No.779 MARCH 18,1911 7 5 CENTS

Tprop WEEKLY.

AN IDEAL PUBLICATION FOR THE AMERICAN YOUTH
FRANK MERRIWELL’S INSIGHT

 

 

 

 

f . Srreer &SHIT™,
NEW YORK.»

 
 

 
 

 

<¥ An ideal publication

 

 

  

 

 

 

Sot, “Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second-class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Ave., N. Y.

No. 779.

4

 

Copyrighi, 1911, by STREET & SMITH.

NEW YORK, March 18,

IQII. Price Five Cents.

OR, |

The Brand Blotter of the X Bar S.

 

1 oe By BURT L. STANDISH.

 

* ;
GHAPTER. 1,
j ROWDY MEREDITH, COW-PUNCHER.
“Jest a-wearyin’ for you, \
All the time a-feelin’ blue;
, Lookin’ for you, wonderin’ when
‘You'll be comin’ back again;
Restless—don’t know what to do—
‘ Jest a-wearyin’ for you.”

 

te
~ $o sang Rowdy Meredith in a strong, musical,

though quite uncultivated barytone, as he loped
across the rolling prairie toward the setting sun. The
words were mournful and the ait a haunting, lilting
_wail which seemed the very culmination of ungratified
P longing and loneliness, but ‘Rowdy b himself did not ap-
- pear to be in the least downcast or depressed.

_ There was, on the contrary, an eager light in his
level gray eyes and a half smile on the firm-set, lips,

 
 

 
 

ceased “‘a-wearyin’ for her,” and was making what
speed he could to her presence.

3ut it was @ characteristic of Rowdy that in mo-

vs which, together with the freshly shaven face, care-,
fully brushed hair, and unwonted neatness of attire —
| penctauy, made one more than suspect that he had

ments of happiness his songs were of the most doleful
imaginable description, and when really discouraged

and down in the depths, he sought to cheer hitnself by
rollicking ragtime melodies. .

In that far-away, dim Kentucky past, a fond parent |

had christened him Rowland, but on the range there
are few names which escape mutilation, and his was
no exception. |- ;

Perhaps the fact that it fitted him to a T had some-
thing to do with the swiftness with which it had been

applied by his fellow cow-punchers, for a more mis-—

chievous, utterly fearless dare-devil than Rowdy Mere-
dith had never been taken on at John Carroll’s big X
Bar S outfit in western Texas.

There was nothing vicious or mean about him;

neither was he one of those pests of the range—a .
bragging bully. He was simply overflowing with ani- ~

mal “Spirits which found a vent in all sorts of ways,
some of them rather silly, perhaps, but none of them
underhand. |

As was natural, most of his tricks and practical

jokes took place in the winter time, when there was.
little else to occupy his mind; and though Old Man

i

   
   
   
   
 
    
     
         

  

sr sianas tegen Santa a se “4

           
        
       
             
     
      
    
     
       
   
stepper aes em

Eee

.

1

2 | TIP TOP

Carroll might grumble now and then or use even
stronger language when some particularly irritating
thing happened about the ranch house or at one of the
line camps, he knew perfectly well that there was no
more thoroughly competent, entirely dependable hand
in the outfit than Rowdy Meredith.

cheerful.
periods of the round-up or branding, he worked with-
out a murmur from early dawn until long after dark-
ness fell. but he

had a philosophical nature which seemed to realize

He was always During the strenuous

Others might growl and grumble,

that the work had to be done and that it was just as
easy to smile as to scowl over it.

No doubt he was helped materially in this attitude
by his perfect health and a He
fifty consecutive
hours and then hustle back to the bunk house, plunge

cast-iron constitution.
had been known to hold a herd for
his head into a bucket
change of clothes, and ride twenty miles to a dance
where he would be on his feet steadily. until well into
the morning.

Of course he was popular;
ways are.

men of that sort al-
And he had a good portion of that quality,
personal magnetism, enabled him to make
friends easily and keep them without difficulty.

So his life had gone on at the X Bar §S, rollicking
and care-free, with no thought beyond earning his
thirty dollars a month and squeezing every possible
‘drop of enjoyment out of his scanty leisure, until the
arrival of Rose Carroll.

