can’t leave to-day.. He has business here
to-morrow.”

“He'll have to postpone his business, and I don’t
judge it will he healthy for him to come back here and
look after it.”

Still protesting that it was outrageous, Chester asked
permission to confer with Blacklock. This was readily
given, and he hurried away.

Rand Blacklock was waiting in the room of Vance
Silkley.

“Have you settled it?’ he demanded, as Chester
entered.

eNOS

“Why not P”
~ Arlington made a hurried explanation.

“There’s some trick in this, Rand,” he declared. “I
wouldn’t agree to it until I consulted with you.”

“T’m to have the choice of weapons, am I?” mut-
tered Blacklock, meditatively. “This fellow says it’s
not to be a fist fight. Says the weapons will be deadly
enough to suit me. They even threaten to ride me out
Go back,
Arlington, and tell him that, as we are dealing with
self-professed gentlemen, I accept the terms.”

As Dick Merriwell left the gymnasium he found Tip
Mixer waiting for him. \

“What’s this I hear?” panted Mixer, seizing Dick’s
arm. “They tell me you’ve challenged Blacklock!” .

“Oh, no,” smiled Dick; “he challenged me. I looked
out for that, myeboy, and I brought it about much
easier than I anticipated.” j

“But you're going to fight him with deadly
weapons!”

“One of them will be deadly, at least.”

“It isn’t right! It’s all wrong!” faltered the dis-
tressed little chap. “TI can’t stand for it—I won’t!”

“Why not?” asked Dick, lifting his eyebrows.

' “Because you're doing this for me. Because you’re

putting your life in peril in order to save me. What
if you should be killed? I’d never forgive myself! I
tell you I won’t have it, Merriwell! I’m going to
stop it!”

“How are you going to stop it?”
“Tl go to Blacklock and apologize.”

“And have every one ridicule you as a coward.”

“T don’t care! I’d rather be called a coward than

 

  

WEEKLY. 23

“That wouldn’t stop this affair, Mixer, even if you
went to that fellow and apologized now. It will be
necessary to see this thing through to a finish.”

“Then I'll go to him and explain.”

“How can you explain?”

“Tl tell him I begged you to do something. for me.”

“But you didn’t. I suggested that I might do some-
thing for you.”

“Well, [ll tell him that. I'll tell him you brought
this thing about in order to stop the other affair.”

“And then what ?”

“And then I’ll meet him and let him shoot me!’’ pal-
pitated Tip. “Yes, I will! Perhaps you think I won't,
but I know I will!’

Dick laughed outright and threw his arm across the
little chap’s shoulders, giving him a sudden hug.

“You've satisfied me on one point, Mixer,’ he de-
clared. “You're not really a coward. In the other
instance you risk your own life to protect another boy.
Now you're ready to risk your life to keep me from
facing danger. I believe you’d do it, too.”

“T would! I will!” 3

“You can’t. You mtist see there is absolutely no
way to terminate this business unless both of us take
water. If you should tell Blacklock that I had inter-
fered on your account, he’d be doubly infuriated to-
ward me. I’d have to meet him just the same. He
wouldn’t let me off. Tip, do you remember I told
you that I thought Blacklock a bluffer? I still think
so. I’m counting on that in this case. I’m confident —
that he’ll never have the nerve to see this /business
through with me.” |

9

“But if he does have the nerve

 

“One of us will be scattered in fragments all over
the old stone quarry,” declared Merriwell.

 

CHAPTER XIII
THE STRANGEST DUEL EVER FOUGHT.

The afternoon was cloudy and grim. ’
Shortly after one o’clock the boys from Fardale
Academy began sauntering away, in pairs and groups

of three, as if starting out for a careless stroll. As
soon as they were far enough from the academy to es~ — ja

cape observation, these lads turned their faces toward
the old stone quarry and quickened their footsteps.
Although the impending duel was the talk of the .
‘school, not a whisper concerning it had reached the
faculty or any one who might interfere.
Twenty minutes before two Brad Buckhart, Barron

    
24 ! TIP TOP

Black, and Hal Darrell came down the road leading
into the depths. of. the quarry. .

They found nearly thirty boys already assembled
there.

The trio paid no attention to the other lads, but di-
rected their footsteps toward a small building at the
far end of the quarry. When two or three chaps at-
tempted to follow them, Darrell turned and ordered
them back.

“Stay where you are,”
private business. We're going
weapons.”

The watching lads saw Buckhart fit a key to the
Jock on the door of the building. The door was

_ opened, and the trio disappeared within, closing it be-
hind them,

Their actions created no end of speculation and
comment.

-“T didn’t see them bring any. weapons,” remarked
one. “I wonder if they expect to find them in there.”

“It strikes me that this is all a huge joke,” said
another. “Merriwell is not fool enough to fight with
pistols, swords, or anything of the sort.”

“Here comes Arlington!” exclaimed Dave Flint.
“Blacklock is with him!”

Chester and Rand were seen descending the road.
They approached the group of boys, and Chet nodded
with his usual familiarity.

“Well, we’re on hand,”

get here in good season.”

“You're ahead of time,’ observed Horace Logan.

“Where's Merriwell?’ inquired Arlington.

“He hasn’t arrived yet.”

_. “T hope he’ll not cause any delay,”
“T don’t think he will!” cried Oscar Jones.
he comes now!”

Dick was coming, and his only companion was Tip
a MIXen,
_ Arlington seized Blacklock by the shoulder and
hissed in his ear:
“Just what I thought!
“Mixer!”

_ “Tf that little coward thinks he’s going to duck in
such a manner,” sneered Rand, “he’s liable to dis-
cover his mistake! Unless I’m finished here to-day,
he’ll have to meet me to-morrow—or squeal!”

