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JULY 8,1911

AN IDEALPUBLICA

   

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Issued Weekly. By subscrgption $2.50 per year, Entered as Second-class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Ace., N.Y
Copyright, 1911, y STREET & SMITH.

 

No. 795.

Dick Merriwell’s

NEW YORK, July 8,

IQIt. Price Five Cents.

Commencement:

OR,

THE LAST WEEK AT YALE.

 

By BURT L. STANDISH. .

 

CHAPTER I.
‘DECENT AND ‘STRAIGHT—ALWAYS.,”

“Rot!” growled Morgan Grath contemptuously.
“I’m dead sick of hearing the name Merriwell!”’

He was a chap of medium height, whose square,
muscular shoulders, almost abnormally broad, gave
him a stocky appearance. His face would have been
a pleasant one but for the ill-tempered expression which
had become almost habitual, and was the natural result

of a/disposition which rejoiced in the humiliation of

his fellow students, whether they were friends or foes.

It had not always been this way. When he first
appeared at New Haven three years ago he had been
very much like the ordinary run of fellows—bright,
alert, ambitious, and eagerly enthusiastic at the open-
ing up before him of this wonderful new life.

His temper was hot, to be sure, and at home he
had had little schooling in self-control, which was un-
fortunate, since that failing was probably what started

him on the downward path.

He made the freshman eleven easily, for football
was his specialty, and he knew the game with a re-

markable thoroughness. But frequent fierce flare-ups
on the gridiron caused him to be set down as unreliable
and not to be depended on. A final fracas, which re-
sulted in the loss of an important game, led him to be
promptly dropped from the team.

From that point it was not difficult to trace his de-
velopment into a chronic grouch. At the very start he
had got in with a. crowd of soreheads, and before long
he was leading them by a neck. His sneers and caustic
comments on every one in the least successful were
applauded by them as extremely witty, and caused him
to develop that faculty to an abnormal degree.

He thought he was showing evidence of a brilliant
mind, whereas in reality it was but the expression
ofan angry, jealous spirit.

And so it went on with the passing years. One by
one old friends and acquairitances were driven from
him by his bitter, sarcastic tongue, until at last there
remained only the little group whose friendship he
would have been better without. Cheap sports, they
were, mostly; fellows who wasted their lives drinking
and gambling and playing the races, under the i impres-~

  
TIP: FOP

sion that thus they showed themselves to be men.
About one of Grath’s principal cronies, Dallas Baker,
there were persistent rumors on the pasnpus as 9 a
decided crookedness in his behavior, and Grath him-
self more than suspected the truth of them.

On several occasions he had had reason to know that
the fellow was quite lacking in moral stamina, oa
he somehow did not care. It was the inevitable effect
on a nature such as his of bad company, and ab
than once during the past year Grath had done wanes
without compunction, the very thought of whjch wou
hav i im three years ago.

Oy cad De Merriwell doubtless, with brs ae
tensity than he did any other man at the etch
and yet it was a curious fact that the two ~ oe
been much thrown together, nor had oe - ings
—even disagreements—of any sort with eac 1 at a

Grath sought to convince himself that Merriwe a
a very much overrated man. He mms .
himself that he did—that the famous varsity $e
owed much of his success and eR AOR HT aR popularity
to bluff. One of the junior’s favorite mental as
ments—when ‘he stopped to argue with himself : a .
was that he was one of the few to really see t ok
this bluff, and, therefore, that a natural ao at
deception ‘caused him to ea! at a fellow x om other

s enough to admire.
ne cake aan he even realized that i an-
_tagonism was the result of blind, unreasoning jea fade
His own point of view was fostered eer
by his associates, particularly Baker, unti . reac .
a point when he found it impossible even Fe es
any degree of comfort to praise of the ee 2 . ed. ;

He had heard: not a little of it to-day as . bey
through the streets of New Haven, ee - .
and excitement of commencement week. a a
his disgruntled mind that every one he ee : g
ing the fellow’s praises in one way ae. a

“Makes me sick at the eigen! e wih —
slouching slowly along the sidewalk. oo Se
he was the eighth wonder of the world t ahi oF
4 idiots talk. I'd like to see him lose 8 ei J
morrow. They wouldn’t be crazy about ah i a
, ‘A moment later he was passing a private ve ;
Prospect Street when the door was flung ig bi :

: tall, slim, curly-headed chap rage down Rae
: “Jack,” he called excitedly—‘‘Jack Diamond! By

Vine great sporn hoon! Oh, you know what I mean—

Ts ihe great horn spoon! Christmas’
ee eC es
_.. Sulkily Grath watched him leap at a man :

rf

I’m glad to see

-- anod

Te Ee epee eT mT gE Tremere R ee ee

WEEKLY,

at the bottom of the Steps, and fairly lift him off

ground in the enthusiasm of his greeting.
“Harry Rattleton!”
less pleasure,

.

exclaimed the other, with ‘

but not quite so much vehent a
certainly am glad to see you, old fellow. How *
have you been here uv?

He was dark and handsome in a refined, cultty

Manner, and spoke with a soft, Southern drawl. ‘
“Since Saturday,” grinned the fellow called Rat |

ton. “Great bunch came up on the train togethe
Frank ‘ .

“What!” interry
“Frank here?”

. it.
“Sure? Haven’t you seen him? But of course -
You've only just come. He's the same old Frank, 0M

more so, you make that from tee-——-I mean, take th
from me!’ we

The Virginian’s

pted Diamond, .his face light

x

face
a Curious, faraway look
“He couldn't be
“There isn’t another
the face of the earth.
core.

. : cam
softened and into his eyes Mi)

anything else,” he said ey
fellow like Frank Merriwell 0%
He’s true blue down to the vis
No matter what underhand means.-have wes
used against him, he’s always kept. himself oe
straight, and never done a dirty thing in all his 7
You know that, Harry—and so do i sri
“You bet!" ejaculated Rattleton, “But let's na
stand. here talking. Come On in and see him.
given us his house for headquarters, you know;
we're all to the Mustard |

Grath scowled and turned away, cursing himself § ‘
having waited to listen.

“Another Merriwell te
pose they're all alike.”

And yet, as he turned toward his rooms, for we aie
anything else to do, he found himself thinking; . tt
d, unexpected sort of Wistfulness, over the So a
ern chap’s words. | oe

Never to have don
kept clean and Straigt

he muttered sourly.

| .

€ a dirty thing! Always t0. nee
it—to fight fairly, no mat ae
stone! How would it rom i,

“T Pang shot through him as he loox®
ORL Hie Rae: oy Sekine a flush ©)
d his: face: Then he shrugged ;
cowled angrily. ae

-“T don’t believe it!” he Snapped aloud, “It’s all t@

There isn’t a man Jiy; | .
It's all rot! He's hun
brother does.”

back upon his
Shame darkene
shoulders and s

 
_ the elm-dotted greensward.

TIP. TOP

He hastened on, as if anxious to outstrip his
thoughts, pushing through the laughing, joking
crowds, his sullen face making the~one blot in the
merry throng.

On every side eager, enthusiastic men of any age
from twenty-one to sixty were greeting with boyish
abandon and joy chums they had not seen in years.
In every ‘voice the wonderful, indescribable note of
comradeship sounded above every other emotion, On
every face the mark of friendship—eternal, never-
dying friendship—was written as plainly as if in letters
of fire. .

Men had traveled thousands of miles just to be
present at this reunion—to clasp the hands of com-
rades who would never be forgotten, to tread again the
grass of the campus and hear the soughing of the
wind through the old elms, to renew the youth which
‘seemed at once so far away and yet so near.

Grath hated it all. Why had he been such a fool
as to stay? He could have gone a week ago, as had
the others of his set. Then he would not have felt
this intolerable loneliness, this sense of being out of
everything, of knowing that there was not one soul in
the vast throng who cared whether he lived or died.

He did not stop to reason why. He did not realize
that the answer lay in himself alone. He had had the
chance of making of himself something vastly different
from what he was, and had tossed it aside. Until this
moment he had been perfectly satisfied with his course.
But now, somehow, life suddenly seemed empty,
worthless, wasted.

Hurrying on to the campus at Durfee Hall, he
paused an instant at the sight of an old, old man, who
stood leaning on a stick, his faded eyes gazing over
His face, seamed and
wrinkled like parchment, was set in a look of regret
and sorrow and infinite longing, and as the boy glanced
at him two tears started from the pale blue eyes and
ran slowly down the lined cheeks.

As the old gentleman took out a handkerchief sat

turned to wipe them away, he caught sight of another

figure coming down the walk, and stopped to stare.
The other man was old, too, though rather brisker, in
spite of his great bulk. Grath never forgot the look
of joy which leaped into the tall man’s wrinkled face,

nor the note in his voice, as he tottered forward to J

_ meet his friend.
: “John! he cried. “John! I thought——”

He broke off as their hands met in a firm grasp.
2 “Not a bit of a chuckled the fat man, patting the

oN

things!

WEEKLY. 3

other’s hand. “I’m so much alive that I’m going to
meet you here next year and many years afterward.
But that isn’t the best of it, Harry. George is here,
We three are, about all that is left of the class
of fifty-five.”’
“George!” gasped the other. ‘Where is he?”
The plump old man took his arm, and off they went,
talking eagerly together, their sticks tapping

too.

in unison
on the stone walk.

Grath turned the other way and almost ran until he
reached the steps of Vanderbilt.

The class of fifty-five! He shuddered. Those men
had been away from New Haven for nearly sixty
years, and yet they met with every bit of eager en-
thusiasm as if they had been gone only ten. Who
was there that in six years, let alone sixty, would clasp
his hand as those two patriarchs had ddéne? Who
would care whether he ever came back or not? Who
was there to give him so much as a passing thought?

“I don’t care,”’ he tried to tell himself, as he slowly
mounted the stairs. “I wouldn’t come back, anyhow.
I hate the place!”

And yet he knew that he did care. He knew that,
at this moment, he would have given much could he
have looked forward with certainty to even one real
friend to greet him years from now. And for the
first time he began to wonder whether his course had
Dae

“T’ve had a good enough time, ta the same,’
said aloud.

But in his heart he was wishing he had ibe those
friends of his freshman year, wishing that he had not
driven them away deliberately, by cleaving to the false
and tossing aside the true. Wishing—oh, so many
But most of all he wished, wistfully, hope- —
lessly, that he might have it said of him just once:
“Through everything he has kept himself clean and
straight, and never done a dirty thing.”

' he

CHAPTER: 17
THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

There is no moment in the life of a college man so
equally fraught with joy and regret as the week of —
commencement.
predominates, and only for the fact that so many
activities are crowded into that short space, the period
would lack much of its surface gayety and mirth.

Every man naturally looks forward to the time when

he shall go out into the world to fight and struggle oa

 

In most cases it is the regret which,
4 TIP TOP

and conquer for himself. ‘This is particularly notice-
able in the freshman, who is often impatient at the
thought of four long years intervening between him-
self and perfect freedom: He longs for the time whe:
there shall be no tutors or professors to order him
about, no superior sophomores to haze him, to make
him fetch and carry, or to regulate his conduct and
manners with a ruthless hand.

He does not khow what a hard, cold, lonesome place
that big outside world is. It looks so desirable and
fascinating when viewed through the haze of distance,
How can he possibly realize that there will come a day
he would readily give everything he possessed to be
an undergraduate again for just twenty-four hours?
To teach him that lesson usually takes about a month
of strenuous hustling among people who do not care
enough about him to say sarcastic things or call him
by a nickname he loathes. 3

But as the day of emancipation draws near he begins
to realize a little of what he is leaving behind. He
begins to wish he could stop the hand of time, or push
it back a little. But he never can. The days fly along
at incredible speed, and when that last precious week
comes, bringing with it “the end” written in so many
different hands, he finds his throat has a chronic tend-

ency to lumpiness, and blesses the man whose fore-.

thought crowded so many things into the short space
that a fellow has brief time left to think.
Dick Merriwell was no exception to the general rule.

Perhaps, on account of his sensitive nature and the

intense, abiding love he had. for Yale, he felt the ap-
proaching parting rather more than did the ordinary
“type of individual. .
The day had been especially hard, bringing, as it did,
the formal class-day exercises, which officially severed
him from the undergraduate body. He had received
his degree, and was very proud and happy over it, but
that did not prevent him from being a little sorry
that another senior class had been pushed out into the
cold. eae
_ There was no actual laments from any quarter, how-
ever. ‘After the exercises were over, the remainder of
the afternoon was devoted to painting the town red
in a mild sort of way, but it might have been observed
that the enthusiasm of the newly liberated seniors was
a trifle too feverish to-be wholly genuine. (a
seg, Toward dinner time a crowd of them, with Merri-
well in the center, were singing their way raucously

es across the campus, when a sharp, familiar’ voice pene-

trated to Dick’s ears above the din:
“Mr, Merriwell!”

1 fi,

breath away,

Sree ee

WEEKLY.

Glancing hurriedly around, the varsity pitche
somewhat surprised to see the tall, spare form of Pf
_tessor Salney, one of the crankiest, most crabbed, Pf
hated members of the faculty, Binading to one sid
the walk, looking fixedly in his direction:
Go ahead, fellows.
self from tl

’ he said, hastily detaching 7”
le group. “T’'ll catch up with you.”
As he approached the professor he was favored W
a glance of quite the usual grim severity through
gold-rimmed glasses, which made him wonder for
aes What in the world was up. Then he realiZ
tn nome slight relief that his diploma was S4#@
is Toom and’ that‘ he had nothing to fear from
oe who made life more or less ‘of a burden to ti
mncetgtaduates with whom he had to do. |
an you call me, professor?” Dick asked quiely:
o cee Man answered shortly. ee
eit ee ae if not knowing just how t0 F
liberately acy coo On his glasses, polished UNERR
“yf y, and replaced them on his hawklike ™ ap
a Pig leaving town to-morrow, Mr. Merriwell, ;
ength. “It is scarcely likely that I shall

you again, so I thought | by
cae ugh od-by
you now,” ght I had better say go oan
With eee : ‘ "i ,
Never ee Dick suppressed a gasp of surpt
done suc] : memory of man had Professor sa:
in the cae eta ae, rarely even spoke to a StUS™
a. r eet, and, as for singling one out to say g
Y to him, it was dnheard of ee
“Vou'r As ay ae ‘ | ‘ )
the othe x very good, sir,” Dick stammered, f°
gk ets hand and Pressing it heartily. : “
aoe a pleasant summer.”
ank 9)
a mae Commented the other dryly. .
shall, It is rather more to the point

me to wish oer ne
which yx You every possible success in the life
you are entering ” + aS

Dick drew his breath sud
observed that there Was’ |
sor’s Piercing eyes mor
other student had ever

4
,

denly, and for the first
an expression in the

Tis
.. * Should like to add, Mr. Merriwell,” the othet

€ nearly friendly than he of i
seen there. It took Merriws ts, |

—————— eee ——

te

ee

 
Se ar een et adr ea RIT ee ea

TIP TOP

was so totally unexpected and so absolutely genuine
‘that for a moment he was floored. When he found his
voice it was low and a little uneven.
“T—-thank you, sir,” he stammered.
me—much better than—I really am.”
“T think not,” returned the older man dryly. “I
meant quite what I said. Good-by again, and good
luck.”
When he had gone Merriwell stood still in the middle
of the sidewalk, staring after the tall, gaunt figure.
“Well, I'll be hanged!” he muttered at length. ‘To
think of his saying that! And all the time I’ve thought
him down on me to beat the cars.”

“VY ou—make

His color was still a little high when he joined those
of the group who remained—most of them had dis-

persed for dinner—near the entrance to Durfee.
“Well, pard,” grinned Buckhart, Dick’s Texas chum,
“what did old Grouchy want with you? Telling you
how fond he was of you, I opine?”

Merriwell smiled at the ,unconscious closeness of
Brad’s guess.

“He wanted to say good-by,” he explained.

“What?” gasped the Texan.

9)

“Quit your kidding,
varsity captain.

admonished Jim Graham, the

“Yes, I have a full-sized picture of Grouchy saying
good-by to any one,” added Eric Fitzgerald, from his
‘seat on the steps. ‘“‘What did he really want?”

Dick shrugged his shoulders.
“Just what I told you,” he smiled. “You don’t seem
to believe me.”

“Can you blame us?” queried Graham.

- “Well, I don’t know as I can.
lows, that’s really all he called me back for.”

“All?” cried Fitzgerald. “Well, if you're telling
the truth—and I can’t say I’ve caught you in a lie yet,
Richard—you've pulled a prize that nobody else ever
drew around these diggings. Think of Grouchy saying

good-by! Gee! Maybe the old flint’s' warming up in

his advancing age.”

The comments which thereupon arose concerning the
personality of Professor Salney were distinctly more
forcible than polite, but Dick did not join in them. Up
_ to a moment before he had held much the same opin-

re ions, but now he could not forget the look of friend-
oe ‘liness in the old man’s eyes, nor the tone of earnest-
ness in his voice when he made that little speech, which
evidently came hard from lack of practice, and of
ae : which Metriwell could not help feeling decidedly proud.

But, honestly, fel-

WEEKLY.

CHAPTER IIL

PB GRE A Tear Dp Ay.

Bright-eyed, with the flush of excitement coming and
going in her charming face, June Arlington sat im-
patiently on the edge of her seat for-the last half hour
of the tiresome journey from New York. to New
Haven. When at length the train rumbled over the
West River Bridge and houses began to appear thickly
on either side, she gave a sigh of relief and sprang
to her feet.

“Come on,
at last, thank goodness!”

“What's your hurry, sis?”
slyly. “You can't get off before the train stops.”

“That's just like a man,” retorted Doris Templeton,
who had lost no time in following her friend into the
aisle. “Of course we can’t, but there’s no harm get-
ting to the door ahead of this crowd. Don’t be ab-
surd, Chet.”

“The idea!” sniffed June. “After the way we
waited and waited for you, and lost two trains, and
probably missed oceans of fun. I spent seventy-five
cents on telegrams, too.. The best thing you can do is
to come along and say nothing.”

Evidently Chester decided that dsereian was best

Doris,’ she said eagerly. ‘We're here

smiled Chester Arlington

where two slightly irritated, wholly impatient damsels

were concerned ; so he picked up the bags and followed
them the length of the Pullman'to the front platform.
“IT wonder if he'll be at the station to meet us,”
Doris remarked presently, in a voice she tried to make
casual, not with entire success, however. ;
June turned from where she had been straightening
her hat before an absurdly narrow mirror. |

“Of course he will. I wired him we really would
be on this train, you know.”

The color deepened in Doris’ piquant face.

“I meant Hal;”’ she explained.

June shrugged her shoulders.
terested in Hal Darrell.

“I should think he would,” she returned, glancing
again at the glass to»make sure everything was all
right. ‘It’s plain to be seen that a man designed this
car. I never saw such a perfectly idiotic mirror in my
life. You have to look at yourself a section at a time.”

“Stop prinking, sis,”
brotherly license.
minute.”

She was not in-

“You'll have your hair down ina |

she retorted.

“I should if I |
You're in disgrace, sir, and you’ tbe
Oh, here we are { a

“I’m not prinking,”
wanted to, though.
better keep still.