Rowdy had been with the outfit for nearly two years
—which was a considerably longer time than he had
ever held a job before—whien this portentous and far-
reaching event took place.

The young

which

owher of the ranch—himself a bachelor—and, upon
the death of her only surviving parent, had come to
make her home there. |

John Carroll had not laid eyes on her in a good many
years, but the instant he saw her descending from the
train at Romero the conviction flashed through his
_mind that there were “ructions” in store for the outfit,
both singly and as a whole, and that conviction was
speedily verified.. |

Miss Carroll was distractingly pretty, to begin with.

_ She was, moreover, perfectly conscious of the fact—

as W hat girl is not who. has daily access to a mirror ?
-—though no one would)have guessed it for an instant
s from her manner.
She was a tiny little thing with a mop of curly
Meaelect hair, wide blue eyes, shaded by long lashes,

of cold water, make a hasty

woman in question was a niece of the.

WEEKEY;,

and a complexion which did credit to her front name.
But she had‘a decided will of her own,
she had-been three days

and before
at the ranch every male on
from her uncle to Jake, the stout, middle-
aged German cook,

the place,
was her devoted slave

The transformation among the cow-punchers verged
on the miraculous.

noticeable slicking

From the first night there was a
up on the part of most of thein to-

Faces were scrubbed and clothes
Silk handkerchiefs,
knotted around sun-browned throats with extreme care,
surreptitiously took the place of dilapidated cotton
ones. The single razor the bunk house boasted was
worked overtime. |

At first Rowdy viewed these preparations—elabo-
rately casual but quite unmistakable—with hilarious
mirth, and his jibes

ward supper time.
brushed with an unwonted ardor.

and jeers threatened to start a
rough-house of more than ustally serious proportions.
But within forty-eight hours he, too, was bound fast,
hand and foot, in chains which, though invisible, were
strong as steel, taking part in the run on Romero’s
general store, which speedily exhatisted the stock of
silk. handkerchief, leather hatbands, and other orna-
mental trifles.

From that moment Rowdy’s life was completely
changed. He sobered down amazingly and began to
save his pay, which in itself was decidedly signifi-
cant. f

Not content with that, he began to torment John

Carroll with all sorts of questions about the business

end of running a ranch—how and where cattle were
sold, what was the average proportion of profit, and a

thousand and one like queries, which the older man,

though growling and grumbling at the waste of his
time, answered to the best of his ability,

Things went on in this fashion for several months,

during which Miss Carroll vacillated. At one time
her' smiles and charms were all for Rowdy, and he ©
would go about with ,an incessant grin on his face, re
chanting the “Cowboy’s Lament” and other mournful —
ditties. a

= oe

Then she would plunge him into the depths of de-
spair by a sudden marked preference for, the society _
of Broncho Bill or Sunny Jim, and, between the blithe

strains of “Yankee Doodle” or “Cheyenne,” he would |
vow ‘ dismally that women were deceivers ever, and
determine never to have anything more to do with
them. Which awful decision lasted as long, of course,
as the lady in question chose, and not an instant longer.

At length, however, it became generally conceded
that Rowdy was decidedly i in the lead. Miss Carroll's a

 
Wades: LAR

   

smiles became so frequent as to be almost continuous,
and rare moods of contrariness were resorted to only
to prove that she still had the, upper hand.

J} ‘About this time Rowdy was the unexpected recipient

: \ of a,legacy from an aged great-aunt in Kentucky. It

” | amounted to a little over twelve thousand dollars, and

r it _ he promptly spent almost the whole of it in purchasing

4 i a tract of land lying to the eastward of the X Bar S
i outfit and stocking it—rather sparsely—with cattle.

_ John Carroll, though more than sorry to lose his

| services, helped him a great deal with advice and sug-

a0. Sa gestions, and furnished him, at as low a price as he
* — could, with the stock.

~~ Rose was delighted at the unexpected turn of af-

fairs, and for a time everything went smoothly.