As Dick came up, Chet stepped out to meet him.

_ “T presume you've brought the weapons?” he ques-
% tioned.

| att Pinks a committee of three is now preparing the

he commanded. “This is
to prepare the

>

he said. “Thought we'd

spoke Blacklock.
“There

Merriwell is doing this for

- kegs.

 

WEEKLY.

“Do you mind stating now what sort of weapons
will be used ?”

Dick glanced at his watch.

“You'll have a chance to see them in about six min-

utes,” he said.
“This monkey business makes me sick!’ growled
Chester. ‘“What’s the game, Merriwell?. Why don’t

you out with it like a man?”

“Oh, never mind, Arlington,” cut in Blacklock. “As

long as it’s not to be a fist fight, I’m willing to accept —

whatever weapons he names.”

“There’s Buckhart!’ exclaimed Bradley.
fellows ’ave hopened the door hover there!
bringing hout something!”

The three boys who had entered the little building
at the far end of the quarry were now seen bringing
an object forth into plain view. The excited and curi-
ous lads watched their movements eagerly.

“Why, it seems to be a keg,” said one.

It was a small keg, about a foot and a half in length.
This the boys placed upright on the ground near one
of the quarry walls, Having done this, they hurried
back into the little building, soon reappearing with
another keg, which was also placed upright some forty
feet from the first.

“Now, what the dickens are they doing?” muttered
Arlington, truly Bee
’ confessed Blacklock.

“Those
They’re

“You've got me,’

The three lads worked hurriedly, reentering the,
small building a number of times. Finally Buckhart
came hurrying toward the curious group of watchers.

Singling out Arlington, he addressed him:

“Tt’s about time for this affair to be pulled off, r

judge. The weapons are ready.”

“What are they? Come, speak up at last! You've |

fooled around long enough!”

“You can see them over, yonder, I opine,” nodded
the Texan. |

“See them—where?” |
“Those two kegs.”
“Oh, blazes!” cried Chet.
“I don’t judge you'll find it so. Those are powder
One of them contains ordinary blasting powder,
while the other is filled with an equal amount of black
‘sand. Neither you nor any one save we fellows who

“This is a farce!’

arranged them know which one contains the powder

and which one contains the sand. We've fitted lines of
fuse-to both kegs. Mr. Blacklock has his choice. He
may take either one he wishes. Merriwell will accept

the other.. Having settled this point, Merriwell and "

 

ga Sinema tsi

 

Gee ee

 

 
TIP TOP

Blacklock will go over there and take their seats on
those kegs. At a signal Darrell and Black will fire
the fuses. If both fellows sit still on the kegs long
enough, one of them will sure take a quick trip to the
Golden Shore.”

“Whoever heard of anything so preposterous?”
_ shouted Arlington. “This is not a duel. We refuse to
be imposed upon in such a manner!”

“Then I opine your friend is a heap ready to apolo-
gize or take that little ride F spoke of,” said Brad.

The explanation of the Texan had stirred the entire
group of boys. Some of them were absolutely aghast,
while others seemed either doubtful or frightened.

Arlington fiercely remonstrated against the arrange-

ments, but Rand Blacklock was silent.
“Oh, well,” said Buckhart, “if Blacklock hasn’t the
nerve to choose one of those kegs and sit on it until
he finds out whether it contains powder or sand, this
business is ended.”

“No one can bluff me in such a way!” panted Rand
suddenly. “Come on! I’lk take the keg on the right
_ —the one by the wall yonder.”

“And I'll accept the other one,” nodded Dick.
“We'll walk across together. I see Darrell and Black
are waiting, ready to fire the fuses.”

The breathless, quivering boys silently watched.the
two lads as they started to walk toward the kegs. Ar-
lington was the only one who spoke. He forced a
sneering laugh and muttered:

a “If Dick Merriwell thinks he’s going to frighten
_ Rand Blacklock, he’s made the mistake of his life!”
ms, Merriwell was the first to reach a keg, and he de-
liberately sat upon it, with the line of fuse, about four
feet in length, lying on the ground between’ his feet.
_ The top of the kegs had been covered by loose
boards. As Blacklock started to sit down he peered
__ betweert the cracks of two boards and distinctly saw
| that the keg chosen by him was surely two-thirds full
of a substance that looked like coarse black powder.
For the first time, a chill ran over Rand. Still, he
_ retained command of himself and sat down.
“Are yo ready, gentlemen?” inquired Barron
_ Black, as both he and Darrell crouched at the ends of
the fuses, matches in their hands.
“All ready,” nodded Dick.

“Ready,”’ answered Blacklock, a trifle huskily.
The matches were struck simultaneously and applied

to the fuses. In a@ moment tiny curls of blue smoke

began to rise from the ends of those fuses. Then Black
and Darrell leaped up, whirled, and fled as if for their
very lives.

 

 

 

&
ee
Lest

vow

i ee ee

moet 7

 

 

WEEKLY. 25

_smoke as if fascinated by it.

   

     
  
   
   
  
   
 
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
    
  
  
   
 

Rand Blacklock watched that curling bit of blue
He heard the spluttering
hiss of the fuse and saw the smoke creeping nearer and
nearer. Once he turned his head and glanced toward
Merriwell.

Dick was sitting on the keg, with his legs crossed,
quite at his ease.

“Curse him!” thought Blacklock. “Is he fool
enough to take such chances? Does he mean to sit
here until one of us is blown into fragments? I don’t
believe it! I'll stick as long as he does!”

Nearer and nearer came the curling bit of flame.
Tiny sparks of fire were emitted from the fuse, which
was being rapidly eaten away.