 

admonished Chester, with
Tie FOP

Two minutes later the train rolled into the station
‘and stopped. The motion had scarcely ceased before
Chester swung himself to the ground and turned to

help the girls down.

They did not need his assistance, however. Almost |

as soon as he, they were off the bottom step and mak-
ing straight toward the two men whose faces they had
singled out from the crowd.

“June!” exclaimed Dick Merriwell, as he clasped the
girl's hands and held them. ,

“Dick! she returned, with equal eagerness.

For a moment that was all they said, but a very elo-
quent look passed between them, which was more ex-
pressive than words. The color deepened in June’s face.
and then she laughed happily. |

“Oh, I’m so thankful to be here at last!’ she ex-
claimed. ‘Did you think we were never coming?”
~ Dick smiled.

“TI was beginning to get a bit worried,” he acknowl-
edged.

“Tt was all Chet’s fault,” she declared. “We waited
hours and hours for him in the station, and had just
about decided to come without him, when he appeared
with the story of some tiresome business having kept
him.”

-“That’s right,” laughed Chester, coming up. “Soak
rhe good and hard, sis. Put it there, old fellow. Aw-
fully glad to see you. I’m all to blame, Dick. But it
really couldn't be helped. One of the fellows in the
office is sick, and, of course, a bunch of things turned
up this morning that simply had to be looked after.)

“T do hope we haven’t missed anything,” the girl
putineagerly. 2, : 3

“Nothing much,’ Merriwell answered. “But we
haven't got a lot of time to waste before the parade
forms. Well, Doris, how are you. Got time to shake
hands?” 2

Doris, who had been occupied, to the exclusion of

veverything else, with Hal Darrell, took the hand he

held out to her. .
“Of course I have,” she laughed. “Up to now there
-hasn’t been any chance, though. You've been some-
what absdrbed.”

“How about people in glass houses?” chuckled Mer-
_ riwell, picking up one of the bags. “Well, let's get

along. The*car’s here, and we'd better go straight to
the campus. Haven't time to stop at the hotel, but’ we

ean leave your truck in our tooms and take it over
ee atterward.”

. ‘Laughing and joking, they hastened out to the car
and sprang into it, June taking the seat ‘beside Dick.

_ the dickens foz Yq

REA Cea SES specie ots

-

WEEKLY,

Ten minutes later they
behind Durfee H
pus.

Already the big open space was filled with men.

all ages and in every conceivable costume. The. :
resounded with the buzz of talk punctuated almos
continually by bursts of fnuiier which thrilled th
us devoted Yale girls to the ede soul. . | iv
Ne a eae I don’t know what to do,” declared
ns. “isn't it wonderful, June?” :
ie Sottiehow she could not speak ie
be for bes st ae ae Dick‘and how hard a eh
which someti rey all this. In that odd, intuitive Way
thoughts, and . happens, he seemed to divine ee
say held it é a they Went upstairs, he found her ham
reacts * an Instant before letting it fall. :
< the girls but a moment to pin on the two hugt

bun :
ma x violets which were waiting for them. :
‘ OYS ;
as this.”’ YS got hold of them as late in the seasol

MY.

alighted with equal hast:
all, and hurried through to the ca

ee ’
I haven't seen a
“We've got 4
smiled.

violet in weeks,” added Doris: ‘

Special preserve of them,” DIC
your flags. You've got to root lik
le to-day, girls. We just won the
skin of our teeth, and Harvard }
or this one,” |

ave any voice left when it’s ovel

T always get excited and scream my

‘6
Here are

first game by the
sure to fight hard {
“We shan’t h
Doris laughed,
Self speechless.”
Vhey had scarce]
before a tall, lithe,

Wavy-
throug! y

ugh the crowd and

Arlington's hand
wa th o ss Sie ig G
ie Seo Ae a did not deceive me,” he drawled j
ae cae : alse, he Went on, sighing deeply as Bi
bon the violets and blue flags. “Flaunting *

whole hotbed of :
face.” 1 these traitorous flowers in my vey

It was Dale

the Harvard Se old friend, and pitcher of

“Don’t be ridictio

you didn’t expect
: me to wear ions?”
No. matter what my h oe
Spark fair returned :
unless—_”

us, Dale,” June laughed. © «Surely

ee
1 _ hopes might have beetl;
ugubriously, “they are blasted 20

He’ lu { "9 ; > Ap
plucked the ‘rimson carnation (ies ide putto™
ut to her, : Fe

 
TIP TOP

“T couldn't think of it,” she said firmly. “I should
be the traitor then.”

“Thrown down,’ Sparkfair murmured sadly.
“Ground under the despotic heel of favoritism. Are
you adamant, too, Miss T empleton?’’

“Quite,” Doris answered smilingly.
promised to lose my voice rooting for Yale.”

The Harvard man restored the despised flower to
his buttonhole and sighed.

“Lve™ just

“Tis ever thus,” hé murmured. “Always too late.
Well, Richard, how are you?”

“Extremely fit, thank you,” Dick answered, taking
Dale’s proffered hand. “I was wondering how long
you'd be noticing my presence. I hope you're ready
to be licked out of your boots.”

“Beware, my son,” cautioned Sparkfair, more
briskly, “lest, in counting your chickens before they're
hatched, you get it where the hen getteth the axe,”
- Merriwell chuckled.

“Think you've got a sure thing, do you?” he ban-
tered. :

“My native modesty prevents any comparison of
twirlers,” the Harvard man returned. -“Self-praise is
‘repugnant to me—also unnecessary. But as for the
‘rest-of the team, if you have ever seen in one place
‘such an aggregation of supreme talent, I'll Well,
well, if here isn’t our ramping Texas maverick!” ©

He broke off to greet Buckhart, who appeared at
that moment, pushing through the crowd. Then, as
“the Texan turned toward the girls, Sparkfair drew

‘hack to Dick’s side, his airy, bantering manner quite:

gone. |

t

CHAPTER IV.
“~HE PARADE STARTS.

-. “Jack’s just told me about the way Brad tried to
reform him,” he remarked significantly.
Dick smiled. :
“Tt was awfully funny,” he chuckled, “and couldn't
have come out better.” Kee
mk “So I gather. But this Marshall that the kid was
| crazy about seems not to have shown up very well.”
om “#Not very,” Merriwell agreed briefly.
“And seeing him in his true colors was what brought
e the boy to a realizing sense of how foolish he'd been.
- Do you know, Richard, I've a sneaking suspicion that
you maneuvered from the very first to bring just that

result about.” |

WEEKLY.

Dick laughed.

“What does it matter?” he asked. “The youngster
is on the right road now. The means by which it
came about isn’t very important.”

Sparkfair eyed him for a moment in silence,

“Perhaps not,” he murmured. “But I shan’t forget
what you've done in a hurry, Dick. It has meant
everything to the kid—and to me.”

There was a brief pause, and then he went on in a
brisker tone:

“By the way, what are you going to do next week?”

Dick hesitated. He had not given much thought
to what was going to happen after this was all over.

“Not going to rush instantly into the busy marts
of trade, I trust?’’ pursued Sparkfair. “Surely you'll
take a vacation first?”

“T haven’t planned much what to do,” Merriwell ex-
plained. “I don’t feel as if I ought to waste any time
after taking a year more here than I expected. [
want to get busy at something soon. Just what. it'll
be I don’t know. I'll have to talk it over with Frank.
He’s here, you know; but I haven’t had a chance: to
see much of him so far.”

“Well, the pater wants you to come down to our
place on Long Island for a week, at least, and as mucl
longer as you can stop,” Dale smiled. “I. was told
that if I didn’t bring Merriwell and his chum, Buck-
hart, with me, I needn’t show up myself.”

“That’s awfully nice of him,” Dick said quickly. “I'd
like to come, and so would Brad, I’m sure. Do you
have to know right away?”

“No; but surely you can make it. You really must, 3
for I have another inducement you couldn’t possibly -
resist.”

His manner was mysterious, and Dick smiled.

“What is it?” he asked. “Though another one isn’t
necessary.” :
“I’m going to keep that-a surprise,” the Harvard
man. grinned.
can tell you. Well, put it up to Frank as soon as you
get the chance, and let me know. By Jove! They're a
starting, aren't they? We don’t want to miss any of
this show.” : ; in ah a
He was right. The various classes were beginning _|
to form in marching order; bands were tuning up,
and banners waving. | | Nhe fg ees
“Better get ip on the steps, girls,’’ Dick said pres- e
ently, as the crowd surged thicker and closer around
them. “You can see everything from there.” .

 

“It’s something pretty nice, though, | a
tik; TOP

They managed to find places on - ae —
‘filled steps, from which they got a > ae
proceedings. The wide, open acon . Mei
olor and movement, for every class up . ne ees
de raduation wore costumes which ranged
ok os, of a circus clown to that of medieval
r garb, :
a signe: ead banner and a brass band,
4: Ane ‘Guariad up in order of ee ce
and laughter, the yells, ne and sounding
din.
Ek Oe. eke banked against the buildings,
Bolts the steps, and filling every window, were the
risi and undergraduates, and the light, summer
es of the girls, their eager faces and bright eyes,
ass another little touch to the Te ee weed
Standing close beside June, Dick watche : ae
thrill which the wonderful scene had never ; e
bring. He had seen this commencement ae : .
enough before, but perhaps he ae pane an
i an interest or so fu
fa oat aed the end of so many things, is
could never again watch it as he was ee os oe
next time he would be a part of it, a ‘ ; ae
would always look forward to that wit Fee
pation, he knew enough of = to realize how
D is point of view then. ro
; CRORE which now seemed of o Maite a8
portance would vanish from his memory 4 e ee
spent in that struggle out in the world. ; : 2 oe
help changing. It was the law of life. And though <

i 4
‘little later he ‘would welcome the plunge into the world,

which every one must take, just at this ee a
felt that he was losing Pied Ns precious wk

ever wholly replace. es
Saale simply standing at the parting of the vise
He was taking leave of boyhood, Cue ee :
sotrows, which seem at the moment - = s oa
soon forgotten. He was leaving behinc se a
_ less irresponsibility, the blithesome ae en es
thusiasm which only boyhood knows. } = gate
perhaps, a little of that wonderful spir

uth. And, though no one wants to stay a boy always,
youth. .

the transition to manhood is always a little hard at
first.
Though Merriwell did not know it, there stood

3 ir bbed
i a lose that their shoulders ru
sai ctly behind him, so c
tee ei ci ois, a fellow compared with whose state

of mind Dick’s was one of blissful. contentment.
of min

| Morgan Grath was miserable. Why he had come: -

| “he did not know. He would have been much happier
he . a :

eRe ST TE ERE ao

WEEKLY,

anywhere but here,

and yet he stayed, animated
the irresistible fascin

ation of the scene. 4
He had been watching Merriwell and his Oe
ions with feelings of the most bitter envy. nei
seemed to be having such a good time, with aie
laughing and jesting, while he had never beer a ,
lonely in all his life. rr
He tried to tell himself that he did not care, that
hated the very sight of the varsity pitcher, and "I
sick of seeing him throw on “lugs” the way he Ws
doing ; but the process was not entirely satisfacto

onan ee
This time he could not quite make himself behey

what he Wished to believe,

hind Dick, he fell to studying the set of the bo
muscular shoulders, the upright carriage of the are 5
some head, the firm set of mouth and thin, the healthy _
golden brown of the skin, under which’ red bloe
glowed dully.

At last he found himself w

‘
ondering what it wou®
have been like to hav

How

e had this man for a friend.

turn, and employing
honorable and otherw
fellow whom every on

Suddenly he cay
angry frown. ‘
“Rot 4 he thought, yanking his cap over his eye:
“Tm getting dotty. This
les! Iw

; dis;
€very means in his power ; ‘Ge
ise, to thwart and humiliate 3
€ else admired?

; an
ght himself up with a jerk and 4 |

ish to thunder |

'd never stayed over!”
The parade had fo

tary
tmed. There was a mome#
Pause, and’ then, with a deafening flare of musi¢
began the slow pro

§Tess around the campus, prep ad
tory to the march out to the athletic field. The class

n, the dldest coming first and ee
up the rear, with all sorts of ‘—
and impromptu by-play. sr
had ceased their chatter to
Festedly, and of a sudden Merriw®
felt the git] at-his side catch his ang, oh
“Oh, Dick!” She gasped. Nx os
He/did not ask what was the matter. Somehow, he
seemed to know’ intuitively that her eyes were fixe

with his upon the three old figures which headed th
long line of mar]

has : ight!
ung men, Their arms were tight

youngest, bringing
tastic sidestepping

The spectators
the procession inte

ae

And presently, standing wedged into the crowd D& |

$3 Bins . wile
; place is giving me the W* —

van
late

 
Be:
;
We
|
+
:
.
q

Tie POP

linked, and, though they marched with heads erect and
a pitiful attempt at briskness, their progress was really
very slow. |

As they came opposite the steps of Durfee the eyes
of two of them were moist, while the thin lips of the
third quivered a little at the corners. It was as if
they were thinking~of those many other comrades who,
in the years gone by, had walked with them under
that banner, and the girl suddenly pressed her face
against Dick’s sleeve.

“T can’t—bear it,” she whispered brokenly. ““They—
look so—lonely.”’

Merriwell hastily swallowed the lump which had
risen in his own throat and turned impulsively to the
crowd around him.

“Come, fellows,” he cried, “give a yell for fifty-
five. A good one, now. One, two, three!”

The response was instant. Every one joined in with
a will, and, as the echoes of the deep, booming cheer
died away, the three old men lifted their hats in quick
response, the stout one smiling. Then they passed on,

“T’m so glad you did that,” June said in a low voice.
“T’ll think of them smiling, not the way they looked
before.”

“Tt’s better to have three than just one,’ Dick com-
mented. “Two years ago the procession was headed
by one man. I think he graduated in fifty-one. It
pretty near broke me up.”

_“T should think it might have.
Oh! here come the men in costume!
those Arabs, will you?’

Three’s bad enough.
Just look at

CHAPTER V.
DELIRIOUS THOUSANDS.

On the other side of Morgan Grath, Doris Templeton

and Hal Darrell stood close together.

“Isn’t he splendid!’ whispered the girl, as Dick
started the cheer for the oldest class. “He away

seems to do the right thing at the right moment,”

Darrell grinned.

“Tf you’re trying to make me jealous, it won't work,”
be bantered. “I used to be, all right, and it lead me
into contemptible things that I hate ‘to think of now.
But Dick never even thought of trying to pay me back
in my,own coin. Instead, he went to the other ex-

' treme,. and insisted on helping me out when I was

trying my best to injure him. He’s a corking fellow

_ and the best friend I’ve got.”

WEEKLY.

Low as their voices were, Grath heard them and
writhed inwardly. It seemed as if every one was
banded together to sing the praises of this one man.
They came from every side and from the most unex-
pected quarters, and he must listen whether he wanted
He had a wild impulse to dash through
the crowd and get away somewhere—anywhere, so
long as he would not be forced to hear the things
which cut him to the very quick and made him so
miserable. And yet he did not stir. He held his
place, wishing for the thousandth time that he had
not been such a fool as to put himself into this posi-
tion,

“There’s Frank!’ cried June suddenly, as a class
dressed as cowboys swept past them.

She waved her handkerchief, and Frank, from the
midst of the jolly crowd, responded by swinging his
hat around his head and giving vent to a real Western
yell, which was caught up by his companions with a
vehemence that almost made the windows rattle.

Merry. was having the time of his life. Surrounded
by so many of his old-time college mates—Brow ning,
Bart Hodge, Diamond, the volatile Rattleton, who had
scarcely been able to get an exclamation straight since
breakfast time, and quantities of. others—he could
almost believe that inexorable Father Time had re-
traced his steps. Dignity and repose had yanished
from the moment of setting foot in New Haven.
Horseplay and all sorts of absurd pranks were entered
into by everybody, with a relish and boyish abandon
which only a.college commencement can ever bring
about.

The temporary headquarters of the class on Prospect
Street became almost at once the most popular spot in
New.Haven. A big percentage of the old class were
back for the occasion, but it soon became apparent
that the visitors who crowded the place at all hours,
dropping in constantly from breakfast time on, came,
almost to a man, for the purpose of shaking hands and
having a chat with Frank Merriwell.

to or not.

Fellows who had been at college when he had, but
whom he had always supposed disliked him, greeted
him as old friends. Men he had never seen before—
graduates, some of them, of as many years’ standing
as he had Jived—stopped him on the street to shake
hands.with hfm. Callow freshmen, trailing bashfully
behind some alumnus brother, would greet him with
embarrassment when introduced, and then sit tongue-
tied, but devouring him with eager, enthusiastic eyes. —

Frank could not help being deeply affected = it and
ee eee:

 
’

“th tad

‘Somehow. they did not ,care, ; ‘
: good-natured crowd, that nobody minded a little dis-
‘comfort. In fact, it was rather pleasamt than other-

pe TIP TOP

“T had no idea so many fellows would remember
me,’ he said to Harry Rattleton. “After all these
years, you'd have thought they’d completely forget.”

Looks that way, doesn’t it?’ commented Rattleton
sarcastically. ‘“Moley hoses—I mean, holy Moses!
Why, they’re wearing a path on the carpets trailing in
here from morning till night, and asking where Frank
Merriwell is. J don’t see any such rush for the rest
of us.”

“T suppose that’s on account of Dick,” Frank com-
mented, ‘“‘He’s been keeping the name somewhat be-
fore the public since he came to New Haven.”

“Blay blueses!”” he sputtered. “Oh, I mean blue
blazes! You nalk tutty. Dash it all! Talk nutty, I
mean. Do they come here asking for Dick? No, of
course they don’t. Dick’s a nice boy, but there’s no

99
comparison between the two of you.

Frank shrugged his shoulders.

“You're prejudiced, Harry,’ he smiled. ‘“That’s

aaoee
what’s the matter with you.

“Am I?” snapped Rattleton, scowling fiercely. ‘TI

don’t think so, and, what’s more, Mr. Smarty, I'll show
you before the week is out that [ know what I’m

_ talking about.”

Merry had quite forgotten his words as he marched
past the front of Durfee. He had forgotten almost
everything except the fact that he was back with the

old bunch on the old campus, which was, after all, like

no other place in the whole world. And as he waved

_ his hat and yelled himself hoarse in sheer, joyous
‘abandon, he felt as if he had not been so happy in

years. |

-_ “We'll have to light out now,” Dick said, the next
moment. “It’s going to be a job getting through the

oy Lerowd to the grounds, and the longer we wait the

harder it will be. Come on, let’s make a break before

the mob starts.”

Taking June’s arm, he descended the steps and
started for the street, followed closely by Darrell and
- Doris. Buckhart and Chester Arlington brought up
eee ‘the rear, Sparkfair having left them five minutes or

( so before. | Ten UN
p They were’ shoyed and pushed about, and the girls

’ hats soon became set at any angle hut the right one.