 

Rie RAL Seed
Sides ree SS

ck

Unfortunately the purchase of the land had eaten
up so much money that Rowdy had been unable to buy
at first more than a few hundred head of cattle, and

the two years which followed were extremely lean
yeats for him. | |
He had to pinch and scrape and exercise every pos-
sible economical device in order to keep on top. He
was: his own ranch boss, cow-puncher, cook, horse
wrangler, and general handy man. He worked like a
galley slave, but in spite of all that the little shack
he had built for himself resounded day and night with
“For I’ve Come Home to Die, Mother,” and other
depressing songs, for he was happy. He was work-
ing for Rose, and, though there was no actual engage-
- ment between them, each knew that the other cared.
Twice a week, with the regularity of clockwork, no
matter how tired or worn out he might be, Rowdy

 

 
   
  
  
   
 
 
 

he talked late into the night, enthusiastically and op-
timistically, about the prospects of the ranch, which
he had called the 8 Bar 8, and how soon it would be
e eeeing | in money hand over fist.
And for once Rose Carroll was content to play
apn! fiddle—content to sit still and listen with only
_ now and then a quick nod or eager, interested ques-
+ tion ; for she loved him. | .

  
  
   
 
  
   
  

| CHAPTER II.

ars
A BOLT FROM THE BLUE.

   
  
 

At last things began to look up for Rowdy Mere-
: dith. The constant economy and care for little things,
| a with a lev el head and more than usually able

  
  
  

 

always spruced up and rode over to the X Bar S, where |

 

     

WEEKLY. Recon ee

and he had been able by a part-payment scheme to add
to it considerably. But with the increase of cattle the
routine work got beyond him, and he had been obliged
to take on a hand to help him out.

ee

Red” Conners, his old pal at the X Bar S, had been
waiting eagerly for this opportunity, and had come to
His arrival made all the difference in
the world in Rowdy’s

him joyfully.
daily life, for Red was Irish,
with a quick wit and-typical sense of humor which
went far toward arousing his chum from the rather
silent, almost taciturn, habits that two years of soli-
tary life had brought him.

There was, therefore, every reason in the world
why the latter should be happy as he loped along that
Wednesday afternoon toward Carroll’s on his “paint”’
horse, an animal known far and wide for his unique
and pecukar markings of black and white which made
him look at a distance more like a zebra than a horse.

If the approaching season should prove to be a good
one—and he hadino reason to doubt’ that it would—
he and Rose could be married in the fall. He would
build an addition to the cabin, but he had made up his
mind not to waste too much time or money on that.
Another two years and he would build a new house

which would be worthy of the girl.

He had determined to talk it over to-night. There
was no reason for waiting any longer. Up to now
he had hesitated about speaking to her in any direct
way. It would not have been fair, considering his un-
certain prospects, to ask a girl like Rose to tie herself
up to him. | ,

Of course he knew what her answer would be, but
still it would be pleasanter all around to have it set-,
tled° with due form and ceremony. He felt in his
pocket to make sure he had not lost the small white
pasteboard box containing the narrow gold band set
with a small diamond.. It was there, all right.

“Wish I could ’a’ bought a reg’lar headlight,” he
murmured. “It ’u’d shore look fine on Rose. Well,
anyhow, this is a peat, genuine article, which is mor’n
yuh c’n say 0’ some.”

Chuckling to himself, he straightened his lithe fig-
ure in the saddle, and raised his voice in the mournful
lament :

“Oh, play your fife slowly,
An’ beat your drum lowly,
‘ An’ play the death march
As you bear me along,
Take me to some yalley, ©
An’ throw the sod o’er me;
For I’m a poor cowboy,
An’ know I’ve done wrong.”

   
  
 

Ree a aoe

The echoes of the last sobbing line had scarcely
died away when he swept over a knoll and saw the
X Bar S ranch house lying before him. With a little
extra spurt, he galloped along a fence and turned
Sharply to the right, leaping off to take down the bars
of the gate.

As he was replacing them, after leading his cayuse
through, he heard the deadened hoofbeats on the sod
behind him, and straightened up quickly.

“Humph!’ he muttered, scowling a little as he recog-
nized the tall, erect figure loping easily toward him.
“Now what d’ yuh s’pose he’s doing around here?
That's the second time in a couple o’ weeks I’ve run
into him jest leaving the place. If I thought he was

-monkeying around Rose I’d shore put him in his
place.”

There seemed to be no doubt whatever that he
could make good this threat if he once set about it.
The newcomer, though tall and well set. up, lacked

decidedly the breadth and muscular development of
the cow-puncher from Kentucky.