Needless to say, most of the boys at the far end of
the quarry were staring at the lads on the kegs as if
paralyzed by the spectacle.

Suddenly Tip Mixer uttered a cry and made a spring
as if to rush across the quarry.

“Fe sha’n’t do it!” shrieked the little fellow.
take his place!”

It was Buckhart who seized Tip by the collar and
held him in spite of his struggles. |

“You keep still some!’ commanded the Texan.
“You can’t interfere in this affair now, little pard.
There’s going to be something doing in a minute.”

“It’s murder—murder!” shrieked Tip; “and I’m to
blame for it all!”

Blacklock distinctly heard the words of Mixer, and
that wild cry of “murder” added another chill to the
blood which seemed to course like ice-water through
his veins. Once more he turned a momentary glance
in Merriwell’s direction. Se

“What if one of these kegs does contain powder?”
he thought. “I believe Merriwell is just lunaticenough
to do such a thing. Perhaps I’ve chosen the keg that ‘ Pe
holds the powder! I believe I have! I know I have! *
It’s Merriwell’s luck to get the other one! Luck has
always stood by him.” Be

The curling blue smoke had reached the bottom of
the keg and was beginning to creep up the fuse. |
Nearer and nearer it came.

Blacklock’s imagination pictured the frightful fin-—
ish of the affair. In fancy he heard the terrific ex-
plosion that must follow when the fire reached the

powder. He saw himself blown into the air and torn
limb from limb.

OTT

 
       
       
         
         
      
      
 

Nearer, nearer, crept the curling smoke. oe
Rand Blacklock began to quiver like a leaf in a

gale. Suddenly, with a yell of terror, he ee from |
the keg and fled for his life.

     
          
      
26 aif. TOP

Then Dick Metriwell quickly reached down between

his kneeS, seized the end of the spluttering fuse, yanked
it out of the keg, and threw it away.

“Get away, Dick!” yelled one of the boys. “You
may be hurt if the other one explodes!”

WEEKLY.

That evening a number of boys gathered in Merri-
well’s room to talk over the most singular duel ever’
fought.

Tip Mixer was there.

“Well, Tip,” smiled Dick, “T don’t think you'll have

The curling smoke dipped down over the edge of to go up against Mr. Blacklock. I doubt if he appears

the keg abandoned by Blacklock. Fora few moments
it continued to rise between the cracks of the boards
on the keg, and then it died out.

“Curse Blacklock for a fool!” muttered Arlington.
“He had the keg that contains sand! He’s branded as
a coward forever!”

* * * x * * *

Needless to say, Rand Blacklock and Chester Ar-
lington took the afternoon train out of Fardale.

 

 

 

Numbers of Tip | Top Weekly

We receive hundreds of letters every week from readers
asking if we can supply the early numbers of ue Top coftain.”
ing Frank’s advéntures. In evety case we ate obliged to reply
that numbers 1 to 300 are entirely ont of print.

We would like to call the attention of our réaders to the fact
that the Fraik Merriwell Stories now being published in book
form in the Medal Library are inclusive of these early numbers.
Een a beek to appear was No, 150 entitled “Frank Meerriwell's

ooldays.”’ ;

We give herewith a complete list of all the stories that have
been published in book form up to the time of writing, We will
be glad to send a fine colored cover catalogue of thé Medal
Library which i# just filled with good things for boys, upon
receipt of & one-cont stamp to cover postage.

Ths Prica of The Merriwell Books is Ten Cents por Copy. At all Newsdeclers

 

 

 

Frank Merriwell at Yale.

¥rauk Merriwell Down gouth.

Frank Meérriwel! in Camp.

Frank Mérriwéll in England

Frank Mertiwell in Hurope.

¥rank Merriwell in Maine.

Frank arececeetl on the Road.

Frank Merriwell’a Athieteg,

Frank Merriwell's Bicycle Tour. Medal
Frank Mérriwell’s Book of off acre Development.

jlamond Hand-Book
Merriwell’s
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Fran

Frank Morriwell’s Ch

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Ya ein le, a
. '

Bravery.
Champions.
Ase,

Chums.
College Chums,
Courage.
Cruise.
Danger.

oes,

Fertune.

Great Scheme,

Hard Luck. |

Huating Tour.

Leyalty.

New Comédian.

Opportunity.

Own Company.

ae
rosperity.

Protege.

Races.

Return to Yale.

School-Days.

Secret.

Skil).

Sports Afleld.

Stage Hit.

Struggle.

Trip West.

Vacation.

Car
SoS Sw NRE AS

Pia At > Mik. Fim. eee hin Se Ae ea ei eee ta aie
yi NAR © aa Rd

‘

to meet you in the morning. That lets you out, for
you can treat him with contempt if he ever tries to
force another quarrel on you.” ;

“Dick, it was wonderful—pup-pup-pup-perfectly
wonderful!” spluttered Jolliby. ‘You sus-sus-sus-sat
there on that old keg as cuc-cuc-ctic-cool as a cue-cuc-
cuc-cucumber on a ctic-cuc-cuc-cake of ice.”

“And that ’owling hold keg was the one that con-
tained the powder, don’t you know!” exclaimed Billy
Bradley.

Buckhart gave a roar of laughter and slapped his
knee.

“Dick didn’t know but it contained powder,” he said.
“It was his proposition that one of the kegs should be
filled with sand and the other one with powder, but
the committee who prepared the weapons looked out
for that. Neither one of those kegs contained an

ounce of powder! Both were filled with sand!”
| b |
THE END.

The Next Number (618) Will Contain |

FRANK MERRIWELL’S NEW BOY:

OR,

The Folly of Dale Sparkfair.