It was such a jolly,

wise, and only added to the excitement of the day.
Mt last the car was reached, and they crowded in
na eer off. It was fortunate that they started when

PPh oR rah

WEEKLY.
they did. A few minutes later would have found thet
helpless in the midst of the great crowd which pr
ently swarmed out of the campus and flowéd do¥
Chapel Street, intent on getting to the field. Bs
As it was, their progress was very slow, for the
Wide street was lined from curb to curb with vehicles
of every conceivable description, save trolley cars,
Which had stopped tunning for the time being. PeoP
on foot crowded the sidewalks, overflowing into”

Street amid the carriages and motor cars. Everywheft »
were flowers and flags and bright colors. Every ie :

was full of eager, smilin
sounded with jest and |
and catcalls,

“Guess we'll hay
be there in time to
some time of extreme]

“Try George Street,”
on the running board.

“I'm going to.”

At the first ©pportunity Dick swerved the car ov
a side street, and |
paralleled Chapel,

Toom, and they we;

struck Derby Avenue.
condition of that

the curb.

g expectation. The air

€ to get out of this if we want

dress,” Merriwell commented, after
y slow crawling. sie io

Brad suggested from his per’

‘It’s up to ys to wal
commented. “We'll Ke
through.” |

k the rest of the way, I
all day trying to get the i

Evidently , man

y others had been like-minded, fo
the street w

as lined with. cars left there while ther
owners went the rest of the way on foot. oF
The Party hastily Scrambled out, and ten minute
later they reached the entrance ne squeezed throug
into the field, The seats Dick had secured were fin
ae almost, directly back of the home plate, and th
girls expressed their pleasure as they settled down witl
Chester, “Aa
‘“ ; ; SG ae
What's the good of being on the varsity if Y°
can't get good seats for your friends?” Dick smileé

“Wellj we'll h
7. ave to leave you, We're late now.
you when it’s Over,”

We'll root like everything,” Turis called after 2:

Of course we will” echoed Doris, “And I’m Pe
fectly sure you'll win.” : . Lee

 

: d cheers:
aughter, with yells and che

~ ten  e er FH
TIP TOP WEEKLY;

“It’s twice as interesting as it was last year,” June
burst out
“Isn’t it?” Doris agreed. “I’m so excited I can’t
keep still) Oh, I do hope we win. Wouldn't it be
perfectly awful if Harvard should get the game?”
“They won't,” June retorted, with conviction.

Chester said nothing, but the expression of his face
was extremely significant.

Faster and faster came the crowd, pouring into the
field and seeking their places with frantic haste, that
they might not lose anything of the spectacle. With
extraordinary rapidity the stands filled, and the two
girls were soon busy waving at friends who appeared
on all sides.

One-half of the big central stand had been given over
to the Harvard adherents, and as the crowd arrived
it swiftly became a great mass of glowing crimson.
Every girl wore a bunch of roses or carnations, ‘and
innumerable crimson flags waved and fluttered over the
_Whole expanse, in opposition to the solid bank of blue
on the other side.

Now came a crowd of undergraduates from both
colleges, piling into’ the cheering sections with much
laughter and horseplay. Below them the cheer leaders
- got busy with their megaphones, and presently thun-
dering, inspiring bursts of sound rolled across the field.

“They're coming!” suddenly exclaimed Doris. “T
hear the bands.”

She was right. Faintly at first, sometimes drowned
altogether by the noise within the enclosure, came the
martial strains of the many brass bands. Louder they
sounded and louder still, until at last the cheers ceased
and the great audience turned their eyes as one indi-
vidual expectantly toward the gates.

_ At last these were flung open and the ‘head of the
procession filed “into the field. It had scarcely. ap-
peared when the bands ceased playing for an instant,
and then burst out with concentrated volume in the
college air so dear to every Yale man’s heart—‘Boola.”

Without pause or hesitation those in the stand took
up the words:

“Well, here we are! well, here we are!
Just watch us rolling up a score.

We'll leave poor Harvard behind so far,
They won’t want to play us any more.

‘We'll roll the score so very high,

That you will Niear them sigh,
Well-a, Boola, Boo, Boola, Boo-la, Boo.”

/

The effect of that vast multitude singing together,
putting ‘into their ‘voices their very hearts and souls,

was indescribable. It made a queer shiver run up and
down one’s spine and brought a bright spot of color
to the cheeks of the two girls, who sat there clutching
their flags and singing with all their might.

The procession moved on about the field, the bands
clashed, the thousands of voices took up-the second
verse :

“Now ain’t it a shame, now ain’t it a shame,
To do fair Harvard up so bad?

We've done it before, we'll do it once more,
-And they'll feel very, very sad.

We'll roll the score so ‘very high,

That you will hear them sigh,
Well-a, Boola, Boo, Boola, Boo-la, Boo.”

The thunder of voices ceased, and with it the tense
feeling. The reunion men reached the stand set apart
for them, and; breaking ranks, scrambled for seats,
The Harvard spectators raised their voices in “Fair
Harvard,” and sang it to the end with vast enthusi-
asm,

Then the cheering began again, and each section
did its best to drown the other out. The bands, gath-
ered below the reunion stand, broke out in a lively
air. The spectators, relaxing, settled back in their
seats with a buzz of talk and comment, but with fre-
quent expectant glances toward the track house.

The preliminaries were over. The overture was fin-
ished to its last, drawn-out note. Another moment,
and the curtain would rise upon the stage set to the
smallest detail for the drama which bade fair to be
one of the most interesting and exciting ever played
upon those boards.

CHAPTER VI.
A BAD BEGINNING.

Morgan Grath had managed to secure a seat’ well
back in the stand opposite the reunion men. He had
left the campus soon after Merriwell’s party, and at

first had determined to pack his bag and take the ear-

liest train out of New Haven.
Just what made him change his mind he did not.
know. He had never been possessed of a great amount
of college spirit, and games of any sort, unless he took
part in them himself, did not interest him.
But, somehow, he was not himself to-day.

 

He had

a queer sensation of a struggle going on within him.
He kept wishing vainly that he was different in so
many ways; kept wondering over and over again with
monotonous insistence whether the course he had fcl-
lowed for the past three years had paid. What had he
, TEE oS EOP

got out of it? What might he not now have been had
he made an effort from the beginning to be straight
and decent? . :
The whole morning had been a continual battle be-
tween this newly awakened better nature and the soho
arid conditions of mind his evil ways had caused to
dominate. Had there been any of his cronies about
to bolster him up, the latter would have eee
But they had all departed the week before, ee e
- him for his folly in waiting over for the Pia ie
rot,” as they characterized the commencement exer-
cises. ee
He had not found it senseless. Though the friend-
liness and good fellowship he saw on every side —
him bitterly, there was in it a powerful, irresistible
fascination which kept him enthralled even against his
will. Perhaps it was that which made him drift cc
the jolly crowd pouring out toward the field. oe
there, he resigned himself almost without a struggle
to the inevitable. 7
: The singing of that great crowd gave him a air
’ uncomfortable feeling, such as he had never know n
before. His mind was a strange jumble of mene
longing for he knew not what, and infinite ve
When it was over -he flushed shamefacedly at the reali-
zation that his voice had been added to the mighty
i us. ‘
. the pause which followed he found himself think-

- ing of the words he had heard Hal Darrell say of Dick.
ae Merriwell. He supposed the two had been good

friends from the beginning. They were now, bat ap-
"parently it had not always been thus. Darrell’s con-
‘es duct, according to his own words, had once been mean

eye and contemptible; and yet Merriwell had stuck to him,
as in spite of everything.

Grath sighed. For an instant a thrill of Doe
like hope shot through him, only to i: efguite
despair. - Darrell could scarcely have - ee .

‘and underhanded as he had been. No, it was 3 “ a :
- Though he might grovel in the dust, ee a
never forgive him now; and rightly, too. His conduc
thad been unspeakable and beneath contempt.

A sudden roar of cheering made the junior raise his,

head and glance across the field. From the track house
| 1 compact band of men in blue had emerged and were
‘trotting across the diamond. ,

He eyed them fixedly, and even at that distance he

ad been thinking about. Wistfully he matehed, and
ae eee laiehie d. again. Tt was too late. \

i

very first ball delivered, -

_ Moment later, the Yale

WEEKLY.

A’ second roar, this time from the Crimson stand
announced the appearance of the Harvard team. Grath
sized them up: with an interest which would have a
prised him had he realized it. He was hoping they
they would be defeated. Usually he did not care which
side won, unless he had money up, — . e

With the enthusiastic din stil] ringing in their ears,
the boys in blue spread out for a little preliminary pray
tice, while their rivals, awaiting their turn, swiftly put
half a dozen balls in motion to one side of the diamond.

The teams made an almost equally good impression .
Perhaps the fielding of the home team was a shade”
swifter and snappier, but’ there was really little choice |
between them. Yale had won the first game by a scant
Margin of one Tun, and there were rumors that Spatk
fair, the Harvard twirler, was in even better shape |
to-day than he had been a week ago. a

The excitement Was consequently intense, and as me
hour approached it fo |
tinuous clashing of ¢
rious other outlets.

At last the whist]
boys ceased their
in blue trotted oy

und expression in an almost CO!
a
heers, stamping of feet, and ”

€ sounded, Promptly the Harvard
practice and loped in, while the Pe
{to their places with a springy. stride
which seemed to show quantities of surplus energy:
The Yale cheer burst anew from thousands of throats>
blue pennants fluttered :
spiringly. ;

But as
the plate
smile on

Bogardus, Harvard’s
and stood there,
his face, a dj
multitude, and the air
son banners.

heavy hitter, stepped a
quiet and assured, a sligh
fferent sound swept over th
seemed full of waving oe

forward and tossed a snowy ball, just released from
its wrappings of tinfoil. Dick caught it and rolled !

about a little in his glove, at the same time lookin,
the mound Over carefully, (

He was Perfectly calm and composed, and evident!
determined to take his time. In another moment o
faced the batter and delivered the first ball. |

Bogardus hit it clean
a second, i

It was secured by the
to second, but Bogardus h

center fielder and rete
ad made a safe single off tht

Harvard roared with enthusiasm, and though
crowd cheered tumultous!

yr

 
PLE TUE

their voices lacked something of vim and spontaneity.

_A hit like that at the very start of the game means
much more than one coming later. It puts heart into
the side which makes it, and is apt to be correspond-
ingly discouraging to their opponents, though there

_ May be no reason whatever for it.

_ There was no sign of the latter feeling, however, in
either Merriwell or his slabmates. Dick, quite unflus-
tered, waited for Phillips, another heavy hitter, to toe
the plate. He then sent up a coaxer, but Phillips re-
fused to be coaxed. The second ball was high, but it
seemed to look good to the Harvard shortstop, who
cracked it out between third and short.

Bogardus, having decided to take second on that
ball, anyway, had such a good start that he did no-
stop there, but kept on to third, which he made by a
hair, while Phillips reached the initial sack easily.

The Harvard spectators again went into fits. Things
Were certainly coming their way.

The fact that the next man popped an easy fly
straight into Jim Graham’s hands did not detract from
the enthusiasm a great deal.
third—for Phillips had managed to get down
only one out, the prospect for runs was good, indeed.
Better yet, Harvey, their first baseman, was at the

plate, and he could generally be depended on to do
something.

- Dick knew him to be a clever hitter, and he pitched
for all that was in-him. But Harvey refused to strike
at the tempting coaxers the Yale twirler sent up. He

hada good eye, and, though he longed to bit the ball,

he restrained his impatience, compelling Dick to put

_ the sphere over twice.

The second time it came over the Harvard first base-

_ ™man smashed it.

It was a line drive toward center field.

George Sanborn, who covered that territory, felt

Ae ‘ his heart leap into his throat. He knew Bogardus and
- Phillips would regard it as a safe hit, for not’ one

- person in a thousand could have fancied it possible
for the fielder to get his hands on the ball before it

touched the ground.' Knowing the Harvard runners

- would not cling to their bases, Sanborn stretched him-

self in the most amazing manner, coming in on the

: ball with great strides that carried him over the ground

_at bewildering speed. as

To the breathless onlookers it seemed that the sphere

; would certainly strike ten feet or more in front of him,

when Sanborn made a last headlong, scooping lunge.
at it.

and

er

With men on second and |

He was compelled to fling his whole body for-—

WEEKLY.

ward and thrust out his arms at full length. As it
was, he caught the ball with his hands flat on the
ground, scooping up a few blades of grass with his
fingers at the same time. Over he rolled, leaped to
his feet, and whipped the ball to second base, where
Baxter, instead of touching the sack, lined it to first to
head off Harvey.

The umpire declared the Harvard man safe.

Bogardus and Phillips had streaked for home the
instant the crack of leather meeting wood struck their
ears, and by this time had crossed the plate aiid a
wild turmoil of sound from the excited supporters of
the Crimson. |

Sanborn dashed in to second, yelling:

“Throw that ball here, Jim!
it quick !”

Wake up, and throw

Puzzled, Graham threw the ball to Sanborn, who

caught it with his foot planted on the hassock.

‘Judgment, Mr. Umpire!” he called.

The umpire turned toward him in amazement:
“What's your trouble?” he demanded.

“That Harvard runner left this bag before I caught

the ball,’ Sanborn retorted, still breathing unevenly.
“He’s out!”

CHAPTER VII.
TWO RUNS BEHIND.
The umpire smiled incredulously. 7
“That's a good bluff, son,” he said dryly. “Only
you didn’t catch it—you made a pick-up. I saw the
ball strike the ground. You couldn't possibly have
reached it when it struck. Get back to your position. ©

_ You're holding up the game.”

“Just a minute, please,” Merriwell put in quietly.
He had come hurriedly over the moment he saw the
fielder run in.
“Vou caught it, George 2” he asked, in a low tone. | :
-Sanborn’s face was flushed and his eyes angry. |
“T certainly did,” he said doggedly; “and it wasn’t
any cinch, either. Didn’t you see me?”
“T thought you did.”
“Bluff !’ called’ Harvey from first!
hands full of grass when he got up with the ball. .
was a clean pick-up.” pr cans
But Christy Hale and Joe Crowfoot both supported “
Sanborn. Sag hee Ay We

“He had his
Shes

“It was a clean catch,” came from the shortstop.

 
14 dak Ge

“Harvey's out, and so is Phillips. Neither of those
runs count.”
“Get back to your places,’ commanded the umpire

authoritatively. “I’m not blind. The fielder made a
good stop, but he couldn’t reach the ball before it
struck the ground.” |

A brief argument of a somewhat heated description
ensued, but the umpire, who was of Yale’s choice,
He finally

on the Yale players,

steadfastly refused to alter ,his decision.
threatened to “‘pull the watch”
and Graham was obliged to order them back to their
places. |

They went grudgingly, and in a decidedly bad tem-
per at what they considered the injustice of the ruling,
which placed them at such a disadvantage at the very
beginning of the game.

The great crowd of spectators were nearly equally
divided as to whether it had Been a pick-up or a catch.
A few Harvard men voiced their belief that the fielder
had been robbed of one of the most astonishing catches
ever seen; and there were some Yale men who
shrugged their shoulders when it was settled and as-
serted that of course it was a pick-up, though Sanborn
had made a splendid effort to get the ball before it
struck the ground.

Though he seemed calm and composed, the incident
was annoying to Dick. There is nothing more trying
than to have the opposing team scoop in runs which
have not been earned. Yet he was compelled to ac-
_knowledge to himself that the play had been so extraor-
dinarily close that perhaps the umpire should not be
blamed for not seeing it, when every one else was
- divided as to just what it had been,

Smith, t
Hale, who should have scooped it for a double play.

Unfortunately, the little chap was too anxious. See-
ing Harvey rushing to second, he plunged in at the
: By the time he got back and

the next man up, batted a slate grounder to

pall and overran it.
secured it Harvey was safe, and it was useless to try
to catch Smith. :

_ “Up ina balloon! up in a balloon !” sang Sparkfair
_ from the coaching line. “I’m sorry for you, boys, but

we're having a lovely time. Get away from that cush-

ion, Hal! Now, Joe, hit it on the seam!”

WEEKLY.

Canfield’s long

1g, Serious face never altered its solem™

expression, as he hastened to get in position to hit.
But he must have been too eager, for he popped up @
little fly, which Hale promptly smothered, with sony
relief to his ruffled feelings.

This made the second put-out, but Harvard was
hopeful of more runs, still havi

“Now, Erskin,”

you can do, son!”

ing two men on bases-

called Sparkfair, “show us what

‘he Harv: ard man grinned confidently, and promptly ;
smashed a fearfully long’ fly into center field. ‘a q
The ball seemed to be far over Sanborn’s head. He

realized the moment the bat cracked that he would have — "
to get back, and hé w
which

as off with those wonderful strides
1ate up ground in such an amazing manner, dash
ing toward the distant limits of the field.

He'll never touch it!” was the cry.
“TIL get it or die !’’

muttered the fielder through 4
clenched teeth.

He was still sore and angry at the injustice which -
um of his just due a'little while ago, and oe
at this moment he felt that if he could only catch that ae
ball soaring over his head before it touched the ground.

he would.be almost content never to play another game

had robbed hj

of baseball.

\

| crowd cheered frantically as Harvey.
and Smith raced Over the sacks, with Erskin hastening o
ast as he could. It looked like three
uch would handicap the Elis to such an
extent that there ayould be little chance left them.

Sanborn was tearing Over the turf at a. seemingly,
incredible _Speed, but the

Che Harvar:

after them as f

more runs, w]

sphere was going faster yet
dle swiftness, He could never

In dispirited silence the hess
arted Yale crow dw ‘atched him,

and dropping with horril
make

he

it—never !

A mioment |
ater the stands rose with a roar of WOM

and applause, for Sanborn had
hand, and: ler dive through the air, shot out his right
Stipped the He went down undef the |

impact, rolled over like 3 flash, sat up, and held ne S
captured ball ‘high above his head, "
“Maybe I didn’t get that one?”
But his words Ww

dering 7 astonishment

made anotk

ball.

he shouted eee

ere unheard, for the winpire hae

é

 
 

T1P DOP

bellowed, “Out!” and the Yale spectators roared again
and again.
_ Harvard’ had secured but two runs, after all, and
those had been presented to her by the umpire.

“Oh, I’m so glad!” cried Doris Templeton. “I never
thought he’d catch it, did you, June?”

June sighed and sank back into her seat, relaxing

for the first time the physical tension which had made
her actually tired.

“IT was afraid he might not,
it a wonderful catch, Chet?”

“Corking !” agreed her brother enthusiastically.

They joined with a will in the ovation which greeted
Sanborn as he came in from the field.

“But why did Dick let them have those two runs?”
inquired Doris, after the excitement had subsided.

“He didn’t!” flushing. ‘They
Shouldn’t have had them at all.
caught, only the umpire wouldn’t acknowledge he Was

> she answered. ‘‘Wasn’t

June,
That ball was really

retorted

Wrong.” | |

“How detestable '? exclaimed Doris, darting a fierce
little glance at the happily unconscious Official. “I
think it’s a perfect shame! He caught this one, and
‘T should think they’d know 3 must have got the other.
Why, it may lose the game.” —

“Don’t begin to worry now,” Chester said reassur-
ingly. “There’s time yet to win and lose the game
‘more that once. Just you wait and see Dick hold
them down.”

But, though he deetned confident, he could not bal

feeling a little anxious. With teams as equally matched

as these, two runs are by no means easy to make up.