He was considerably older than Rowdy Meredith
and rather handsome-in a dark, romantic way; but
there was something about his thin face which Rowdy
thoroughly disliked. He always felt as if the man
was laughing at him, but not in an open, honest way,
as men usually laugh. His thin lips were generally
pressed tightly together in a single straight line, and he
laughed in a subtle, sneering, secret fashion, which

‘showed only now and then in the brilliant, dark eyes
and was infinitely more irritating since it was impos-
sible to resent.

Happily Rowdy was not often called upon to exer-
cise his self-control in this regard, for their paths did
not often cross.

George Kerr was a recent acquisition to the neigh-
borhood, having come there some six months ago
from Montana. He seemed to be possessed of plenty
of money, and, after looking around for several weeks,
he had purchased a tract of land considerably to the

south, which he had stocked with cattle bought from

John Carroll and a number of other ranchers, set-
tling down \to build up an outfit of considerable size.
Feeling as he did toward the fellow, it was not sur-
prising that Rowdy should view his presence at the
X Bar S Ranch with something which was akin to in-
dignation. But, being possessed of a fair amount of
_ self-control, he managed to restrain arly exhibition of
_ this as he mounted and rode toward the approaching
-man. He detested above all things a fellow who went

WEEKLY.

“What is it? What’s happened, li'l’ girl?”

 

     

around with a chip on his shoulder and was continually 7

picking quarrels with his fellow beings. ce
In a moment they had met, and, pausing for a sec-

ond, exchanged the time of day. Kerr asked with

every appearance of interest how Rowdy’s outfit was

coming on, and the gray-eyed puncher, after satisfy-

ing his curiosity, made the same polite query in turn.
Then each one continued on his way.

 

“Blamed pleasant all of a sudden,’ growled Rowdy
to himself. , }
He sighed deeply and then his face cleared. It
mattered very little, after all, what he thought of:

George Kerr or what Kerr thought of him.

 

In about fh
sixty seconds he would be with Rose, and, consider-

ing that he had not laid eyes on her since Sunday ,
night, that meant a lot. 4

‘Nudging the cayuse in the ribs, he clattered up the © 1
gentle slope, dashed past the barns and outhouses, and 7
flung himself off at the kitchen door, his face slightly
flushed and the light of eagerness in his eyes.

It took but an instant to knot the bridle reins about
the hitching rack and burst into the house without } .
the formality of knocking. | oy

“Rose!” he ‘called joyously.

“Where are you,
Rose ?” .

 

Then he stopped in astonishment, for Rose was 4 3
sitting by the kitchen table, her face on her out- |
stretched arms and her shoulders heaving a little. As —
the door opened she sprang to her feet and dabbed
her eyes fiercely with an absurdly small and decidedly
damp handkerchief.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A look of consternation flashed into Rowdy’s eyes. —
In all the time he had known her he had never seen —
Rose shed tears before, and the sight cut him to the |
quick. Hige

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Why, Rose!” he gasped, stepping quickly forward.

 

 

 

 

 

For a moment she did not answer him. She had be
ceased to cry and stood there very straight and very —
still, her clenched ‘hands hanging loosely at her sides,
regarding him with a fixed intensity, touched a little — +
with contempt, which made him stop suddenly. A
spot of color burned brightly in either cheek—a sign
of anger which he knew well enough, but could not
understand. “3

 

 

 

 

 

 

    
     
     
     
      
     
 
   

 

  

At last she spoke. | cy
“Nothing much has happened, Mister Meredith,’

she said slowly and with a scornful emphasis that
made him flinch. ‘I have only learned in time what

  

et a
ae

ay \

  

  
    

TIP Or

rt ae lieved in and trusted and looked up to was not the

hero she thought him, or even as decent and upright as
most men are. That’s all.”