Dale Sparkfair—«‘Post No Bills!’?—Sparkfair and Graves.

« Testing the Stranger—The Doctor’s Examination.
With the Gloves—Fooled Again—The Plot of the
Black Hand—Dale Retaliates—A Cool Captive—The
Boy Who Conquered Six—At the Village Grocery. 3
The Courage of Cyrus Tellmore—The Arrest and the —
Release.

sh
-

Beware of cheap imitations of the Tip
Top Weekly. Frank and Dick Merriwelland |
their friends appear only inthe pages of Tip _
Top. BURT L. STANDISH writes exclus- _
ively for Tip Top and has been the author
of the ONLY and ORIGINAL Merriwell
stories for over nine years. cs

 

 
 

at ee

TO READERS OF TIP TOP

 

We earnestly recommend to all readers of Tip Top, the King of the

Wild West Stories in the Rough Rider Weekly.

These are, without doubt, second only to the Frank Merriwell Stories.

Ted Strong’s adventures as the young deputy sheriff of Strongburg will
make you enthusiastic,

Do not fail to make his acquaintance. Get the cutrent number from

your newsdealer and after you have tead it, you will thank us for calling
your attention to Rough Rider,

PRICE, FIVE CENTS

 

Se eT a eet

HERE ARE SOME OF THE LATEST TITLES

80—King of the Wild West’s Camel Hunt; or, Young
Rough Riders in the Mojave Desert.

81—King of the Wild West and the “Bad Men”; or,
Putting a “Lid” on the Territory. '

82—King of the Wild West on Guard; or, In the Cause
of the Governor’s Son.

83—King of the Wild West’s “Bounties”; or, The
Young Wolf Hunters of Montana.

84—King of the Wild West’s Sapphire Mines; or, The

Smugglers of Yogo Creek.
85—King of the Wild West’s Crooked Trail; or, A Trip
into Old Mexico.
86—King of the Wild West’s Human Map; or, The
Treasure of the Magic Cave Trail.
87—King of the Wild West in the Corral; or, Teach-
ing the Law to Custer, the Wild Horse.

_88—King of the Wild West’s Dangerous Game; or,

The Win-Out in Idaho.

89—King of the Wild West’s Strange Find; or, The
Lost City of the Sangre de Christo.

go—King of the Wild West’s Militia; or, Breaking the
Strike in Leadville.

 

91—King of the Wild West’s Justice; or, The shee
War of the Las Animas.

92—King of the Wild West’s Saint; or, The End ‘e
Polygamy in Utah.

. 93—King, of the Wild West’s Hold; or, Capturing the

Big Timber Thieves.

94—King of the Wild West’s Submarine;
Search for Sunken Treasure.

95—King of the Wild West’s Finish; or, The Great
Stone Door.

96—King of the Wild West’s Peril; or, The Cannibals
of Tiburon Island.

97—King of the Wild West’s Strange Quest; or, The
White Princess of Sonora.

‘98—King of the Wild West’s Horsethief; or, ‘The
Enigma of Lost Springs.

99—King of the Wild West’s Chase; or, The Rescue

; of Yuen Ho.

or, The

100—King of the Wild West’s Meteor; or, The Race for

the Klondike Diamond.

Cae of the Wild West in Siberia; or, Castaway on.

e Arctic Ocean.

 

These may be secured from any newsdealer at five cents per copy, or
if your newsdealer cannot supply you, we will send them direct sige )

ke upon receipt of price.

oa

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, NEW YORK

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
     
   
    
    
  
  
  
    
 

 
  

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{

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NEW YORK, March Io, 1906.

 

 

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AN GWUNB: cagacadeaswice de aban 85c, | 2 copies one year.............. 4.00
ERO aoe ical uciurob aces abe ae $1.25 L copy two years...;.........5. 4.00

How to Send Money—By post-office or express money order,
registered letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. Atyour own risk if sent
by currenoy, 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 once.

STREET & SMITH’S TIP TOP WEEKLY,
79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York City,

 

=

TIP TOP ROLL OF HONOR.

 

Following the suggestion of Mr. Burt L. Standish, that appearedy

in his letter to Tip Top readers in No. 480, the following loyal Tip
Toppers have won for themselves a place on our Honor Roll for their
efforts to increase the circulation of the King of Weeklies. Get inline
boys and girls and strive to have your name at the head of the list.
Alfred S. Bryan, Warrensburg, Mo.
W. H. Alkire, 295 Lamal St., Bridgeton, N. J.
Loyal Canadian Tip Topper, Renfrew, Ont.
Eugene St. Laurent, Saginaw, Mich.
Marvin Colfax White, 169 3d St., Portiand, Ore.
Earl Gardner, 560 Holmes St., Kansas City, lo.
Ford Gamber, Workman, Ohio.
Jim Jordan, 908 Madison St., Covington, Ky.
Nebraska Tent [aker, Tremont, Neb.
A Blue Eyed Chicago Girl, Chicago, Ill.
The names of other enthusiastic Tip Toppers will be added from

time to time. Send in the result of your efforts to push the circula-
tion of your favorite weekly and win a place on the Roll of Honor.

APPLAUSE.

Owing to the number of letters received, the editors of Tip Top
cannot undertake to secure their publication under six weeks. T'hose
who contribute to this department must not expect to see them before
that time.

 

 

 

Have you got the Tip Tors in print from No. 1 to the present
number? If so, will you please let me know, for I want to get
the whole littary of them if I can?
As I have beeti reading,Tir Tor Weerxty.for about one year,
I thought I would write a letter to the Applause column. Tip
Top is the finest weekly that is printed, for I have read all the
other weeklies, but none are as good as Tip Top.
Frank is the finest young man I ever read about. Of his
friends I like are Bart, Ready, Starbright, Stretcher, Hans,
Browning and the rest of his gang. And of Dick’s gang are
Brad, Darrell, Tubbs and the rest. And of the girls, Inza, Elsie,
June, Doris, and little Felicia.