It was presently seen that Sparkfair had never been
‘in better form in his life. But four men faced him
ee in the opening inning, and of these. only one reached
oo

_ Consequently, when Merriwell went into the box the
second time, though his name was cheered frantically
ty. the Yale crowd, there was plainly an undercurrent
of ‘uneasiness and tension. Was he going to hold them
down and show that rather unfortunate beginning to
; have been siniply one of those lapses which are apt
: to strike the best pitchers in the world, sometimes W ith-
; out ‘apparent rhyme or ‘reason T housands of: minds

WEEKLY.

hoped so fervently, and thousands of pairs of eyes
were fixed eagerly on him as he toed the slab, straight,
lithe, and absolutely impassive.

In trying to deceive his first man, Dick gave him
three balls in succession. Then he was forced to put
them over. He knew the batter would take one or two,
so he sent two swift, straight ones directly over, and
two strikes were called.

Then came the critical moment, for the next ball
pitched would’ settle the matter. Dick sent in a rise,

He
missed by several inches, and the ball landed with a

and the batter nearly upset himself swinging at it.

plunk in Buckhart’s cavernous mitt.

“Out!” called the umpire.

The Yale crowd cheered, and then settled back into
their seats with sighs of relief. Things were looking
better. : ey

Sparkfair approached the plate, wearing his usual
urbane and smiling expression.

“You

“Gently, Richard,” he

murmured softly.

know I have a weak heart.”

In spite of that alleged defective organ, he managed
to crack the ball out. between third and short, and by
some amazingly swift sprinting, assisted by an unac-
countable slowness on the part of Yale’s left fielder,
he succeeded in reaching the initial sack in safety.

“Horseshoes,” he drawled, dancing off the cushion.
“Your man was certainly good to me, Dickie.” _

His enthusiasm was shortlived. The next man up
sent an easy one to Dick, who gathered it in, threw the
runner out at second, and Baxter promptly lined the .
ball to first in time to retire the side on a double play.

No wonder the Yale crowd cheered like mad. And
when the cheering ceased, despite the standing of the
score, they sang: .

“Hard luck for poor old Harvard,
Too bad you'll lose to-day !

Tell all the boys that every hope is gone,
And Eli will still hold sway.

You may boast your Crimson wonders,
And how they all can play.

Good-by to all those fondled hopes ;
Old Yale will win to-day.”

nt shouldn't like to put money up on it,” laughed Ly
Sparkfair, as he ambled over to the box. “We don't —

 
 

ean eines eee eee

16

 

need any more runs, and I have a hunch, Richard, that
we're going to hang onto that lead of ours.”
Dick smiled over his shoulder.
“Don’t be too sure, Sparkie,’ he returned cheer-

fully. ‘““There’s many a slip, you know.”

CHAPTER VIII.
THE MOMENT OF HIS LIFE,

For a brief space it looked as if Dick were right.
He started off the inning by a clean single, but there
Yale’s good luck ended. Sparkfair was plainly on his
mettle. He fanned the next two men and coaxed San-
born into sending up a foul back of the pan that
Bogardus, by dint of tall sprinting, managed to get
under, thus again retiring Yale without a score.

But Merriwell was also out for blood, and proved
that the faith of the excited Yale rooters was well
founded.

while not another man got a safe hit, though one

He struck out his first batter with ease,

reached first on the second baseman’s error.

The Yale crowd cheered like Indians, and then set-
tled back in breathless expectancy.

When the third inning ended, as had the others,
without the home team coming anywhere near a score,
the excitement began to run high. It did not seem
possible that this thing could continue much longer,
but the fourth inning brought the same result.

The fifth opened in breathless suspense. The game
had developed into a battle royal between the pitchers,
neither of Whom showed any signs of relapse from
the extraordinary form they had displayed.. The Yale
supporters would have been happy but for those two
unfortunate runs’ which loomed bigger as the innings
followed one another. in quick succession. Surely the
streak must be broken soon.

In the fifth Harvard succeeded in getting a man
to third, with only one out, and the Cambridge crowd
cheered themselves hoarse at the prospect of more
runs. An attempted “squeeze” failed, however, and
a double play was made, retiring the side.

Then it was Yale’s turn to make a noise, which she

did with all the power in those many lungs.

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

SS

arte ae m . >
3 ER nd a a Sa

  

 
   
     

 

Yale opened the second half by batting a ball straight | -

 

at Harvard’s shortstop, who played tag with it, chas-

ing it around his feet long enough to allow the battet.
to reach first.

This seemed to break the Crimson team up a bit.

3 , \
The runner tried for second on the first ball pitched,

and Harvard’s catcher overthrew, though he had plenty

of time to nail his man.

The runner kept on to third,
and got it on a slide.

Now Yale rejoiced, Although he had not obtained

a hit, the man had reached third on two errors, and
there was “very prospect of scoring.

sparkfair did not seem to lose his temper or his

coolness, He took plenty of time to let everybody |

get quieted down, and then quickly struck out the meXt

mé oe itd t ;
in. The third batter, however, managed to hit the

ball squarely and drove a fly into left field. It Was

gathered in easily, but the runner on third held the bag
until the fly was caught

 

Y + ae

hy!
ty
a:

and made a desperate dash for pee

home. «mh

The left fielder threw well, and the ball struck the ; :

catcher’s mitt.
catcher lost t¢]
the side.

The Yale supporters billowed to their feet and sent

cheer after che : ‘ile
cheer surging out across the field, while, f

the whole’ stand fluttered with blue flags until: 1
sembled the he oa
Crimson luck had been broken. . Could Harvard be
held. Two more runs on]
game, and sure]
remained,

y Were needed to win

The more thoughtful shook their heads doubtfully,
however,

had not been made by

good playing, but by errors of
the other side, :

and they were/not quite so sanguine 4° _
the enthusiasti |

faith in Merriwell]

team out of worse holes than this

Sparkfair struck out his next man with a quickness :

and dispatch which showed that poor backing did sip
ruffle him in the sl |

resolved to do something this time,

/

aving bosom of the sea. At last the

the

7 they would be made in.the time which a.

¢ undergraduates. Still, every one had
» who had more than once pulled the —

IY

t

ightest. Then Harvard came to bat, x

They did not succeed in doing much, for Dick was .

-

“a
My .

ohn”

It did not stick, however, and the a

1€ Opportunity to stop the score and retite 3)

 

 

 

They realized that Yale’s first and only Tu” . ey

 

 

 
   

5

  

 
 

 

     
     

 

  
 

   

   

ter ee
ite
be
ta i

 

tr,

 

  
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
  
   
  
 

a

   
    
    
 

 

_. Merriwelt more than any of them could ever know.

LIP etree

 

5 . : - sb ; - rd rf bs
a8 good.as ever, and the fielders gathered in everything

Which came their way.

At the ending of the seventh inning the score still
remained two to one, in Harvard’s favor. It was be-
ginning to look as if Yale would lose. Here and there
| about the stands men were consoling one another with
the thought that, even if this game was iost, there was
Still a chance for the championship. A third, deciding
ame would have to be played, in which Yale would
Stand as good a chance of winning as her rival.

These were the pessimists. The great bulk of Elis
still clung to the belief that Dick would, somehow,
Wring victory from defeat, as he had done so many
times before. They still continued to cheer his name
how and then with all the vigor that was in them, and

the note of genuine enthusiasm in their voices helped

In the first half of the eighth Harvard went at it to
make some more runs. One man got a hit, stole sec-
ond, and went to third on an error that allowed. the

batter to reach first.

_ The crimson flags fluttered merrily, while the occu-

pants of the Yale stands held their breath. Was this
going to be a repetition of that first inning? Was
-Merriwell going to pieces, or even getting rattled ?
Evidently not. Dick présently tricked the mie on
third into getting off the bag, and then threw him oe
in a way which brought a yell of delight from Y ee
men. That fixed it so the next batter could ‘not hit
for the “squeeze play.” Then Dick got busy aut re-
tired the side by fanning the two batters so acy
and neatly that it seemed as if they had scarcely faced

- him before the umpire declared them out.

As Harvard took the field and the first Yale batter

walked to the plate, June Arlington sighed a little. She

knew enough of the game and of this particular team
to realize that, while Christy Hale might be remarka-
bly clever in the field, he could not always be depended

on to make any great showing at the bat.

- “Oh, if Dick were only up—or Brad!” she mur-
iS ;

-™mured anxiously.

Br Tensely she sat there, clutching her flag, with anx-

i ious eyes fixed on the batter, and losing not the slight-

\

   

   

WEEKLY. 17

est movement hé made. When he dumped the ball into
the diamond she gasped; and when he was thrown out
at first her face lost a little of its bright color.

A worried wrinkle came into her forehead when
Baxter flied out to center. A moment or two later her
heart leaped into her throat, and she gave a cry of joy
as Jim Graham got a safe hit, which placed him on
first. Then her eyes flashed to where Merriwell was
carefully selecting his bat.

“Oh: Dick, hit

breathed, in low, excited tones.

you must it—you must!” she

With hands clasped tightly in her lap, and the blue
banner trailing unnoticed over her skirt, she sat there
rigid, gazing breathlessly at the man she cared for
more than any one else in the world, and upon whom
she felt the hopes of victory depended.

She scarcely noticed Graham streaking to second,
but she saw Sparkfair’s calm, confident smile, and
almost hated him for it.

Two balls were called, and then two strikes. The
Her
hands clasped so tightly over the stick of the flag that

girl’s face was white and her eyes glittered.

the knuckles showed white through the drawn skin.
Crack! The frail stick splintered.
Bat and ball met fairly at the same time, and away
sailed the sphere over the head of the shortstop.

“Run!” cried the girl excitedly.

3ut her voice was drowned in the roar that shook
the stands. No need to tell Dick to run. In a moment
he was scudding to first, while the left fielder dashed
back for the ball, which had passed beyond his reach.

Dick kept on for second. There was so much noise
that he could-not hear the coachers, but he saw their
wildly waving arms, and, out of the tail of his eye, he
saw also that the fielder had not yet secured the ball,
He made third, and the excited coacher sent him home

with a furious gesture.

Every soul in those great, crowded stands had leaped
up, It seemed as if every one was shouting and waving
flags or hats or handkerchiefs. It was a moment of
such thrilling, nerve-tingling excitement as is seldom
witnessed. If Merriwell reached home, Yale won; if
he failed, the score was tied, for Graham had already

scored.

  
 

EE DI PATENT L A

 

5 rine ere

h

_ thythmical regularity on the first name.

  

cette rr tema TW SLE OPT SG

   

18 TIP TOP

The fielder had secured the ball and whipped it to

the shortstop. The latter whirled and sent it whistling
home. The catcher was ready to stop Merriwell.

“Slide!”

The word, bawled from a hundred lips, Dick heard
He did slide. Feet first, he
scooted in a cloud of dust. The
and lunged downward to put it onto Dick—an instant

above the frantic din.
catcher got the ball

too late!
“Safe, home!’

his characteristic gesture.

rang the voice of the umpire, with

Another roar, louder, wilder, full of unbounded joy!

The Yale cheer! Again and again it rang out, deep,

booming, thrilling in its intense, overpowering en-
thusiasm.

And then another cheer
““Merriwell! Merriwell! Merriwell!”
Dick

aided by a. dozen eager arms.

Laughing, panting, tingling with happiness,
scrambled to his feet,
Facing the stands, he pulled off his cap again and
again, and then his eyes sought unerringly one face in
that great sea of faces—a gitl who smiled at .him
through a mist of happy tears and waved the stump
of what had once been a Yale banner.

Such moments as this come but rarely to a man, but

they are well worth living for.

CHAPTER IX.
FRANK MERRIWELL’S SURPRISE,

A moment later a strange thing happened. With

_ scarcely a pause or cessation in the noise, the crashing

cheers took on a slightly different sound.

“Frank Merriwell! Frank Mer-

Frank Merriwell!

ia riwell !’”’

‘Al thousand voices took up the cry, dwelling with
A thousand

pairs of eyes turned toward the reunion stand,

“Where is he?” bellowed one vs the cheer leaders

; through a megaphone,

“Where i is he? Where is het RY ates the crowd. :

nite slight disturbance wea seen among the eroup:t ‘of

   

WEEKLY.

     
      
     
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
   
   
 
  
   
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
   
   
 
   
        
    
   
      
      
     
       
     
     
     
     
     
     

pseudo cowboys gathered in the center of the stand.
[hey seemed to be urging one of their number to get”

on his feet, and that one appeared to resist. |
All at once two others sprang up on the seats, um
folding behind him, as they.did so, a great banner, on - } ;
which could be plainly read from every part of the —
field: 7x
HERE HE IS. |

“x

| The shouts were redoubled as the tall, graceful figure
rose slowly to his feet and stood there quite still. One

would scarcely have supposed there would be enough —

 

 

breath left jn the lungs of the yelling multitude to make +
so much noise as greeted the appearance of this, the rs
teal idol of Yale. b
Dazed and bewildered at the unexpected suddenness 4 ie
of it all, Frank faced the shouting throng who had fe
showed so plainly that they had not forgotten. He a

could not have spoken a word had it been necessary-
Something caught his throat in a tight grip and a mist
passed over his eyes, through which the sea of faces

and waving flags showed but indistinctly. s
Ny

 

At last he managed to wave his hat and smile, and
then dropped back into his seat.

ee os A a ti i
[ told you so,” commented a laughing voice at hs =

side. “I knew they hadn't forgotten. Lucky WE

 

brought that sign along, wasn’t it?” mae
“You're an old idiot, Har try,’ Frank smiled. But ete,

there was a little catch in his voice, which showed |

something of how deeply affected he was ve

“Most extwe ; ” “ 2 fee
‘ost extwaordinary,” commented a Harvard senior © |

ee Ve rT Nr 2 _
Fawney cheering a graduate like that.

Why, ‘they made more fuss over ee than over the
fellow who brought in Wo runs.” - . iA

languidly.

| lis S a n oi ‘
companion, a graduate of some years’ standing,
snorted. eet

/

“Nothing extraordinary about it,’ he remarked, wit .
some tartness. “Tt simply shows that when a man
a record such as Frank Merriwell made at Y ale,
he’s never. forgotten. You think Dick Merriwell ae
some pumpkins on the diamond—and so he ig—but |

he can’t hold a candle to his brother. I knows te
cause I've been " against him,” HES TONY aa

 

 

makes a

 
|. up, hoisted to broad shoulders, and |

 

TIP TOP WEEKLY. 3

| even, had not been finished. But a good deal of
license is allowed a commencement crowd, and, even
had the umpire attempted to resume the game, it would
have been effort wasted.
_ As soon as the cheering died down, however, he got
busy and started things going again.
| Sparkfair, unperturbed as ever, struck his. man out
promptly, and Yale took the field. 5
, The end came swiftly. Dick pitched with every bit

Of skill and cunning he possessed. Three men only

faced him, and the game was brought to a close to

the accompaniment of such wild enthusiasm as had
ts

rarely been witnessed.
the field like a

The spectators poured down onto
ho had won the

Mighty torrent, surrounding the man W

| Y. Bef scape ras ht
game for Yale, Before he could escape he was caug
born off in triumph.

Around and around the field they circled, yelling,

i i i ¢ er mein-
Cheering, and shouting like madmen. The othe

bers Of the team had also been captured, and were
Carried along after him. The bands crashed out again
* and again the words rang

in the strains of “Boola,
ling than they

out, with even more emphasis and fee
had before the game.

For Dick, it was a moment of thrilling hap
ch on the Yale team, but he

piness.

‘ Never again would he pit
Was content. He had fought his fight and made a
_ Slorious finish.

* * * * * *k *

| “Well, Dick, what’s up?” Frank asked, as he entered
his brother’s sooth at Durfee. “You wanted to have
talk with me?” |
Both Dick and Bfad
“Momentary lull in the festiv
little: much-needed rest and relaxation.
had been more deeply affected
. happenings of the past few days.

were taking advantage of a
e proceedings to get a
The former

It seemed as if every one
a conspiracy to make him conceite
_ himself down to the most callow, unimportant fr

' erest regret at his

d. From the dean

-™an, had come expressions of sinc
_ @pproaching departure. Fellows he ;
Ae had always supposed disliked him, or were abso-

\

than he realized jby the _

was banded together in a

scarcely knew, men

lutely indifferent as to whether he went or stayed, had
told him how sorry they were that he was going, and
wished him every possible success in after life.

With

the unexpected glimpses of character revealed to him

All that sort of thing is mentally wearing.

now, Merriwell found himself constantly wishing re-
gretfully that he had found time to cultivate this fel-
low, or that, a little more; found himself wondering
how he could possibly have been so blind regarding the
good qualities of some chap he had always set down
as rather a poor sort. Now that it was too late, he
felt-as if he had missed a good many things, after all.
He did not realize that a man’s college life could
scarcely have been fuller of incident and friendship,
more truly rounded out, than his.

He had started that morning to pack some of his
belongings, and that is never a pleasant nor an easy
thing to-do. Every picture, every book, almost every
piece of furniture, was crowded thick with memories
of those five glorious years. Each article he touched
brought into his mind a sea of phantom faces of those
who had, at one time or another, crowded those very
rooms and made them ring with merry laughter and
careless jest. Where they were now he did not know.
Scattered to the four corners of the earth, probably ;
passed out of his life as completely and finally as if he
had never known them. And now he was to pass on,
too, leaving nothing but a memory behind.

Decidedly it was not a pleasant occupation, and he
soon left off, determined to leave it to the very end,
that. nothing might mar the pleasure of those few

precious hours which yet remained. He therefore

_ welcomed Frank’s appearance with joy and relief.

“Why, yes,’ he answered, springing up from the
window seat. “I wanted to talk to you about going to
work.”

Merry smiled a little as he dropped down in an
easy-chair.

“So very anxious to get into harness?” he queried,
with a smile. |

“Well, you see, I’ve been here a whole year more”
than I should,’ Dick explained; “and I don’t feel as

if I ought to lose any more time.”

Frank watched him for a minute in thoughtful si-

 
 

“rss

- és ig good shape.”

maenvten. er titemmen 5D na fpr crmateoasen oe
ie aianaanhere ape Lane ney “omer eur

ees ae ee

lence, the smile lingering a bit at the corners of his
mouth.
“Any ide
Dick flushed a
“Tm afraid I haven’t.
different things, but don’t seem to hanker madly after
I do want to go to work, though,

a what you want to do?” he asked.
bit and shook his head.

I’ve thought about a lot of

any particular one.
and stop being a bother to you.”

“Just haven’t come across your vocation,”
“That’s often the case with a boy just
out of college. Usually they grab the first thing that’s
offered and sometimes regret it all their lives. There’s
nothing worse for a man than to get into something
He pegs away without any

Merry

commented.

which isn’t congenial.
interest in his work and wears himself out mentally
and physically. Once in a while he gets ahead, all
right, but it’s
doing something he liked it wouldn’t be drudgery,
but pleasure.”