-I am glad Frank is married. Doris is the girl for Dick, and
‘I hope he will marry her. -
| think I am taking too much space in the Applause for the

first time.

 

WEEKLY.

If any readers of Tie Tor will correspond with me, here is
my address.

With three cheers for Tie Top, Street & Smith, and Burt L.
Standish, I remain, Harry T. Cooke.

618 West Main Street, Lexington, Ky.

The issues of Tre Tor now in print begin only with No. 305.
The stories of Frank appearing before that one can now be ob-
tained only in the Medal Library. They are issued at ten cents
a volume.

 

I have been reading your Tre Top WEEKLY avery long time,
and think it is very interesting. I think Dick is all right. I like
Dick and Brad the best, because I read more about therh than
Frank’s crowd. I think Dick ought to knock Arlington out of
the pot.
If you do, I have a number of them I ;would like to exchange.

Lro CHRISTMAN.

Flemingburg, Ky.

There are a great many readers who wish to exchange back
issues. Watch for the numbers that they mention, and write,
telling them what you have to give in the way of exchange. We
do not exchange back numbers.

 

I have only been reading Tre Top Werk ty a short time, but
thought I would take the liberty of writing a letter to the Ap-
plause column, and let you know that Tip Top is rightly named.
It is the best five-cent book I have ever read; it is clean, bright.
Fiction is undoubtedly based on fact, more or less. Tre Top is

written by a master hand, which is proved by its having held the |

interest of all readers, irrespective of age, sex, color, or nation-
ality, for ten years. , This entitles Mr. B. L.
tip-top place among writers of the present day.

I have several thousand five and ten-cent books, also three
thousand comic postal cards—untused—to exchange for all Tre
Top numbers from 1 to 465, either single numbers or quarterlies.
If the reader has any of them, please write me what numbers
you have‘and what you will take for them. Will pay cash if I
have to. Would thank you for catalogue of numbers you can
supply. With best wishes to Burt L. Standish and Street &
Smith, I am, yours for better acquaintance,

Bridgeton, N. J Danie. D. DEAN.

We éan supply you with early numbers as far back as No.
304. To obtain the stories that appeared in Trp Top before that
number you will have to order the Frank Merriwell issues in our
Medal Library. They will be mailed post-paid upon the receipt
of fourteen cents.

 

I have read your famous Tip Top Weex ty for a long time,
and thought that it was about time I was expressing my opinion
of it. I think the characters are fine. I would like to see an-
other Virginia character in- Tip Tor. I think that coyote Arling-
ton ought to be kicked. \I was glad to see him expelled from
Fardale. I have done all I could to increase the circulation of
Tire Top in my town. I would be glad to hear from any Tip
Top readers and exchange souvenir post-cards. Will return
favors. I will close, wishing success to Burt L. Standish, Street
& Smith, and everybody connected with Tir Top

Box 128, Bedford City, Va. WittiAm A, OBENCHAIN.

While Chet got what he deserved when they expelled him
from Fardale, you should not feel vindictive about it.
member the old saying: “Don’t kick a man when he is down.”
There is always a little good in the worst of men, and it will
come to the surface when the proper time calls it forth. Give
Chet a chance—he might have.a change of heart, reform, and
become a good man.

 

I have been for several years a reader of your king of week-
lies, Trp Top, and would like to express my admiration for it.
I like Dick and his crowd best, and Doris is my favorite of the
girls.

I am a collector of postal cards, and would like to exchange
with* Tre Top readers all over the world.

Some one in the Applause column in No. 497 signed her
name “A Kansas Lassie,” stating that she would correspond —

with Tre Top admirers. Hoping that she will see this in print

Do you exchange any old back numbers for new ones? |

Standish to the

Re- |

 

soon,

| Smith,

A

“Fic
y jtist 2
| huntir
with ;

eT h
_ have
I will
him,
girls,
_ Franl
_ truthi
| dale,
— would
- signe
| dress
as it
eo An
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forw:
| other
be p
to w

He

I th
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pow att

read

it ar
will

Stew
—_
=

a
oO
ph

 

 
   

  

soon, I close, wishing success to Burt L. Standish, Street &

is ' | Smith, and all Tre Tor characters. Yours truly,

 

7 P. O. Box 629, Pénsacola, Fla. Gam. B. Gorey.
: “Florida” has a delicious sound in our pinched Northern ears
- just at this season of the year. Oh! the delights of fishing and
s; hunting down your way, and how we all would like to be there
fis _ with you!
ts ;
I have been a constant reader of your king of weeklies, but
have never written anything for the Applause column, which
C, I will now try and do. I think Dick is “the candy.’ Next to
e | him, I like Hal, Brad, Gardner, Ted and all the rest. Of the
n _ girls, I like Doris best, then June, Zona, and Felicia. Of

ft _ Frank’s flock, I like him best, then Bart, Ready, Morgan, and ~

? | truthful James Stretcher. I am glad Arlington is out of Far-
a _ dale, and I hope Bob Rioden will soon have to follow him. I

| would like to correspond with the girl from Hopkins, Wis., who
signed her name Blue-Eyed Meg, if she will send me her ad-

* dress through the Applause column. Will close for this time,
as it is my first effort, A Hooster Bovy..

"s _ Anderson, Ind.

eC

|. We cannot undertake to receive addresses in the office and
_ forward them to correspondents. Those who wish “to write to

| other readers should always send their name and address to
t be published with the letter. This gives others an opportunity
to write direct, if they so desire.