He broke off with a suite at the serious expression

because he forces himself. If he were

on his brother’s face.
“Well, I’ve
First of all, I want you to cut out

“Quite a lecture, isn’t it?” he chuckled.
got to the point.
‘the notion right away that you’re a bother to me. A’
man’s got to have some work to do or else be like a
ship without a rudder, but there’s no reason, when he
can afford it, why he should jump at the first thing
that comes his way and find out afterward that it’s
the wrong thing. Besides, you roe maven t finished
- your education yet.”

: Dick’s fee widened with surprise.

“That's news to me?”*he smiled. “I was under

nA the impression that I got my diploma the other day

'

“What a kid you are, Dick!’ Frank laughed. “You

Bi Gea that studying doesn’t comprise quite ev erything

i there i is to education? To my mind, there’s nothing

_ more broadening than travel. Dve always had the

i conviction. that, whenever it’s s possible, a man should
become thoroughly familiar with his own country be-

“ fore settling down. He ought to see her resources and

) "development, and become acquainted with her people.

Now my idea is this: 1 want you to spend a year

in going over FT, cepa bit, a territory from

SLATER MAI

<p rth ryt npet- rant pL << pe RP RTS ee

WEEKLY.

Maine to California. T want you to look into the dif-

ferent industries and learn about them at first hand.
I want you to see how the great farms and ranches of |
the West are run, to Inspect mines and lumbering
operations, to get some notion of the methods employed ©
in great financial centers. It’s a pretty big proposition,
I know, and may take more than a year, but it will be
time well spent. It will give you a breadth of knowl-
edge and a comprehension which you couldn’t possibly
acquire in any other way. And if, during your travels,
you don’t hit upon your vocation, I shall be very
much surprised. How does the idea strike you?”

During the course of his explanation Dick’s eyes
had been getting bigger and bigger, until now they
threatened to pop out, Buckhart, from the other end
of the room, where he had been listening intently to
it all, was equally surprised at the immensity of the
plan,

“It’s corking!” Dick cried enthusiastically. “By
Jove! Inever heard of anything so bully. Why, you'd

learn aboutall sorts of things you'd never havea chance
to otherwise.”

“Exactly,” nodded Frank. “And you'd be having

a pretty good time doing it. I don’t want you to
think you've got to stick strictly to business all the
time. That will be the principal thing, of course, but
it won’t need to keep you from visiting friends now is
and then when you happen to run across, them, or”

playing a game of baseball if you get the chance. The

only drawback seems to be the unpleasantness of travel-— on

ing so much BOR and I had a notion that perhaps ‘e
Buckhart

He sad and glanced at Brad, his eyes twinkling. :

“Suffering catamounts!” cried the big chap, spring- |
ing up excitedly. “Will T gor Just you watch me! 4
If I can’t jolly dad into shelling out, I'll beg, borrow, |
or steal the coin somehow, |

You hear me gently war-_
ble!” | baa

“I don’t think you'll have any trouble convincing ;
him what a good thing it will be for you,’ ’ Frank ©
laughed. “But if he should prove obstreperous, don’ #3
steal the money, please. Come to me and rl lend 4 3
to you with the greatest pleasure.” ‘

aoe a /iittle while ais they discussed the ‘matter

 
TIP TOP WEEKLY. is

With eager interest, but the two chums were so €x-
cited and thrilled at the prospect that they could
Scarcely go into the details coherently. F rank there-
fore put that off to another time when they should have
calmed down, and departed, leaving behind him a
much rosier atmosphere than he had found there.

Though neither of the friends had said a word
about it, the thing which had weighed on their spirits
More than any other was the possibility of being sepa-
Tated, once they had left New Haven. Their joy at
having it put off for a. year at least can, consequently,
" ‘better imagined than described.

CHAPTER X.
THE RACE.

A stretch a water, smooth and gleaming in the
slanting rays of the afternoon sun, 4A fleet of yachts,
€Xcursion steamers, launches, packed with excited peo-

Pie and gay with flags, hugging the banks. The ugly

u-
observation train, riotous with the cheers of tho

sands. and flaunting the colors of Yale and Harvard,
And those two long, low

tailing along the shore. they
e

cing shells gliding swiftly into place, wher :
Would rest quietly for a moment until the pistol starte
On that desperate spurt for which those sixteen

| had been preparing ardo
Tt was a thrilling, inspiring sigh

“nd of everything for the graduating class.

Mish of the race the curtain would fall upo

usly since midwinter.
t, and it was the
With the
n the col-

ny . of the glee- Las. members were with hace

, as the shells came into sight, Dick sudde
the leader. | ,
Why don’t 96 give them the crew song

nly turned
, Jack?” he

“ Attention,

song, and do it properly.

; Good be. Dick,” the other agreed.

‘Let’s have the crew

ats, and a mo-

\

| Te was a general clearing of thro

ment later the first lines of the beautiful racing song

rang out on the summer air:

“Onward, like the swallow going,
Roused in every nerve and sense;

Oh, the wild delight of knowing

*Tis our power that does the rowing!
Oh, the joy of life intense!

Onward! make her cut the water,

And, for fame of Alma Mater,

Stroke! Stroke! Stroke!”

As those enthusiastic young voices sang the inspir-
thrilling rhythm,
the other sounds were gradually stilled as the vast

ing words with their contagious,

crowd listened. Qne by one others took up the air,
and with the beginning of the second verse every one
who knew the song was adding his voice to the sing-

ing:

“Deep we drink the inspiration,

Eager zest lights up each face;
Eestacy and exultation
Come from honest emulation

In the contest and the race.

Nerves of iron and hearts of oak,
Under eyes of youths and maidens,
Catch the ringing, swinging .cadence—

Stroke! Stroke! Stroke!”

With scarcely a pause they swung into the last verse.
Faster and faster the words came, thrilling the men in
those shells and making them determined to win at
any cost:

“Steady now! Let no distraction,
Nothing, make us halt or quail;

All, in unison of action,

Win the noble satisfaction—
Victory for good old Yale!
Coolly every power invoke,

Do not break in sweep or “feather,”

One last effort! All together!

Steady, now! Old Yale forever!
Stroke! -Stroke! Stroke!’

The last words rang out clearly, triumphantly, and
then a silence, sudden, almost uncanny, fell upon the
great multitude. The two long racing shells lay side
by side now, floating upon the polished, glassy surface
of the river, They scarcely stirred, and their occu-
pants sat like statues of bronze, but somehow the

watchers sensed a little of that quivering tension which

beset every one of those eighteen men as they waited + 3
with taut muscles and aw nerves the signal for the

Stare | ;

 
 

ee ee

Crack!

The pistol shot split the silence like the snap of a
whip, and the two shells leaped away from their sta-
tions like things alive. A moment or two and the
flurry of the racing start had subsided. Spray no
longer flew from oar blades, and both crews settled
down into that long stroke which was as rhythmic as
the song that had just sounded across the! placid
water.

The train started with a jerk and rumbled slowly
along. Some of the boats closed in behind the shells
and followed at a discreet distance. The spectators
watched breathlessly, with now and then a sudden
burst of cheering when one or the other shells seemed
to forge ahead a shade.

too excited even to cheer.

Silent, tense, unconscious even of the girl at his side,
‘Dick watched the two crews seesawing, neck and neck,
into the second mile. To his practiced eye, they seemed
not to have changed their relative positions by an inch.
Twice Yale had increased the stroke, but Harvard met

them by a spurt no less indomitable.

Nine-tenths of the observers, watching the grace-
fully swaying figures of the oarsmen, had no concep-
tion of the tremendous, agonized effort they were
really making to drive those skimming shells along
and felt for

He

noticed with approval the splendid form of Blair

at such a speed. But Merriwell knew,

them as only one athlete can feel for another.

Hildebrand, the senior who had once wanted to give
up his place on the crew to another, whom he thought
was the better man. Dick had persuaded him that he
was wrong, and now the correctness of that judgment
was amply proven. The fellow was rowing with a per-
fection which is. seldom equaled.

- Suddenly Merriwell drew his breath swiftly. The
- two shells no longer seemed locked side by side. Inch
by inch the crimson jersey of the Harvard coxswain
crept ahead of the blue. The rival shell was gaining.
The two-mile flag was reached and passed.

Instantly Wilmerding, the Yale stroke, put it up

. a point higher and held it there throughout the third

mile. But try as he would he could not seem to make
up that lost half length. ee

Most of them, however,. were ©

WEEKLY.

Into the fourth and last mile the two shells flashed.
Dick watched them breathlessly, his face set'and eyes’
glittering. He had forgotten where he was, forgotten
everything save those two narrow, skimming shells.
Yale must win—she must!

‘Another point, now, Jack,” he said aloud, and was —
not conscious that he had spoken.

As if he had heard the words, Wilmerding pushed
the stroke up again. They were in the last half mile
now. The race had become one long, desperate spurt.
The men were flinging away their reserve power,
trusting to luck that they might finish without col-
lapsing.

At last the Yale shell seemed to be drawing ahead,- |

but with horrible slowness. Inch by inch, sometimes

by fractions, it crept forward. The judges’ boat was
very near. Would they make it? It seemed almost
impossible, but they must—they must!

There was no lack of noise now. Excitement was
vented in cheers and frantic yells. Men leaned far
over the edge of the train or boat in their eagerness
to see the finish.

Up, up, Up crept the Yale boat. Nearer afd nearer —
came the end. Dick dashed one hand over his maist
forehead, but his eyes never left the flying streaks.
The blue jersey was Opposite the crimson now; 4—
trembling, momentary pause in which the two shells
seemed interlocked again,-and then. 3

The yell which issued from Merriwell’s lips was ;
earsplitting, but the girl at his sj

ide did not notice it.
She was waving bot}

1 hands frantically and crying —
over and over again:

ce 7 ? y L
We've won! We've won!

>?

We've won!

The margin was a scant. two feet, but it was enough. .

For the second time within a week Yale had triumphed >
over her crimson rivals!

And then to hear the wild, roaring cheers which
crashed but over the water! To listen to the shrilling u

of steam whistles and booming of cannon from the —

yachts! To see the thousands of fluttering flags, wee
thousands of j oe laughing doce |

Tt was good 4o be alive—and there. Other days

-” ae PE EN aa Set esa ee Pita

 
TIP TOP’ WEEKLY. 33

Dick felt that» due to descend on the Sparkfairs’, bag and baggage,
next Tuesday.”

“You?” gasped Dick, his face lighting up.
“Yes; isn't it perfect? I’m going to stay with Celia.
I couldn’t imagine what Dale meant when he said he
CHAPTER XI. had a surprise up his sleeve for me. But, of course,

| this is it.” ,
“By Jove!” laughed Dick. “He told me he had
an inducement which J couldn’t possibly resist. He

| THE LAST DAY.
ma) 9 é ; z ’ rer
“t's been perfect, Dick. I dont think [ve eve

Aad such a wonderful time in all my life.” eae
was pretty near right.

June dropped her eyes and poked the end of her

“lt has been beastly short,” he complained. “I don't parasol into a crack in the flagging. The look in Dick’s

seem to have had time to talk over half I wanted to, eyes had sent her heart to fluttering madly.

“He thinks he’s so clever, but we'll show him a

With SO ™m » ””
| uch going on.
| Jang thing or two,” Merriwell laughed. ‘Won't he feel

hey were at the railroad station again, ane |
departing. Chester had left hurriedly immedi-  ..14 when we meet without any manifestation of sur-

ky 9 : > eturn Sas a $ Se 2? :
Y after the boat race, leaving his sister to T prise whatever?

ith the party of girls, whom a distant relative had The warning whistle of the approaching train

Ae Y scat-
‘Toned through the festivities. — These were ae

~*@ about the station platform, each eg ee “Oh, dear, there it is!” sighedsJune. ‘We'd better
os eres oie nora get around to the front platform. Good-by, Dick.
: aig have missed a single Pye ‘had a perfectly adorable Oh, Dick! You
know, but still I wouldn't have

Ng for Cae hae answered. “We can talk
fach other almost any time, especiall
~~ *dorable plan of Frank’s. -When you are study-
the metliods of Wall Street, I shall expect to See

’

mustn’t. .Somebody’ll see

WT har po The rest of her faint protest was inaudible. A mo-
y considering es
ment later as they hurried to the front of the station,

she was straightening her hat, and her face was de-

cidedly flushed.

> ; ee 2 wacn'’t <« ” " f 4 ‘c
xpectations,’ There wasn't any one to see,” Dick smiled. “And

laughed. “But that may be a long pus ee i iho , saat
On’t think hall be in New York until the fall The girl did not reply, but from her expression it
Ink we shall De 1M +

I shouldn’t have cared a lot if there had been.”

was evident that she was not exactly angry.
the girl asked in- The train pulled in, and the various couples who
. had been scattered about hastily sought the Pullman.

don't | ‘-s; working out @ here were hurried good-bys on every side. Doris
T don’t know exactly. , Frank 1s working ou : | g y )
1 ii on tl

iat, Brad and I Templeton managed to take her mind off Darrell long
k with Dale Spark- enough to shake Dick’s hand and tell him what a

itinerary, and while he’s
thrilling week she had had. The warning whistle blew

be ; st of silvery and there was a scurry of fellows to get off. The
ng Island!” put in June, with a bur y g |

iter, “That’s the most perfect thie
| t is what he meant by his mysterious
looked bewildered.

ng I ever heard! train started, and from the open windows, filled with
hinting.” eager, regretful, girlish faces, came a chorus of good-

Pn bys, which was answered by the disconsolate group on
’ he commented. the platform. A moment later the last car vanished me
Iam also from sight around a bend.

Le

Of ‘course, you ‘don’t. . It’s too. funny:

 
 

TP STOP

The air was full of the spirit of parting. On every
side “farewell” was whispered in subtle accents as em-

phatic as spoken words. The campus had been de-

serted by almost every one save the departing seniors,

and some, even, of them had gone. Rooms were dis-
mantled and trunks, half packed, gaped wide and un-
pleasant in the middle of every floor. Fellows gathered
in quiet groups, content just to be with one another
The

It was the

a little longer, and speech was somehow not easy.
curtain was falling swiftly, inexorably.
last day. After to-night would come—the end.

Dick slowly climbed the stairs of Durfee and en-
tered that familiar door with Something tugging at
his heartstrings. This had been his home, and about
it clustered the memories of those years of struggle
and triumph, of hopes and fears and thrilling happi-
ness. It was not easy to leave it.

Two

great packing boxes held the pictures, books, and the

The rooms were almost dismantled now.
thousand and one things, priceless with associations.
In the bedroom, two trunks, half packed, stood against
bare walls.

Brad, evidently just come in, sprawled on the hard
window seat, his square chin resting in his hands, his
eyes gazing out across the expanse of green. He did
not look up as Dick entered, and Merriwell made no
comment.

He went into the bedroom and began tossing the
contents of various drawers into his trunk. When he
‘came back, five minutes later, the Texan was bending
over one of the boxes, trying to squeeze in a few sofa
cushions. His face was flushed—from leaning over, no
doubt. to a |

‘A’ moment later a light, hesitating knock sounded on
the door. | 3

“Come in " roared Buckhart, with rather unneces-
_ sary vigor.

A moment later he scowled as his eyes fell upon
the face of Morgan Grath. |
“Well?” he snapped suspiciously.
i with the chap*had taught him to expect nothing good

from that quarter. Eg

His intercourse

WEEKLY.

Grath did not answer. His eyes were fixed on Dick
Merriwell’s face, and in his own was an expression
The cynical,
He was somewhat pale
and his mouth was set in a narrow, straight line. He
gave the curious impression, somehow, of one who
had been dragged through a knot hole. Twice he

moistened his lips, and at last he spoke :

neither man had ever seen there before.

sarcastic look had vanished.

he fal-
“I’ve been as mean as dirt;
I’ve tried to do you every way I could, I’ve been
low-down rotten, but I haven’t realized just how rotten
I was till—lately.

co ae . ’
I-——want to—beg your pardon, Merriwell,”
tered, in an uneven voice,

I wanted to tell you how—sorry I
I haven't been different, and—to say—good-by.
I had to, somehow. I don’t
spose you'd shake hands, just once, but if—you

was
I stayed over for this,

:
——

would

He broke off and his eyes sought the floor. For a
second Merriwell hesitated, his faée expressing a little
of the surprise which filled him. Then he stepped for-
ward, one hand outstretched.

“We haven't beemvery good friends, Grath,” he said
“But I’m perfectly willing to shake hands and
forget all about our differences.”

quietly.

The junior grasped the hand held out to him and
gripped it tight.

“Thank you,” he faltered.

“That helps—a lot. I've
been a cur, but next year I’m going to be—different.
I've wasted three years of my life. If I don’t waste
the fourth, it will be thanks to you.” |

Dick’s arm dropped to his side and he smiled a little
sadly. |

“Be thankful you have a year left, Grath, y he said* |
quietly. “T'welve months from now you'll know what
Good-by, and good luck.”

I mean.

“The coyote!” rasped Brad, after the foot had closed —
upon the unexpected visitor. |

“T like his nerve, coming —
here after the way he’s tried to do you dirt. He res. |
form? Rot! I tell you, pard, he’s faking. Pil be —
hanged if I’d have shaken hands with him.” es

For a second Dick looked at his chum, that odd, re- ,

gretful emile still curving the corners of his sensitive, a

 
TIP TOP WEEKLY.

i” ; ; 5 \
“Oh, yes, you would, Brad,” he said quietly— tor.

‘I ight,” :

CHAPTER XII.

THE CURTAIN FALLS.

Night. The campus wrapped in a strange
slow from the moon just peeping above the 'é
MFegular roof line of the college buildings, dappling
th grass with spots of silver, and falling here and there
~ Massive, ivy-mantled walls of stone. |

bout the fence, clustering there together for the last
They stood very

luminous

gged,

Me, was the class—senior no longer.
: - a col-
€ together, some with an arm thrown about a co
’ .
Tade’s shoulder. And each one was thi s
, VW] 7 7 Nac
Tful those four years had been, how swiftly they

, - of his meant to
d, and how much more these friends of his me

eth than he had ever supposed friends coulc
: They had been singing—merry, cheerfu
Mostly, tu hide the heartache each one felt, but dreaded
‘XPress. But now they were silent.
Seemed to have been all-used up.
Por @ space no one broke the stillness. 3
i Seemed to cease their eternal whispering to ee
. moon rose higher. Here and there a hand tight-
MEd unconsciously ona big shoulder or 4 foot shuffled
” the gravel, Whe
: We haven't sung ‘Neath the Elms’ yet, came the
*t Voice of Dick Merriwell out of the darkness. /
a sigh of relief and a aac
“Tus of agreement. The stillness had been oe
: ‘There was a genera
perhaps, and

nking how won-
| mean.

| songs,
The joyous

The very

he nerves of a good many.
“ating of throats, a trifle prolonged,
still «night
d singularly oF

‘ air in the
“n the voices rang out on the

as of the old song which seeme

; jon:
“°PTiate to the time and place and the occas!

“Winds of night, around us sighing,

In the elm trees murmur low ;
Let no ruder sounds replying;
Break our happy voices flow.
'Tis a jolly life we lead,
_ Care and trouble we defy;
. ‘Let the short-lived hours speed, :
Running smoothly, quickly by;
Till the darkness fades away, y
And the morning light we hail,
We will sing with cheer
. Songs of home, and son

ful hearts
gs of Yale.

25

A moment’s pause, some more clearing of throats,

and then the second verse:

“Stars of night, in silence yearning,
Pure and soft as maiden’s eyes,
Sweét the hour when your returning

Bids our merry songs arise.
See, the full moon, rising, weaves

Robes of light o’er tower and hall,
Through the slowly drifting leaves

Silver lances flash and fall.
Louder yet the chorus raise,

Friendship lasts when youth must fail.
Jolly, jolly are the days, |

‘Neath the elms of dear old Yale.”

Here and there toward the end a voice broke and
was silent, but, to tle last dying note, Merriwell’s won-
derful tenor rang clear and high above the others. He

was putting his whole heart into the song which seemed

to mean more to him to-night than it had ever meant
before. And he had to sing to keep down that ‘un-
pleasant choking feeling in his throat.

On one side of him stood Brad, quiet and silent, his
shoulder pressing against that of his chum, just as they
had made their way upward, shoulder to shoulder, in
the years which were passed. Close on the other side
was. Jim Graham, while, sitting crosslegged on the
Both of

them were glad it was dark. But' then, almost every-

ground, between them was Eric Fitzgerald.

body felt the same way. %

From that song they passed on to others. Swiftly
the minutes flew along, bringing the inevitable end
nearer and nearer. Already it was past midnight, and
many of them were to leave on an early train.

The moon sailed placidly on, looking serenely down
upon the scene she had seen repeated so many, many
times. Brighter and more distinctly loomed the bulk
of gray buildings, but the thick branches of the silent
elms left that to the last. It was a fitting culmination,
and most of them felt that after they had sung that
song it would be pretty hard to give voice to any
other. : .

But now the time had come. Softly at first, but gain-

ing yolume as they proceeded, the old familiar words >

rang out upon the silent campus. Old they might be,

but those men singing them with heart and soul, and

an intensity of feeling impossible to describe, put into

2

 
 

2 :
Sr re
Pe erp

icuaae-uabaiiihs antaeaunenteeraneanenammmene cneaemenmena

Pe hae

TIP TOP. WEEKLY.

them a thrilling, poignant meaning, and clothed them

with eternal, never-dying youth:

“Bright college years, with pleasures rife,
The shortest, gladdest years of life,

How swiftly are ye gliding by!

Oh, why doth time so quickly fly!

The seasons come, the seasons go,

The earth is green, or white with snow,
But time and change shall not avail

To break the friendships formed at Yale.”

Bravely, unfalteringly, they took up the second

_verse:

“We all must leave this college home,
About the stormy world to roam;
But though the mighty ocean’s tide
Should us from dear old,Yale divide,
As round the oak the ivy twines

The clinging tendrils of its vines,

So are our hearts close bound to Yale
By ties of love that ne’er shall fail.”

There was no pause or hesitancy now. The voices

took up the last verse with scarcely a pause, strong,

vigorous, unbroken. It was the last time they would

sing “Dear Old Yale” as they were singing it now, and -

they meant to do it justice:

“Tn after life; should troubles rise

To cloud the blue of sunny skies,
- How bright will seem, thro’ memory’s haze,
The happy, golden, bygone days! _

Qh, let us strive that ever we

May let these words our watch cry bé,
Where’er upon life’s sea we sail:

‘For God, for Country, and for Yale!”

The last line was thundered. forth with an inspiring

sound, which sent queer shivers running up and down

various spines. The next instant Merriwell sprang to

his feet and faced the shadowy crowd.

“Now, fellows,” he cried, “lets give three good,

‘rousing cheers for the dear old class—God bless every

man init! And when we’ve gone our ways to-morrow,

-Jet’s try and think about the time when we're due for

_ our first reunion here, instead of looking back upon

fe: ® .

the days which are past. Are youready? Hip! Hip!

477

another one—Hip! Hip!

a : Khe echoes of the rousing cheer had scarcely died
) away, when ane ey captain stepped out before the

class. —

“Now, boys,” he said, “last of all we'll have a good
_ yell for Dick Merriwell, the best fellow that ever

“Remember the eight-twenty,”

brim full of interest and amazement.
July i one

The response was instant. As with one voice, the
cheer crashed out from those lusty lungs, rolling
through the old elms and echoing back from the sut-
rounding walls until the whole place seemed to ring
with it. It was their last tribute to the man they all
loved and honored more than any other; their parting
salute to the fellow who had never done an underhand
thing, nor showed a mean spirit, and whose name would
live on there long after he had departed. .

It touched Dick as nothing else had ever done, and
made him for the moment speechless. When he found ,
his voice he thanked them huskily, and then the crowd
broke up.

With many reminders of “See you to-morrow, Jack,”
“Don’t oversleep, you
and with laughing and joking to hide
their feelings, they drifted away to the dormitories.

Calmly, serenely, the silver moon mounted into the |
heavens. The elms begat to stir and rustle among
themselves, as if they were commenting on what they — |
had just seen. The ivy on the old stone walls whis-
pered back to them. The dappled spots of light flick-
ered and danced oddly on the trampled turf. :

Looking down upon it from the darkened window,
Dick thought he had never seen the place so beautiful
before. He sighed faintly, and smiled. !

“After all, Brad,” he said, in a low tone, “
each other.

old lobster,”’

we've got

That means a lot more than even this. 3
The Texan found his chum’s hand in re darkness
and gave it a squeeze.
“It sure does, partner,” he whispered fervently. . aa)
hear me talk!” .
THE END.

incidents of the tale. In the midst of the quiet siehe
ures of a jolly house party things Repponeg rR made

taxed the courage of brave 1 men almost to the ie a

ing ie We cannot tell you ne ver the “a

No. © 8 Ou

 
TIP TOP WEEKLY.

~~

 

 

 

Ag.ideat Fublication

NEW VORK, July 8, 1911.

TERMS TO TIP TOP WEEKLY MAIL SUBSCRIBERS.
Fi (Postage Free.)
Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5¢- Each.

One year ~.-----2---070r0 oo 77"
2 copies one year

1 copy two Years.----------""
oney order,

or express m
sent

letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At your ow” risk it

con, on, OF pos ordinary letter.
Receipts Receipt of your Sia is acknowledged by bere
9 Rumber on your label. If not correct you have not been proper: y
and should let us know at once.
STREET & SMI
79-89 Seventh Avenue,

TH, Publishers,
New York City.

DG. Swor
ae Serre’ | Proprietors.

 

 

 

——

The -.... GOOD MANNERS AT HOMIE.
ee ence of good manners 1s nowhere m
fective than in thé household, and, perhaps, nowhere more
henever familiarity exists, there is a tendency to eee

* Upon selfish conduct which the presence of strange :
Atarily produces. Many persons who are kind and cour
mer. SOMPany are rude and careless with those they love best.
50 says, “Good manners are thade up of petty sacrifices,
Certainly nothing can more thoroughly secure es,
 Segog of the family circle than the habit of making sma

Tes one f i thus learn good manners
or another. Children thus acquired will

st and most natural way, and habits 7
ave them. Courtesy ak "cindness will never lose their
*t of their charm, while all spurious imitations of them are
despised,
bee ————————— 3
OBSERVATION PARTIES. : A
servation parties” are the latest things * society. 48
ation Party affords a great deal of amusement, and, .
ig displays the fact that few persons are either goo
TVers or have good memories. The members of the eee
Party are asked by the host to observe the furnishings © “i
fable, for instance. Then they are given five minutes to
down a list of the articles that are 0” the table. me —
tec 10S€ memory is best, and who can write down within e
h ntibed time—five minutes, say—the largest number of aray,
€ table is awarded some sort of a prize. Pe -OUS ee ae
gq’ te other evening, one young lady was able to remi™ c

‘Tite the n articles that were on a BIRR
amen of: ut: sever! f social entertainment

¥ he “ob . » f m O

Vv servation party” as a tor! ‘he

. I and may be useful in assisting persons to form.
i’ : habit of correct observation.

OT

ite.

_ HALLUCINATIONS OF

bane bears a remarkable reputatio
Houlton relat

n for creating the most
Ordie. that some
iF tdinary hallucinations. Doctor ; eenctoened
| who ate the roots by mistake for
NOnastery into a lunatic asylum. dnigh
Monk tang the bell for matins at midnig t read, others
Community who attended some © one ee nd seine read
ed the letters were running about  aboemn om from these
+ Was not in their books. Even the exhalations

i ects.
~ Out very poisonous flowers produce these ete’

parsnips

t, and of those

HOW HE PAID HIS PASSAGE.

By W. BERT FOSTER.

‘“Come now, hustle out o’ here.”
“I ain't doin’ any harm.”
“You git out, I say, an’ don’t ye talk back to me!”
“Please, mister " \
“Git !”
Big Bill Bronson, the dock watchman, raised hi
; , tne sh
threateningly, and the forlorn little chap whom he bad eddbeuee
in such rough tones, climbed painfully out of the box of straw
in bas had taken refuge, as he hoped, for the night
“We don’t want no young wharf rats ‘like ou ro oa
big Bill ee “So git along with you.” : eet
t was still early in the evening. Perhaps if Terry C
; 0 . é y Carson. had
waited until it had grown darker he might have ensconced himself
in the box unobserved, and spent the night in comparative com-
fort. | But he had been so tired that he had risked seeking his
ere ag ve the above result.
or days he had tramped the streets of the seaport town
looking ne ann et: Re seemed to want rh or. his
services. 1e past fortnight had been a terri iencé
cater trible experience to
“I warn’t goin’ for to do any harm, sir,” h i i
out of the box of straw. re ene
“I dunno whether you was or not,” i ee :
i » growled Bill. “There’s
too many of thé like o’ you ’round. Come
Serna feuthevcenit , move on, or I'll hand
At this threat Terry had to give up all ho i i
and Ors painfully away. . : Se ee
“IT just hate this town,” he muttered. “There ain’t in i
ES I —— shige get away from it, so I ee or
is eyes wandered across the broad docks to the shippi -
Sere are vessels all. Cee Pe
ST: Avig could get aboard one o’ them boat Pog i
away from this mean old place.” oe
It was not too dark yet to reveal the decks
; 5 pretty clearly. The
fading light revealed Terry’s sturdy figure, too. H
well-built chap of fifteen. ae a eee /
“Jimminy crickets! I b’lieve I'll try it,” he muttered, af
: Pea 3 eee ht ’ Peay
instant’s silent scrutiny of the individual oh the quarter of the
nearest craft, and then, despite the fact that big Bill, the watch-
man, shouted after him, he turned away from the great gate
which was the only entrance by land to the dock, and marched
up the narrow gang-plank to the vessel’s deck.

Captain Josh Carlton, who was pacing the deck, with a huge

' cigar between his teeth, suddenly became conscious of the pres-

ence of somebody beside himself upon the qua i
voice, which piped out: - eetity BS eee

oe I hn ,

“Who the dickens are you?” demanded the captain, i i

j ptain, 1n surprise
gazing down upon young Terry from his heigh ix- Ms :

“Terrence Carson.” , * ight of six foot four.

eo xo a eh a what d’ye want here?”

erry drew himself up to his full height. His “ a
was a tender point. “ eee

“I want to ship,” he declared.

“You want to ship! haw! haw! haw!”

Captain Carlton fairly shook with laughter.

‘Why, your head hardly reaches the rail,” he said, taking the
boy by the arm and twisting him about with his face to the
shore. “Now, sonny, that’s the way ashore. You git!” ,

Poor Terry, urged by the captain’s vigorous shove, walked
sew ace to a wee re eee to the street. Once outside
the gate, he stampe is illy-shod foot determi
rough pavement. EET SRE

“T just will do it!” he declared. “The ; i

, y can’t keep me off their

old vessel, however hard they try. I’m goi i
Canine, Tam, y going to sea in the
Thus it happened that, half an hour later, wh i
1 ’ , when Captain Carl-
ton left the Calypso and went uptown to look seer the men
whom the shipping agent had gotten together for him, leaving
the vessel in sole charge of the steward, a ragged figure, sneaking
along beside the piled up cases on the dock, darted across the
gangplank and onto the Calypso’s deck.

Neither the steward nor Bill Bronson, the burly dock watch-
man, saw him, for they were conversing very earnestly together.
forward. Terry was totally unfamiliar with a ship, having al-
ways lived back in the country ; so he made the mistake of enter-
ing the cabin for concealment. '

It was a nicely furnished apartment, for Captain Carlton was
quite a fastidious man, and at one end a heavy curtain hung

.

of

 
 

28 TIP

before a small lavatory. Behind this curtain Terry darted. He
had heard Bill say that the Calypso would sail early the next
morning, and he believed that once the vessel got out of the har-
bor, she would not be put about for the sake of landing him
again.

Hardly had he ensconced himself behind this drapery, when
he detected the sound of a footstep softly descending the com-
panion stairs. A moment later the steward, a low-browed, snaky-
looking Italian, appeared. It struck Terry at once that the man’s
manner seemed odd. He appeared to be fearful of the presence
of some unknown person, and glanced apprehensively around
oe as he stepped into the centér of the room under the swinging
amp. :

And what followed made the boy’s stispicions a surety. The
Italian had not entered the cabin during the absence of the cap-
tain and officers for any legitimate purpose.

_ Assuring “himself, as he supposed, that he was unobserved,

‘the steward crept softly from door to door, and opening each,
peered into the several staterooms for the purpose of seeing if
any were by chance occupied. Confident that this was not the
one went back to the foot of the companionway and whistle
shrilly. r

Evidently this was a‘signal, for at once a heavy step crossed the
deck and descended to the cabin. Terry, round-eyed with be-
wilderment’at these proceedings, peered out from behind the cur-
tains and discovered that the newcomer was none other than the
watchman, Bill Bronson.

“Eet ees alla quiet, Bill,” the steward declared reassuringly, as
big Bill glanced suspiciously about. “Not a soula here. We ees
alla right.” ©

Bill growled in reply, and stepped at once to the center of the
room, shoving aside a heavy chart table which stood there. Be-
neath the table was a square of matting which seemed but lightly
tacked down, for with one twitch the watchman ripped it off the
- floor, revealing a trapdoor beneath.

“Dere she ees, Bill,” exclaimed the Italian exultantly.

_ He stooped and raised the trap hastily. The burly watchman
squeezed himself into the hole with much grunting and profanity,
and having gotten his head below the level of the floor, began at
once to hand out packages, each wrapped carefully in black
enamel cloth.

“Work quick, Tonio, No tellin’ when them fellers’ll git back.
The boat’s right under the quarter.”

The steward’s reply was to gather several packages in his arms
and hastily ascend to the deck. »

Terry, meanwhile, had been doing what he called “some tall
thinking.” He knew that something remarkably shady was in
“progress. He could not guess what was in the packages, but that
it was something valuable he did not doubt. The treacherous
steward and watchman were robbing the Calypso’s commander,
or her owners.

Quick as a flash, when Antonio had disappeared, Terry darted
out from behind the curtain and slammed down the trapdoor,
_ shooting the strong bolt at once into place, thus securing the
trap firmly. Big Bill was a prisoner. .

The muffled sounds, of the watchman’s voice could not reach
the deck, but Terry reached it almost at a single bound. An-
tonio’s figure was faintly visible as he leaned over the rail tug-

ing at the painter of the small boat, which had become fouled.
_ The peer had been laid on the deck while he was thus en-
gaged.

-” Terry’s mind worked quickly, and the moment his feet touched

‘the deck he saw his chance for overcoming the second river

pirate. He lowered his head and charged across the deck like a
olt from a cannon.

_ His head caught Antonio just below the waistband, and al-

tin though the shock well-nigh dislocated his neck and sent him flat
upon the deck, it also drove the light body of the astonished

steward flying overboard, where he landed frog fashion in the’
dirty dock water. | . ;

_ He might have come back and easily overpowered the es

released his companion, but Antonio didn’t_know that.

and
ever

i for an instant doubting that the gigantic Captain Carlton had

returned unexpectedly and kicked him overboard, the steward
swam hastily to a neighboring pier and made good his escape.
Not so big Bill, however. Captain Carlton and his two officers |

found him almost suffocated in the secret compartment, while,

a greatly demoralized boy stood guard above with a boat hook
Prmlanciot ig Mieavy Qs Hsisel ly! F007) MON eRe NC er ee

- When Bill had been pulled out of his prison and marched
off under a guard of two blue-coated policemen toa much safer.
place of durance, Captain Carlton turned to young Terry,

oie 43

spruce fir tree, and the blossoms of wild clover.

‘with several feet of snow on the ground. Everything moved on

TOP WEEKLY.

“Well, shorty,” he said jovially, placing his big hands
boy’s shoulders, “so _you’re the lad who wanted to ship as an A.
B., eh? Got over it?” +9

“No, sir. 1 came down here intending to hide away till after
you had sailed. I want to get away from this town, so I do.”

‘And you shall. You've saved the owners a pretty penny,” he
added, touching the packages strewn about the floor, with his
foot, and I reckon they won’t begrudge you your passage.
guess he’s paid his fare, sure enough, ain’t he, boys?”

And the two inferior officers agreed warmly. However, before
that first trip was over, Terry had made himself so useful to
the Calypso's commander that he made many more on the same
vessel. In fact, he is still with the good ship, and is probably one
of ee youngest second mates sailing out of the port of Ri
mouth.

QUEER THINGS TO EAT.

_ At the Department of Agriculture, in Washington, hidden away
in an obscure corner, is an odd sort of exhibit of queer foods
eaten by out-of-the-way people.
from the roasted leaves of a plant allied to the century plant.
Another kind of bread is from a dough of juniper berries.
These are relished by some tribes of Indians, while others manu-
facture cakes out of different kinds of bulbs. The prairie In-
dians relish a dish of wild turnips, which civilized people woul
not be likely to enjoy at all. In the great American desert the
screw beans,” which grow on mesquite bushes, are utilized for |
food. Soap berries furnish an agreeable diet for some savages
in this country, while in California the copper-colored aborigines
do not disdain the seeds of salt grass.
Digger Indians collect pine nuts, which are seeds of a certain
species of pine—sometimes called “pifions”—by kindling fires
against the trees, thus causing the nuts to fall out of the cones.
oo oa Soca bts a ovr he ce mane from the bark, serving
3 e seeds o j
shape of mush by Indians in ae SPaieenernes ee

In addition to all these things the exhibit referred to includes - tf

a jar of pulverized crickets, which are eaten in that form by the
Indians of Oregon. They are roasted, as are likewise grass-
hoppers and even slugs. These delicacies are cooked in a
being arranged in alternate layers with hot stones
thus pee the i ;
mixed with pounded acorns or berries, th _in this
way being kneaded into cakes and dried tn er cane ae

Among other curious things used for f
flower seeds, grape seeds, flowers of cattails, moss from the
The exhibit
embraces a number of models representing grape seeds enor-
mously enlarged. It is actually possible to tell the species of @
grape by the shape of the seed. There is a jar of red willow

bark which Indians mix with tobacco for the sake of economy. —

This, however, is only one of a thousand plants that are utilized”
in a similar fashion. feat

HAZING THE PROFESSOR,

A party of smart young students in a small town in Kentucky fe

‘ ORRIATE hazing their new —
teacher. It was decided to invite him colatconmaned them coon oh

last winter conceived the_ brilliant idea of

hunting some night, and after leading him about in the wood
until completely bewildered, to abandon him, and leave him find
his way back to the village or remain in the woods all night
Now, as the pedagogue was a stranger, and weighed nearly tw
hundred pounds, this scheme seemed too funny for anything, and
many a hearty laugh did they have over it. The invitation was
given and accepted, and the appointed night came, cold and clear,
as per arrangement, the professor seeming guileless and unst
pecting, but from beneath his puffy eyelids oie and thes Weamed
an amused twinkle. The party had plodded through the snow
for several hours, and the ringleader was about to give tl
signal to disperse, when the professor sank to the ground
a groan of agony. , KL ee rie

“Oh, oh!” he moaned; “oh, one of my attacks again!

boys, for mercy’s sake, get me to a place of shelter, o
‘dead man!” Tha a ie eat

Here they were five miles
an apparently dying man on the
Something must be done, and quickly, too. A litter w
improvised, with coats for cushions, and the suffering
gently laid thereon, and homeward they started, a

Talk about scared boys!
nearest house, and

There is a loaf of bread made ;

Also in California the ~

neh
: After esta On
are dried and ground to powder. They are _

a

ifn

,

‘y

upon the Hh:

verso.