 

oy - Having been a reader of your weekly for a couple of years,
- I thought I would write you a few lines. I think Tre Top a
very good book for a boy or a girl. I see in 497 where “A
i _ Kansas Lassie” would like to correspond with some Tip Top
readers. Well, if she will write me a starter, I will answer
it and as many more as she will send. Well, hoping this letter
\ Ls will not go in the scrap pile, I remain, Joun W. DENEEN.
| iat West Third Street, Corning, N. Y.

t. Writing letters to young ladies always has been a popular
| diversion, and you do not seem to be an exception to the rule.

 

As I have been a reader of Tip Top for over a year, I thought
[ I would write and express my opinion. I think Tre Top is the
_ best weekly published. /
Of the old flock, I like Frank, Bart, Hans, and Ephriam best.
' Of the new flock, I like Dick, Brad, Ted. Smart, and, reaily, all
of them.

J think June is the girl for Dick, but I leave it all with Burt
 L, Standish.

 

ss I would be glad to see something about Frank Merriwell
these days.
~ lama collector of souvenir postal cards, and would be glad
_| to exchange postal cards with any Tip Tor readers. Yours.
| truly, Merritt Lyon, Jr. }
fe 110 Lawrence Street, Marietta, Ga.
Of course you like all_of the characters. So does every one
+ else.

 

The pleasure derived from having Dick and Brad back at
» | school again has awakened in me a longing to express. my senti-
| ments concerning Tip Tor. I think it is simply grand, and it
@ets better every week. Burt L. Standish is ’way ahead of any
author that ever wrote on the same line. I have the mania for
collecting souvenir postals, and have eleven hundred and eighty-
three in my collection, but am not satisfied yet. If any ‘Tip
| Topper wants to get some beautiful mining scenes’ on post-
| cards I'll exchange. As this is not my first letter, I will quit.
| Wishing every one concerned with Tre Top the best of success, I
remain, very truly yours, M., M. Hazectine.
433 South Arizona Street, Butte, Mont. |

Tre Tor is still in the lead in the great copper city of the
West. It ought to be interesting to receive postal cards from
Be a place where the whole city is built on ground honeycombed
with tunnels. Think of walking along the streets when there

 

 

  
 
    
 

: are men drilling away hundreds and hundreds of feet below
you night and day!
Re we

 

+I TOP

WEEKLY. | 29

 

Although I have only been reading your famous Tip Top
WEEKLY for three months, I thought I would write, to let you
know my opinion of it. It certainly is grand, and I am sorry
I did not know sucha book was published before. Sinte I
started reading it I haye conquered several bad habits—many
thanks to Burt L. Standish.

I have started to gather old numbers of Tire Top, and have’
already secured a large number. As I am a new reader, I like
Dick’s flock better than I do Frank’s. I think I am taking up
too much of your valuable space, so I will close. Hoping this
will “steal a march” on the waste-basket, I will close, with three
cheers for Burt L. Standish, Street & Smith, and others. A
Tip Topper forever, “GEAL” VAETH.

Utica; Ne ¥:

Your sincere tribute will strike a responsive chord in other
Trp Top readers.

 

I have been a constant reader of your king of weeklies, Tip
Top, from No. 1 to date. I think Tie Top is a model magazine
for young Americans. Chester Arlington is all right, but I
think Frank is the ideal young American. Not every one,
however, can be perfect, and I.think Chester Arlington is more
like the average American boy. My favorite among the girls is.
June. I think Doris ranks next, then Felicia: I think Brad is
Dick’s best friend. Since Dick is back at the old school again
I shall hope to see some lively adventures. Hoping this letter
is not too long, and that I shall soon see it in print, I remain,
as ever, A Constant READER.

Your opinion of Chester Arlington is radically different from
that of nearly all our other readers. You might "really believe
that he has many good qualities, and you have.a perfect right
to that belief, but we feel sure that you will agree with us
when we say that he is by no means a representative young
American. If you follow his life attentively you will soon see
that he is a boy who is sadly lacking in the qualities which Dick
has, for instance, and which make the English-speaking boy the
most perfect specimen of manliness and square-dealing.

 

As I have not seen any letters from this place, I shall try to
write a few words. I have read your Tip Top for’ several
years, and value it very highly. Friday is the best day of the
week for me. The first thing I, do after school is to rush to
the bookstore to get my Tie Top. One day, when I was read-
‘ing a Tie Top, our minister came in and asked me why I wasted
my time reading such trashy stuff. I asked him to read it and
give me his opinion of it. He returned it in a few days and
praised it very highly. Of the characters, I like Hal Darrell the
best. I think Frank is a model young man, and Dick should
try to follow in his footsteps:. As my letter is getting long, I
wish success to the king of weeklies, and remain,

Payne, Ohio. Jack Harpy.

J

Your letter is very interesting. What you say about the min-
ister should be seen by all parents who are thinking of placing
good stories in the hands of their boys.

 

We have read quite a number of five and ten-cent novels, but
we find the Tip Top our favorite. Our favorite characters are
Dick Merriwell, Bradley Buckhart, Hal Darrell, Earl Gardner,
June Arlington, and Doris Templeton. Zona Desmond is getting
better since Chester Arlington’s\downfall. We hope to see Logan
make a catch there. If Chester Arlington or Bob Rioden want
any scrapping, ‘send them to Mariné Mills, and we will take care
of them.

Obediah seems to be losing some brains in the picture of
No, 496. Poor Obediah! I love you so.

We hope Bob Rioden received his just deserts when knocked
out by Dick Merriwell in the cedars back of thé academy.