7 3 .
¢ eee gee per =nr-acenaeeeseseraeer =a aReENERENEIT EERE

bos % . . As- ; of
\siniboines used a kind of seed to stop bleeding at the nose. |

ood are acorns, sun-

 
x ‘ " Pe Ee De ms o, a z

~~ —~-

all +h
ae through luck. They were

Wey by the persistency wit

 

TIP TOP

rectical jokers, taking turns at carr ing their massive preceptor.
and Sounds were heard but the rrobad treathing of the protestot
t ore grunts of the students, who were straining eey, ee
Keep from jostling the patient. After what seeme ne
ag of miles, the weary, bedraggled fellows carefu Oe :
th their burden, to snatch a few minutes’ rest before enter-

he town, which w seh ¢ throw, when, what was
1 was within a stones ; f
he ‘ce leisurely from his com-

But one word: The
kes I wouldn’t select an

Bess to see the professor rise
€ couch, and coolly observe:

Uch obliged, boys! much obliged!
‘time I wished to play practical J0
ne for a subject.”

€ boys are not over it yet.

i

“GRUMBLERS.”
believe in luck. They

There at

"ere are thousands of persons who 4

. 8enerally unfortunate themselves, OT, 45 they ee ne

eel themselves sinking, an et thelt vd, believing this,

born unlucky, aa inst

Y make no particular effort to stem the tide a eeu ge yan
f and so drift into hopeless failure. ahey We Fortune be-

oo man to see what this mythical Goddess Tab which he

a bo him, but fail to note the amount OF = OF

ers to secure the golden blessings © the & ‘hat 4

Why is it that ae people are lind to the fact, that ate ey

, ec ey are needed everywhere to wit success. Oy hard anc
= to accumulate wealth they mus hose who are
Revard? No prizes come to ae ems
thin’ for something to turn up.

wing but luck. To their eyes, enerey, 2

M are worthless unless the lucky star shine

They look on

pa hese people are, constitutionally, ee in life. One 0

ark side and thi ey have a
ound ‘an ott tee hens worth ee cents.
ang it,” said he, “that is always my Uy"
found it, it would have been a quartet ose Nar ste,
ortals who never
death of his
, with house, Jelena
a paying asi neces, 0,2 gold is
“and paying business; but he sold, lost by ae Sal vans
home, and his next—always losing, until he Page
Very poor, Gerrit Smith, who was giv
in small parcels to landless men, 84V
ut took the precaution to deed 1 Oe ek
On the restless man was very happy 1 os he pee
N grew tired of it and wanted to sell out. Whee i hones
it was not in his power to render himself an ray
ne: he exclaimed, in great bitterness: i
>mith has ruined me!” "
© believed this, and never forgave the oe ae eg 2
d that trade which would surely have made aca
these idle dreamers would seek for t oe a ean
*Y would find it in hard work, patient apP ra any Se ancora:
stent. There is no such thing 6 uck; but. steacy” stances,
rosing labor tells. A happy combination Of Cre dustry,
~8ht about nine times out of ten by S a 3
©0 often mistaken for g0° ck. Som
ything they touch seems to tur -
eect closely we shall find tha
od ate, Sold. We shall find ther $0
cc ious, - unti
ie Sment, sagacious, Bi Reh they
€alth never comes to the idler. Misdir
Secure it, but if ‘t Sones ‘at all it must be

ue Special effort.
heen TS ;
INFORMATION FOR PARENTS.
«> ©COnomi sks : se wearing out the
fpioW can + eee ‘sy fittle boy. from wearin’ ee
Is pants?” ; So aeld “ever since Eve
t conundrum has been ia, We only know
baw tht otae Paty about youns foul can make his
sure ways: You can kill the boy, wi aay) vould be
's without any knees; but perhaps the Dethe knees out, if
tittle boy about the same ‘size to woin it.
Such objections to your ows bey Sera

their labors,
follow it uP.
cted energy may fail

knees

nie bye

deserved or won by’,

RRO OO RY nT PT

WEEKLY.

APPLAUSE

This is the ‘‘Get Together’? Department. Here, every week, the
“Tip Top’’ friends chat with the editor and with each other. The
“Tip Top” family knows no geographical boundaries: all over the
great round earth, from North to South, the members stand shoulder
to shoulder with Burt L. Standish for truth, honor, strength, courage :
and clean living. Many letters are received—letters of comradeehip,
agen and See criticism—and while we have not sufficient space

or their immediate publication i
cui ok , they are all welcomed, in turn, to

Clean and Good.

ie have been reading Tre Top for about three mo th ike

it very much. I like Dick, Frank, Bart, Brad, Jack Ready, on

_— ay I like Tip Top because it is a clean, good, tip-to-
ate weekly. : 1
Nooksack, Wash. ae

Has Loaned Hundreds.

In one, year’s time I have read nearly all the back n
of Tip Tor, and quite a few of the Medal Library. Tae
loaned hundreds of copies to boy friends of mine, who thor-
oughly enjoy them. The last Tip Tor reminds me of myself
practice the high jump every day, end am fairly good at it.
oe ue tenets ee ne I close with a cheer for

urt L. Standish and Street mith. 1 FE

ee a. Joun F. Hartican.

A Gonstant Reader.

‘Being a constant reader of Tip Top, havin ast tw
hundred numbers consecutively, and nearly She bai vee
to tell you that I think Tip Top is the best ever. The series of
stories in Nos. 680, 681, 682, and 683, written about» Will West
alias Bill the Bruiser, I thought was one of Mr. Standish’s best
series. Why don’t we hear more about the girls, also some of
Dick’s old Fardale chums? With best wishes for Frank, Dick
Brad, Bart, Bruce, Biggy, Joseph, Tommy, Bouncer Claxton,
Darrell, and the rest, I am always a loyal T1p-Topper

Allegheny County, Pa. Ww. ¥, S$.

Straight and Honorable.

Having read Tip Top for some time, I wi :
from this corner of the country. Tip Fdaainedt* ME ao
magazine I ever read. It is my favorite because it contains
stories of. superior quality. It also teaches by Dick Merriwell’s
life, which, if taken for example, will make one straight and
honorable. I love to read of Dick’s baseball and football vic-
tories so well that I cannot keep them to myself. I have to show
them to my companions ; and now about thirty of them are |
aS He i NG are Dick, Brad, Robert, Hal, |
une, Voris, audia, Bart, ;
ead and Frank. O. S. WILLIAMS.

From Dakota.

I have been reading Trp Top for over bud tats

ears, re
about forty New Medal Library books, and ‘iad hee ae Eee
I am holding a homestead in North Dakota and do not have
many neighbors, and what I have are all foreigners. I have had

no chance to do any work for Tip Top, but hope to some day. _ oe

My father and mother both read Tir T
: Top, and my two little
nephews, seven and five yeats of age, enjoy iivicke some one —

read to them about Frank, Dick, and the rest of the boys. —
the ones I like best are Frank, Bart, Brace, J Kole Read ee ety

Ted Smart, Hal, and Brad. I believe the last i vorite,
for < is just the kind I like: wild and Ssally, bad vers penta +e
ae arg i  _Buancue E. Ges, |

~ Lignite, North Dakota. Bees ae . ; P

 
 

va .
Fi as a REY TES SE RTA

i

1

‘each day should I use the same?

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

 

» Vialks with your chum

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

Frank Merriwell’s Book of Physical Development.

The Art of Boxing and Self-defense, by Prof. Donovan.

U. S. Army Physical Exercises, revised by Prof. Donovan.

Physical Health Culture, by Prof. Fourmen.

 

Daily Exercises.

Pror. FourMEN: I am 17 years of age, and my measurements
are as follows: Weight, 133 pounds; chest, 32 inches; height, 5
feet 10 inches; neck, 13 inches; waist, 28 inches; thighs, 18%
inches; calf, 13% inches. Please point out my weak parts.
Would it be all right to use a chest-weight machine to develop
my shoulders, and dumb-bells for my arms? If so, how long
DEWak:

Athens, Tenn.

Your measurements are nearly all somewhat under the stand-
ard requirements. By careful attention to training and diet you
should try to add several inches to your chest, neck, waist, thighs,
and calves. And you should gain twenty-five pounds in weight.
Do not attempt strenuous exercises until your development is
improved, but use the chest weights and dumb-bells freely. A
half hour, night and morning, is a good time allowance, but do

~~ not exercise after you begin to feel really fatigued. Eat plenty

,

of nourishing food, drink lots of water, and abstain rigidly froia
tea, coffee, stimulants, and tobacco. '

To Reduce Weight.

Pror. FoprmMen: Having read your valuable advice to others
in the Tre Tor WEEKLY, I wish to ask a few questions regarding
myself. I have had several chances to become a boxer, but I
don’t care to accept them unless I can pull down my weight. I
am 19 years old; 5 feet 6 inches in height; and weigh 145 pounds
stripped.
how to reduce? My legs are extremely large. Can you tell me
how to make them slim? I have been told bicycle riding is good.

Boston, Mass. Harry MANSFIELD.

You make a great mistake in thinking you are too heavy for

boxing. Weight, in the art of self-defense, isa great desidera- —

tum. As a matter of fact your weight is but little above the
standard, and you should never reduce it below 133 pounds.
One hundred and forty pounds would be considered quite nor-
mal, Your calves, in proportion to your height, should. measure
about 14 inches. If they are larger than that you probably carry
an excess of fat, and you can reduce it by careful attention to
diet and exercise. For the reduction of your girth you should
use those exercises which affect the muscles of the abdomen and
back. The United States Army setting-up exercises are’ very
valuable for such training, and chest weights, Indian clubs, and
dumb-bells are advisable. Bicycle riding is excellent, and, if

followed with reasonable moderation, will bring about splendid

results in training.

_ calf, 12 inches.

That Tired Feeling.

-Pror. FourMEN: Being a reader of Trp Top ever since I was
able to read, I am going to take the liberty of asking a few
Phe questions about my measurements, et cetera. Age, 15 years 3

months; height, 5 feet 2 inches; weight, 109 pounds; chest, 31

‘inches; waist, 31 inches; neck, 12% inches; thigh, 15% inches;

‘Do you think I would make a good boxer? I

I am rather stout around the body. Can you tell me

Mth

do not: smoke or use intoxicating drinks. I cannot run very far
without getting winded, and although I go to bed early I always
have that tired feeling. What can I do to remedy this?
Chicago, Il. ArTHUR M.
Your measurements are so unusually good that it seems odd
that you should not enjoy better general health. The most
logical explanation, from the information you give, is that your
diet is not properly regulated. It may be that you eat too freely
of the various forms of sugar and starch. It would be well to
vary your present diet experimentally. If you are eating large
quantities of meat, try a more vegetable diet for a while, eating
all the seasonable fresh vegetables and the health-giving fruits.
Coffee and tea are very harmful to certain people, and if you use
them it would be well to abstain from them for a while. Above
all, drink lots of water between meals. There is nothing like it
for the elimination of waste from the system. The matter of
becoming a good boxgr is entirely in your own hands. If the
sport is attractive to you, you should go into it with all your
energy and enthusiasm. A man of good physique can excel in |
almost any sport which excites genuine interest.

To Change the Voice.

Pror. FourMEN: Is it true that a small instrument has been °
invented to fit into the roof of the mouth so that when you speak
it will make your voice sound like a girl’s voice? Ii so please
let me know and tell me where I can buy one, as I am to take
a girl’s part in vaudeville. VERN SHORTSLEEVE.

Burlington, Vt.

There are numerous mechanical devices sold by dealers in ;
novelties and trick paraphernalia to change the quality of the
singing and speaking voice. The old-fashioned Punch-and-Judy
whistle is a common arid simple device, and it gives the voice a
peculiar high-pitched and sibilant quality which is very amusing,
but might not be suitable for the part you wish to play in vaude-
ville. There is probably no artificial means of imitating a girl’s
voice of clear, pure quality. If the work is to be in comedy or
burlesque you can easily procure a Punch-and-Judy whistle or
some modern, improved device from one of the many dealers in
theatrical novelties, whose advertisements you will find in the _
current magazines. A boy’s voice is similar in quality to a girl’s,
and in serious work should need no artificial aid; and some “men
can produce naturally a very clear falsetto voice in perfect imi-
tation of a high soprano. ,

Skating and Boxing.

Pror. Fourmen: I am a reader of Trp Tor, and would like to —
ask how I can increase my weight and what exercise I should
take. About all I get now is skating and boxing. Measure-
ments: Age, 16 years; weight, 108 pounds; chest, 31 inches;
thigh, 18 inches; calves, 12 inches; waist, 28 inches.

Soda Springs, Idaho. K, E. Gorton. .

You omitted the most important measurement of all, the
height, so it is impossible to give an opinion on your general
measurements. Those you have given would be very fair for a
boy 5 feet and 1 inch in height. Skating and boxing are ex-

’ cellent exercises, and should be followed with interest and care-

ful trairling, but the proper development of the physique requires
other exercises which are even more simple than those mentioned. —
Skating is necessarily a winter sport, and boxing is not altogether
enjoyable in extremely warm weather. What is the matter with —
baseball, tennis, and all the good out-of-door sports? And, in

. winter, why do you not make use of dumb-bells, chest weights, “ie,

Indian clubs, horizontal bars, and all the other valuable aids to
training that are available in almost every community? . By |
careful, systematic training with the simple apparatus at hand,
you will find: yourself becoming a better boxer and a better
skater than when you devoted all your time to the actual practice |
‘in those sports. , Suet

 

 
Beater Up! PLAY BALL! ee Out!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TIP TOP CHAMPIONSHIP
- TOURNAMENT OF 1911

—— es

| eS
__TOURNAN and the TIP TOP Pennant 3
complete equipment of uniforms

|| Two chances for a

TOURNAMENT CLOSES OCTOBER 15th

| ie ee er. es
FIRST—The team that plays the greatest number of games, scores the most runs

and loses the fewest games will be declared the TIP TOP CHAMPIONSHIP
TEAM OF 1911, and will receive A HANDSOME CHAMPIONSHIP PENNANT

OF FINE SILK, bearing an appropriate inscription. In addition, the team will
receive A COMPLETE EQUIPMENT OF NINE HIGH-GRADE UNIFORMS,
consisting of cap, shirt, breeches, belt, stockings and shoes. The suit will be’

of gray, trimmed with the colors of the club, and lettered with the insignia of

the club. The shoes will be of fine black calfskin with steel spikes.

~SECOND—The team showing the next highest aera will be declared the
winner of second place in the tournament, and will receive a prize of the same

equipment of uniforms. : ,

CONDITIONS OF THE CONTEST

ipeting team the manager must fill out a certificate, like that

he season by a con
aster or a reputable news dealer, as provided in the certificate
’

For each ¢: layed during t .
game playe¢ heen dorsement of his postm
to this, newspaper counts of the game should be sent with th
, ; e

below, sign it, obtain t In addition
er : . In [CATE I I
and mail it to this office LAST CERTIFICATE OF THE SEASON MUST BE MAILED ON OR

aneren if posal bie a isth
RE OCTOBE : hatti ;
. . atting and fielding av f 3
Tn : 1s, the hatuns g average of the teams w :
the. event of a tie ting teams are therefore advised to preserve the detailed score of re nk ok

The captains of compe :
to send it to this office unless requested to do so.

TOP BASEBALL TOURNAMENT OF 1911 1 muses OF RAM a
ro CLUB CERTIFICATE . miphici te acca ete tet Sen egos ie rhe
Name banal sal Ahern rd Ciao em a

 

 

 

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Se ALL, OF THE BACK NUMBERS OF
.
j
4
246—F rank Merriwell’s Mastery. 565—Frank Merriwell’s Horse. 646—Dick Merriwell in the Wilds. 724—Frank Merriwell, the A 5
247—-Frang Merriwell’s Dilemma. 566—Frank Merriwell’s Intrusion. 647—Dick Merriwell’s Red Comrade Ready. oy es e
249—IFrank Merriwell's Search. 567—Frank Merriwell’s Bluff. 648—Frank Merriwell’s: Ranch. 725—Frank Merriwell in Diamond /
250—Frank Merriwell’s Ring. 568—Dick Merriwell’s Regret. 649—Frank Merriwell in the Saddle and.
251—F rank Merriwell’s Party. 569—Dick Merriwell’s Silent Work. 650—Frank Merriwell’s Brand. 726—Frank Merriwell’s Desperate ©
253—Frank Merriwell’s Skill. 570—Dick Merriwell’s Arm. 651—Frank Merriwell’s Red Guide shance.
254—Frank Merriwell’s Club. 571—Dick Merriwell’s Skill. _ 652—Dick Merriwell’s Rival. 727—Frank Merriwell’s Black Ter-
255—F rank Merriwell’s Scheme. 572—Dick Merriwell’s Magnetism. 653—Dick Merriwell’s Strength. ror.
469>—-Frank Merriwell’s Retaliation. 573—Dick Merriwell’s System. 654—Dick Merriwell’s Secret Work 728—Frank Merriwell Again on
485—Dick Merriwell 1n Manila. 574—Dick Merriwell’s Salvation. | 655—Dick Merriwel-'s Way. the Slab. i
4£6—Dick Merriwell Marooned. 575—Dick Merriwell’s Twirling. 656—Frank Merriwell’s Red Visitor 729—Frank Merriwell’s Hard Game 4
488—Dick Merriwell, Gap-Stopper. 576—Dick Merriwell’s Party. 657—Frank Merriwell’s Rope. 730—Frank Merriwell’s Six-in-hand 4
489—Dick Merriwell’s Sacrifice Hit 577—Dick Merriwell’s Backers. 658—Frank Merriwell’s Lesson. 731—Frank Merriwell’s Duplicate. 4
490—Dick Merrtwell’s Support. 578—Dick Merriwell’s Coach. 659—Frank Merriwell’s Protection 732—Frank Merriwell on Rattle- a
40)1-——Dick Merriwell’s Stroke. 579—Dick Merriwell’s Bingle. 660—Dick Merriwell’s Reputation. js snake Ranch. q
49°-—Dick Merriwell Shadowed. 580—Dick Merriwell’s Hurdling. 661—Dick Merriwell’s Motto. 738—Frank Merriwell’s Sure Hand i”
493—Dick Merriwell’s Drive. 581—Dick Merriwell’s Best Work. 662—Dick Merriwell’s Restraint. 734—Frank Merriwell’s Treasure
494—-Dick Merriwell’s Return. 582—Dfck Merriwell’s Respite. 663—Dick Merriwell’s Ginger. ; Map. 4
495—Dick Merriwell’s _ Restoration. 583—Dick MerriweW’s Disadvantage 664—Dick Merriwell’s Driving. 735—Frank Merriwell, Prince of —
496—Dick Merriwell’s Value. 584—Dick Merriwell Beset, 665—Dick Merriwell’s Good Cheer. the Rope. ;
497 —Dick Merriwell’s Dukes.” 586—Dick Merriwell’s Distrust. 666—Frank Merriwell’s Theory. 736—Dick Merriwell, Captain of
498—Dick Merriwell’s Drop Kick. 587—Dick Merriwell, Lion-Tamer. 667—Frank Merriwell’s Diplomacy. the Varsity. y
499—Dick Merriwell’s Defeat. 588—Dick Merriwell’s Camp-site. 668—Frank Merriwell’s Encour- 737—Dick Merriwell’s Control. i
500—Dick Merriwell’s Chance. 589—Dick Merriwell’s Debt. agement. | i 738—Dick Merriwell’s Back Stop. ial
501—Dick Merriwell’s Stride. 590—Dick Merriwell’s Camp-Mates 669—Frank Merriwell s Great Work 739—Dick Merriwell’s Masked En- )
502—Dick Merriwell’s Wing-Suit. -591—Dick Merriwell’s Draw. 670—Dick Merriwell’s Mind. | emy.
503—Dick Merriwell’s Skates. 592—Dick Merriwell’s _Disapproval. 671—Dick Merriwell’s “Dip. 740—Dick Metriwell’s Motor Car.
504—Dick Merriwell’s Four Fists. 593—Dick Merriwell’s Mastery. 672—Dick Merriwell's Rally. _ 741—Dick Merriwell’s Hot Pursuit. 1
505—Dick Merriwell’s Dashing Game 594—-Dick Merriwell’s Warm Work 673—Dick Merriwell’s Flier. 742—Dick Merriwell at Forest Lake {
506—Frank Merriwell’s Tigers, 595—Dick Merriwell’s ‘Double 674—Frank Merriwell’s Bullets. | 743—Dick Merriwell in Court. 3
508—Frank Merriwell’s Flying Fear Squeeze.” 675—Frank Merriwell Cut Off. 744—Dick Merriwell’s Silence. a
509—Dick Merriwell in Maine. 596—Dick Merriwell’s Vanishing. | 676—Frank Merriwell’s Ranch Boss 745—Dick Merriwell’s Dog.
510—Dick Merriwell’s Polo Team. 597—Dick Merriwell Adrift. 677—Dick Merriwell’s Equal. 736—Dick Merriwell’s Subterfuge. :
511—Dick Merriwell in the Ring. 598—Dick Merriwell’s Influence. 678—Dick Merriwell’s Development. 147 —Dick Merriwell’s Enigma. f
512—Frank Merriwell’s New Idea. 599—Frank Merriwell’s Worst Boy. 679—Dick Merriwell’s Bye. 748—Dick Merriwell Defeated. 4
513—Frank Merriwell’s Trouble. 600—Frank Merriwell’s Annoyance 680—KFrank I<erriwell’s Zest. agp pick Merriwell’s “Wing.”
514—-Frank Merriwell’s Pupils. 601—Frank Merriwell’s Restraint. 681—Frank Merriwell’s Patience. 50—Dick Merriwell’s Sky ase.
515—Dick Merriwell’s: Satisfaction 602—Dick Merriwell Held Back. 682—Frank Merriwell’s Pupil. 751—Dick Merriwell’s Pick-ups.
516—Dick Merriwell’s Discernment. 603—Dick Merriwell in the Line. 683—Frank Merriwell’s Fighters. a3 pick Merriwell on the Rocking R 7
'517—Dick Merriwell’s Friendly Hand 604—Dick Merriwell’s Drop Kick. 684—Dick Merriwell at the “Meet (oe Dick Merriwell’s Penetration.
518—Frank Merriwell’s New Boy. 605—Frank Merriwell’s Air Voyage. 685—Dick Merriwell’s Protest. den Dick Merriwell’s Intuition. ca
519—F rank Merriwell’s Mode. 606—Frank Merriwell’s Auto Chase. 686—Dick Merriwell in the Mara- Ape. pick Merriwell’s Vantage. a.
_ §620—Frank Merriwell’s Aids. 607—Frank Merriwell’s Captive. non. ; a —Dick Merriwell’s Advice. ae
521—Dick Merriwell’s Visit. 608—Dick Merriwell’s Value. 687—Dick Merriwell’s Colors. 57—Dick Merriwell’s Rescue. J
522—-Dick Merriwell’s Retaliation. 609—Dick Merriwell Doped. 688—Dick Merriwell, Driver. 758—Dick Merriwell, American.
523—Dick Merriwell’s Rival. 610—Dick Merriwell’s Belief. 689—Dick Merriwellon the Deep. 759—Dick Merriwell’s Understand- 4
524—Frank Merriwell’s Young Crew 611—Frank Merriwell in the Mar- 690—Dick Merriwell in the Morth 76 ing. ’
525—Frank Merriwell’s Fast Nine. ket. Woods. : rey Ree Merriwell, Tutor. q
526—Frank Merriwell’s Athletic 612—Frank Merriwell’s Fight for 691—Dick ) erriwell’s Dandies. ,, 81—Dick Merriwell’s Quandary. Be:
y Field. Fortune. 692—Dick Merriwell’s “Skyscooter” 762—Dick Merriwell on the Boards. ,
527—Dick Merriwell’s Reprisal. 613—Frank Merriwell on Top. 693—Dick Merriwell in the Elk reecane Merriwell, Peacemaker. | 4
528—Dick Merriwell Dared. 614—Dick Merriwell’s Trip West. Mountains. z seh ene Merriwell’s Sway. q
529—Dick Merriwell’s Dismay. 615—Dick Merriwell’s Predicament 694—Dick Merriwell in Utah. o—Frank Merriwell’s Compre- a
530—Frank Merriwell’s Son. 616—Dick Merriwell in Mystery 695—Dick Merriwell’s Bluff. 7 hension. <a
531—Frank Merriwell’s Old Flock. Valley. 696—Dick Merriwell in the Saddle. 66—Frank Merriwell’s Young 7
532—Frank Merriwell’s House Party 617—Frank Merriwell’s Proposition 697—Dick Merriwell’s Ranch Friends CropaAtss+ 7 ; ; ‘
533—Dick Merriwell’s Summer Team 618—Frank Merriwell Perplexed. .698—Frank Merriwell at Phantom 767—Frank Merriwell’s Tact. ‘
534—Dick Merriwell’s Demand. 619—Frank Merriwell’s. Suspicion. os 768—-Frank Merriwell’s Unknown.
537—Frank Merriwell’s Proposal. 620—Dick Merriwell’s Gallantry. 699—Frank Merriwell’s Hold-back. os rank Merriwell’s Acuteness. a
-538—Frank Merriwell’s Spook- 621—Dick Merriwell’s Condition. 700—Frank Merriwell’s Lively Lads 770—Frank _Merriwell’s Young a
ae hunters. ~ 622—Dick Merriwell’s Stanéhness. 701—Frank Merriwell as Instructor Canadian. : s
539—Dick Merriwell’s Cheek. 623—Dick Merriwell’s Match. 702—Didk Merriwell’s Cayuse. 4 771—Frank Merriwell’s Coward. ‘ a
540—Dick Merriwell’s Sacrifice. 624—Frank Merriwell’s Hard Case 703—Dick Merriwell’s Quirt. 772—Frank Merriwell’s Perplexity.
541—Dick Merriwell’s Heart. 625—Frank Merriwell’s Helper. 704—Dick Merriwell’s Freshman 773—Frank, Merriwell’s Interven-
542—Frank Merriwell’s New Auto. 626—Frank Merriwell’s Doubts. Friend. on. e
548—Frank Merriwell’s Pride. 627—F rank Merriwell’s ‘‘Phenom.” 705—Dick Merriwell’s Best Form. 774—Frank Merriwell’s Daring Deed
544—Frank Merriwell’s Young 628—Dick Merriwell’s Stand. 706—Dick Merriwell’s Prank. 775—Frank Merriwell’s Succor. ital
Winners. 629—Dick Merriwell’s Circle. 707—Dick Merriwell’s Gambol. 776—Frank Merriwell’s Wit. .
545—Dick Merriwell’s Lead. 630—Dick Merriwell’s Reach. 708—Dick Merriwell’s Gun. 777—Frank Merriwell’s Loyalty. ne
546—Dick Merriwell’s Influence. 631—Dick Merriwell's Money. 709—Dick Merriwell at His Best. 778—Frank Merriwell’s Bold Play. . pee
547—Dick Merriwell’s Top Notch. 632—Dick Merriwell Watched. 710—Dick Merriwell’s Master Mind 779—Frank Merriwell’s Insight, ‘ ¥
548—Frank Merriwell’s Kids. 683—Dick Merriwell Doubted. 711—Dick Merriwell’s Dander. 780—Frank Merrtwell’s Guile. "4
549—Frank Merriwell’s Kodakers. 634—Dick Merriwell’s Distrust. 712*—Dick Merriwell’s Hope. 781—F rank Merriwell’s Campaign.
550—Dick Merriwell, Freshman. 635—Dick Merriwell’s Risk. 713—Dick Merriwell’s Standard. 782—Frank Merriwell in the Na-
551—Dick Merriwell’s Progress. 636—Frank Merriwell’s Favorite. 714—Dick Merriwell’s Sympathy. tional Forest.

 

552—Dick Merriwell, Half-back. 637—Frank Merriwell’s Young een Merriwell in Lumber 783—Frank Merriwell’s Tenacity.

 
 

5538—Dick Merriwell’s Resentment. Clippers. and. i 784—Dick Merriwell’s Self-sacrifice.
554—Dick Merriwell Repaid. 638—Frank Merriwell’s Steadying 716—Frank Merriwell’s Fairness. | 785—Dick Merriwell’s Close Shave.
_ 555—Dick Merriwell’s Staying Power Hand. | 717—Frank Merriwell’s Pledge. ¢86—Dick Merriwell's Perception. Da
556—Dick Merriwell’s “Push.” 6389—Frank Merriwell’s Record- 718—Frank Merriwell, the Man of 787—Dick Merriwell’s Mysterious =|
557—Dick Merriwell’s Running. Breakers. rit. 5 - Disappearance. 4
558—Dick Merriwell’s Joke. 640—Dick Merriwell’s Shoulder. 719—Frank Merriwell’s Return 7gg__nick . Morriwell’s Detective < 70a
559—Dick Merriwell’s Seven. 641—Dick Merriwell’s Desperate Blow. ; Work. : a.
560—Dick Merriwell’s Partner. Work. 720—Frank Merriwell’s Quest. 789—Dick Merriwell’s P He
561—Dick Merriwell in the Tank. 642—Dick Merriwell’s Example. 721-4Frank Merriwell’s Ingots. 790 Dick M ae et roof, ;
562—Frank Merriwell’s Captive. 643—Dick Merriwell At Gale’s Ferry 722—Frank Merriwell’s Assistance. {vV-—Ui¢ € rriwell’s Brain Work. A
563—Frank Merriwell’s Trailing. 644—Dick Merriwell’s Inspiration. 723--Frank  Merriwell at the 791—Dick Merriwell’s Queer Case. a
564—Frank Merriwell’s Talisman. 645—Dick Merriwell’s Shooting. Throttle. '  %92—Dick Merriwell, Navigator. a

    
    

 

  

ss PRICE, FIVE CENTS PER COPY

If you want any back numbers of our weeklies and cannot procure them from your news-dealer, they can be obtained direct ;

   

oe
ra

from this office. Postage-stamps, taken the same as money.

STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS, 79-89 SEVENTH AVE., NEW YORK

  

  
 
I

 

 

PARLY NUS BERS: OF. Pai

TIP TOP WEEKLY

WILL BE FOUND IN THE NEW MEDAL LIBRARY

 

 

A few years ago we were obliged to disappoint thousands of readers who wanted the
stories of the early adventures of Frank and Dick Merriwell which were published in Tip

Top, because we did not have copies of the numbers that contained them.

It was impossible

for us to reprint Tip Top Weekly, so we made the stories up in book form and published
them in the New Medal Library at intervals of about four weeks beginning with No. 150.
Here is a list of these splendid books which contain Nos. 1 to 509 of Tip Top

Weekly.

Our experience with these books has taught us that thousands of boys are

overjoyed at this opportunity to secure their favorite stories in a more compact and

permanent form.

150—Frank Merriwell’s School-days.
167—Frank Merriwell’s Chums.
178—Frank Merriwell’s Foes.
184—Frank Merriwell’s Trip West.
189—Frank Merriwell Down South.
193—Frank Merriwell’s Bravery.
197—Frank Merriwell’s Hunting Tour.
201—Frank Merriwell in Europe.
205—Frank Merriwell at_Yale.
209—Frank Merriwell’s Sports Afield.
213—Frank Merriwell’s Races.
217—Frank Merriwell’s Bicycle Tour.
225—Frank Merriwell’s Courage.
229—Frank Merriwell’s Daring.
233—Frank Merriwell’s Athletes.
237—Frank Merriwell’s Skill.
240—Frank Merriwell’s Champions.
244—Frank Merriwell’s Return to Yale.
247—Frank Merriwell’s Secret.
251—Frank Merriwell’s Danger.
254—Frank Merriwell’s Loyalty.
258—Frank Merriwell in Camp.
262—Frank Merriwell’s Vacation.
267—Frank Merriwell’s Cruise.
271—Frank Merriwell’s Chase.
276—Frank Merriwell in Maine.
280—Frank Merriwell’s Struggle.
284—Frank Merriwell’s First Job.
288—Frank Merriwell’s Opportunity.
292—Frank Merriwell’s Hard Luck.
296—Frank Merriwell’s Protégé.
300—Frank Merriwell on the Road.
304—Frank Merriwell’s Own Company.
308—Frank Merriwell’s Fame. |
312—Frank Merriwell’s College Chums.
316—Frank Merriwell’s Problem.
320—Frank Merriwell’s Fortune.
324—Frank Merriwell’s New Comedian.
328—Frank Merriwell’s Prosperity.
332-—_Frank Merriwell’s Stage Hit.
336—Frank Merriwell’s Great Scheme.
340—Frank Merriwell in England.
344—Frank Merriwell on the Boulevards.
348—Frank Merriwell’s Duel.
352—Frank Merriwell’s Double Shot.
356—Frank Merriwell’s Baseball Victories
359—Frank Merriwell’s Confidence.

434—Frank

Price, Fifteen Cents per copy.

Merriwell’s Auto.
Merriwell’s Fun. .
Merriwell’s Generosity.
Merriwell’s Tricks.
Merriwell’s Temptation.
Merriwell on Top.
Merriwell’s Luck.
Merriwell’s Mascot.
Merriwell’s Reward.
Merriwell’s Phantom.
Merriwell’s Faith.
Merriwell’s Victories.
Merriwell’s Iron Nerve.
Merriwell in Kentucky.
Merriwell’s Power.
Merriwell’s Shrewdness.
Merriwell’s Set-back.
Merriwell’s Search.
Merriwell’s Club.
Merriwell’s Trust.
Merriwell’s False Friend.
425—Frank Merriwell’s Strong Arm.
428—Frank Merriwell as Coach.
431—Frank Merriwell’s Brother.
Merriwell’s Marvel.
437—Frank Merriwell’s Support.
440—Dick Merriwell at Fardale.
443—Dick Merriwell’s Glory.
446—Dick Merriwell’s Promise.
449—Dick Merriwell’s Rescue.

362—F rank
365—Frank
3608—Frank
371—F rank
374—F rank
377—Frank
380—Frank
383—Frank
386—F rank
389—F rank
392—F rank
305—Frank
3908—Frank
401—Frank
404—Frank
407—F rank
410—Frank
413—Frank
416—Frank
419—Frank
422—Frank

452—Dick Merriwell’s Narrow Escape.

455—Dick Merriwell’s Racket.
488—Dick Merriwell’s Revenge.
461—Dick Merriwell’s Ruse.
464—Dick Merriwell’s Delivery.
467—Dick Merriwell’s Wonders.
470—Frank Merriwell’s Honor.
473—Dick Merriwell’s Diamond.
476—Frank Merriwell’s Winners.
479—Dick Merriwell’s Dash.
482—Dick Merriwell’s Ability.
485—D. .« Merriwell’s Trap.
488—Dick Merriwell’s Defense.
491—Dick Merriwell’s Model.
4904—Dick Merriwell’s Mystery.
497—Frank Merriwell’s Backers.
500—Dick Merriwell’s Backstop.

503—Dick Merriwell’s Western Mission.
506—Frank Merriwell’s Rescue.
509—Frank Merriwell’s Encounter.
512—Dick Merriwell’s Marked Money.
515—Frank Merriwell’s Nomads.
518—Dick Merriwell on the Gridiron.
521—Dick Merriwell’s Disguise.
524—Dick Merriwell’s Test.
527—Frank Merriwell’s Trump Card.
530—Frank Merriwell’s Strategy.
533—Frank Merriwell’s Triumph.
536—Dick Merriwell’s Grit.
539—Dick Merriwell’s Assurance.
542—Dick Merriwell’s Long Slide.
545—Frank Merriwell’s Rough Deal.
548—Dick Merriwell’s Threat.
551—Dick Merriwell’s Persistence.
554—Dick Merriwell’s Day.
557—Frank Merriwell’s Peril.
560—Dick Merriwell’s Downfall.
503—Frank Merriwell’s Pursuit.
566—Dick Merriwell Abroad.
569—-Frank Merriwell in the Rockies.
572—Dick Merriwell’s Pranks.
575—Frank Merriwell’s Pride.
578—Frank Merriwell’s Challengers.
581—Frank Merriwell’s Endurance.
584—Dick Merriwell’s Cleverness.
587—Frank Merriwell’s Marriage.
590—Dick Merriwell, the Wizard.
593—Dick Merriwell’s Stroke.
596—Dick Merriwell’s Return.
so99—Dick Merriwell’s Resource.
602—Dick Merriwell’s Five.
605—Frank Merriwell’s Tigers.
608—Dick Merriwell’s Polo Team.

Published about March 14th, I91I.
611—Frank Merriwell’s Pupils.
Published about April 4th, 1911.
614—Frank Merriwell’s New Boy.
Published about April 25th, 1ort.
617—Dick Merriwell’s Home Run.
Published about May 16th, 191T.
620—Dick Merriwell’s Dare.

 

 

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, NEW YORK CITY

 

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