Hoping for good luck and a long life to the Trp Tor and Burt
L. Standish, we-remain, two admirers of the Tie Top Week ty,

CorNELIUS ANDERSON,

Marine Mills, Minn. Joun LumMwortH.

How many favorites you boys have! But it is to be expected
that you should, for there are so many things to admire in the .
various characters of Tie Top that one has to take them all to
one’s bosom, as it were.

  

 
ever amount to anything in the broad jump?

\

 

 

 

 

  
   
 
     
  
   
 
   
    
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
    
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
   
 
  
  
 
   
  
   
 
  
   
    
       
  

Pror. FourMEN: Being a constant reader of Tip Top, I take
the liberty of sending in my measurements and of asking a few
questions. My measurements are: Age, 16 years 4 months;
weight, 130 pounds; height, 5 feet 9 inches; chest, normal, 32
inches; expanded, 35 inches; forearms, 10 inches; biceps, relaxed,
9 inches; contracted, 11 inches; thighs, 17% inches; calf, 12%
inches; neck, 1314 inches; wrists, 7 inches; shoulders, 35 inches.
How are my measurements? What are my weak points? How
can I strengthen them? What is a good daily exercise? Finish-
ing my first attempt, and thanking you in advance, I remain,

Mt. Vernon, Ind. F. Z. E., A Tie Topper.

Your weak points are lack of proper weight, small chest de-
velopment, undeveloped biceps. The calves and thighs also are
undersized. Rowing, boxing, running, weight lifting, dumb-bells,
and Indian clubs will give you the all-round development which
seems to be required in your case. Fifteen minutes in your room
mornings with the dumb-bells and Indian clubs, followed by a
sponge bath and rub-down should be part of your routine. Five
minutes deep breathing in addition to this will benefit your lungs.
Whenever you can get outdoors and run, walk, or play games
such as football and baseball, do. not neglect the opportunity.
Exercise half-an-hour before going to bed.

 

Pror. FourMEN: Will you please answer the following ques-
tions? 1. How much should a boy 19 years old, 5 feet 23%
inches in height, weigh? 2. What should be ‘the correct meas-
urements for his chest, neck, biceps, forearms, waist, thighs, and
calves? A would-be athlete, ‘

Beldenville, Wis.

- 1. From one hundred and eleven to one hundred and sixteen
pounds. i :

2. His proportions should be as follows: Neck, 12 inches;
waist, 30 inches; chest, from 34 to 35 inches; biceps, 12 inches;
forearm, 954 inches; thighs, 17 inches; calves, 12 inches. If your
measurements corresponded to these you would be a fully devel-
oped man. Take a thorough course in a gymnasium and strive
to reach perfection.

 

Pror. FourMEN: I would like very much to have your opinion
of my prospect as a standing broad jumper. I am sixteen years

of age, weigh one hundred and fifteen pounds, and can jump

nine feet standing, without weights. Do you think that I could

i I have a brother

twenty-one years of age who can jump ten feet when not in

training. Please give me the nelstd for broad jump and state

the build of a jumper. Yours truly, l A. B. SEE.
Morrilton, Ark. :

The world’s record for the broad jump is eleven feet four and

-seven-eighths inches.. The broad jumper is generally of slight
_ proportions and does not carry any superfluous flesh.

 

_ Pror. Fourmen: Having read the Trp Top Werexty from No.

1 to the present date, I take the liberty of asking your advice.
sid am 15 years 5 months oid and weigh 133 pounds. Height, 5

 

  

‘morning.

the “Frank Merriwell Book of Athletic Development” enough

  

ote

 

|

feet 814 inches; chest, normal, 32 inches; expanded, 34 inches;
biceps, 1114 inches; waist, 29 inches; forearm, 1014 inches; wrist, —
7 inches; thighs, 20 inches; calf, 12 inches; neck, 1334 inches. I.
What do you think of my measurements? 2. I would like to
know how to develop my biceps. 3. I do everything in the talk
on muscle-building in “Frank Merriwell’s Book of Athletic De-
velopment.” 4. My shoulders look very long, and I would like
to know how to put some muscle on them. 5. I belong to a
gym. and go there every night, doing my other exercise in the
Is that all right? 6. Please tell me how to cure ~
round shoulders. When I put my coat on I look kind of slouched _
forward. 7. How can I strengthen my fingers? 8. Please tell ;
me a good way to develop the back. I remain, a true friend to —
the Trp Top, M. Bruno.
New York City.

As you lack several pounds in weight, your measurements are
below the standard. When you have followed the directions in

you will find that you are improving. Of course, some people
are. designed by nature to be thin and lanky, but even they can

put on some flesh and convert it into hard muscle by proper 1

q

training. Keep up your exercises, but do not overdo it. Some

people become too enthusiastic and work so hard in the gymna-

sium that they lose flesh instead of increasing their proportions.
Be moderate. Pay strict attention to diet. As you are working.
in the wholesale district, where everything is hustle and bustle, ~

 

Ny 8 CDR fo se) Rn a4 ae RR am ig

 

making it necessary to have every minute count, do not make the
mistake of rushing to a lunch-counter during the noon hour and ~
devouring a sandwich and a piece of pie, and calling it lunch.
This sort of noonday meal is characteristic of the American peo-
ple, unfortunately, and has made us a nation of dyspeptics. For —
one who intends to get the best out of his meals, from a hygienic
point of view, a person should eat only what will give him
plenty of nutriment. Eat a plate of beef stew, with plenty of;
brown bread or some beans, and a dish of stewed prunes or —
figs for lunch, Leave out the pastry and be sure to thoroughly
masticate your food. At dinner, eat meat and potatoes and —
some of the fatty part of the meat if you wish, but avoid heavy —

gravies. Fruit and vegetables, and a pudding made of tapioca — ,

or cornstarch, can be added to your evening meals. Keep regu-_
lar hours and free from pernicious habits, Follow these few
simple instructions and you will begin to notice the results you
so ardently desire. In speaking of round shoulders, I find that
they are generally due to carelessness. Simply make it a point —

to sit up straight and walk erect when on the street, and this

disagreeable deformity will disappear. At first you, will have —

to be constantly thinking of it and check yourself every time Ny

you begin to stoop. But when you have formed the habit of: f:
always throwing the shoulders back it; will become second nature _

to you, and that position will be assumed unconsciously. You om ip

will find that all bending exercises are good to develop the —

4

Wari 25

 

muscles of the back uo ,

 

 
  
 

 

 

 

 

| GET A SET OF THESE FREE!
Ohe ane R

Rough
Rider

POST CARDS

Cites een: of boys
| everywhere will agree
with us when we say that
the Rough Rider Weekly
contains the best stories of
Western adventure that
ever were written. The
author, Ned Taylor, is a
Western man—born and
raised among the strong,
self-reliant cowboys.

We will send a set of
handsome post cards, six in
number, to every boy who
will write and tell us what he |

| thinks of No. 98 of Rough Rider Weekly, entitled ‘‘King of the
Wild West’s Horsethief; or, The Enigma of Lost Springs.”
| These cards are highly attractive, being printed in many colors, |
showing just what Ted Strong, the King of the Wild West, and his com-
rades look like. They are equal to the kind you pay five cents each
for and are just what every boy, who is making a collection, will want.
_. Remember, they are entirely free and every boy who says a good
‘word for Rough Rider will receive a set. | |

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

STREET & SMITH "42WSHEr*

 
BOYS! BOYS!

BOYS!

 

 

 

 

TIP TOP

FREE POST CARDS!

 

 

 

 

T the present time over
one hundred thousand
copies, of, TEP FOP

ECT are sold throughout the

United States every week! There

are many good reasons why boys like

TIP TOP better than any other

five cent weekly publication. Why

do YOU like it?
We have prepared a set of six

  

handsome post cards, which we will
“send to every boy who will write and
give us his opinion of No. 518 of
TIP TOP, entitled “Frank Merri-
well’s New Boy; or, The Folly of
Dale Sparkfair.”

These cards are illustrations of
Frank Merriwell, Brad Buckhart,
Obediah ‘Tubbs, Joe Crowfoot, Dick
Merriwell, and Cap’n Wiley. _

They are printed in many colors
and will be a fine addition to any
boy’s collection of post cards. Write
now. They are free.

 

 

\

STREET @ SMITH |

 

PUBLISHERS

NEW YORK

teases ee —

a

    

acy

 

 
   

 
 

 
 

THE FAVORITE LIST

OF FIVE-CENT LIBRARIES

 

 

P CAUTION! a2-ze

J a To Ewe a

TIP TOP WEEKLY

 

 

boy of to-day.
to have exciting sport.

 

Frank and Dick Merriwell are two brothers whose adventures in
college and on the athletic field are of intense interest to the American
They prove that a boy does not have to be a rowdy

 

Buffalo Bill Stories

Buffalo Bill is the hero of a

 

 

thousand exciting adventures

pe ad aed .
Ra spe ton among the Redskins. These are
given to our boys only in the
Buffalo Bill Stories.

‘bound to interest and please you.

They are

 

 

 

 

Nick Carter Weekly

aa TERT We know, boys, that there is
areca 3) | no need of introducing to you
Nie ean | Nicholas Carter, the greatest
ye( sijiifc | Sleuth that ever lived. Every
number containing the adven-

| tures of Nick Carter has a peculiar,

_ but ee? power of fascina-

 

All-Spoxts Library
6 AUESRORISY 9

Tay

I CK linraors Newve)
Wh na it

 

All sports that boys are inter-
ested in, ate carefully dealt with
in the All-Sports Library. The
stories deal with the adventures
of plucky lads while indulging in
healthy pastimes.

 

 

Paul Jones Weekly

 

 

Panos

Do not think for a_ second,
boys, that these stories are a lot
of musty history, just sugar-

 

rn Ties nee AL)

 

rn yr ee a yremenrona

 

coated. They are all new tales of
exciting adventure on land and
sea, in all of which boys of your
own age took part.

 

 

“ine and Bold

Every boy who prefers variety
in his reading matter, ought to
be a reader of Brave and Bold.
All these were written by authors
who are past masters in the art
Every

of telling boys’ stories.

 

tale is complete in itself.

> TT te In avain)
ROU J (G ti me dD} ht
‘ TOMES Pum

"Rough Rider Weekly

Ted Strong was appointed dep-
| uty marshal by accident, but he
| resolves to use his authority and

; rid his ranch of some very tough
“@;|| bullies. He does it in sucha slick
a way that everyone calls him
et] ‘King of the Wild West” and he
JM I] certainly deserves his title.

MOL

 

 

Diamond Dick Weekly —

The demand for stirring: stories
of Western adventure is admir-
ably filled by this library. Every
up-to-date boy ought to read just
how law and order are estab-
lished and maintained on our
Western plains by Diamond Dick,
| Bertie, and Handsome Harry.

 

 

 

_ Bower Boy Library

The adventures of a poor waif
whose only name is ‘‘Bowery
Billy.” Billy is the true product
of the streets of New York. No
m | boy can read the tales of his trials
") | without imbibing some of that re-

Mf} source and courage that makes
|| the character of this homeless boy
stand out so prominently.