GHAP TER UE

be THE ETERNAL FEMININE

 

 

Rowdy stepped back as if some one had lashed him
across the face; the color left his cheeks and for a
moment there was an expression in his gray eyes which
“| was very like that of a big, honest dog who has been

beaten without a cause—dazed, bewildered,

} _—_ lous, and desperately hurt.

we Then he drew himself up with an odd little shake
of his head. His glance never ‘left her

incredu-

face.

| “Will yuh kindly tell me jest what you've heard
| about me to make yuh talk so. Yuh must ’a’ heard
| } something.” His voice was low and steady.

a | “Qh, you know perfectly well what I mean,” she
: cried. “There’s no earthly use in my prolonging this

interview by going into all the details. [I could never

own eyes.”
There was silence for a moment, but the girl's eyes

 

fell before his steady gaze. ;
— “Then yuh—really want everything to end—be-
tween us?” he asked, a little unsteadily.
“Yes—oh, yes!” she cried hysterically. “It has to
end. But won't you please go? Don’t you see how
hard you are making it for me?”
A rush of crimson flooded his face and his mouth
twitched. :
“I beg your pardon,” he tone. “I
~ didn’ 't—understand. I won't trouble yuh again, ma’am.
Good -by.”’
' Walking swiftly to the door, he stepped through and
- closed it carefully behind him. The latch had scarcely
clicked into place before the girl sprang forward.
~ “Oh, I can’t let him go!” she burst out. “I don’t
believe it, after all. He couldn’t have done it! Rowdy,
- come back! I was wrong.

 
 

said, in a low

  

  

J ¥

aaer fingers touched the latch and in another mo-
‘ment she would have torn the door open had not a
_ tall, rawboned, weather-worn man of forty-five or

 

  

 
 

Bidelit her bind:

read, girl. You don’t know what you're doing. He’s

  

WEEKLY. 5

have neneven it of you if I. hadn’t seen it with my

Rowdy,

‘helpless, and in the present instance there was added,

“There, Rose,” he said sternly, “don't go off your

   
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
     
  
   
    
  
   
  
 
   
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
 
 
    

dith, he’ll not be back again. You can’t marry a
fellow like that, and you know it.”

She turned on him suddenly, her chin tilted and her
eyes flashing fire.

“T’ll marry whom I please without any interference
from anybody!” she exclaimed. “Arid, what’s more,
I don’t believe he did it at all. Rowdy couldn't do a
thing like that, and I was a fool to doubt him—a per-
fect fool!’ :

A harassed: expression came into John Carroll’s
tannd face, and he tugged at his grizzled mustache
with a nervous hand. He never did understand women
and never would. A short half hour before Rose, had
been storming about the kitchen hysterically denounc-
ing Meredith in unmeasured terms, while now she had
gone to the opposite extreme and refused to hear any-

thing against him. .
“But you saw it, my dear,” he ventured presently.
‘I don’t see how you can say he didn't do it?”

“Of course I-saw it,” she retorted. “But I didn’t
see him. How do I know somebody else didn’t doit?” |

“Who else would?” he inquired skeptically. “Where  —~
would be the sense? It’s as clear as daylight to me, an’ i
I reckon Weatherbee’ll take about the same view———”’

“Uncle!” she broke in sharply. “You haven't sent
word to Jim Weatherbee!’”’

“W ell, no; but I was going to ride into town to-day,
an’———"’

“Don’t you dare do it!” she flamed up. “T'll never
forgive you as long as I live if you put the sheriff onto
I'll go away and never see you again. You
mustn't do it—you can’t. It isn’t fair. I .

The rest of the sentence was smothered in the small
wad of deep cambric, from which came unmistakable
though stifled sounds of sobbing.

The ranchman shifted awkwardly from one foot to
the other, and the worried look on his face deepened.
He hated to see a woman cry. It made him feel so

 
         
          
        
   

 

      
          
 
       
     
    
       
 
       
      
     
      
   
   
  

also, the unpleasant conviction that he was more or
less of a brute for having brought it about.

 

“T-thought you—cared for*me,” came presently in
smothered tones from behind the handkerchief. “TI
thought vee loved me, and now—you're doing your

nhappy.”’ A
Carroll squirmed uneasily, and felt more like a
brute than ever. After a moment’s hesitation, he —
stepped forward and stroked the girl's bowed head
awkwardly. oe

                     

~ best

“Don’t go on so, Rose,” bi'canenbiod, his face ee
slightly flushed. ‘“There’s plenty more men_as good as

 
     
  
  
   
  
  
   
 
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
   
     
       
       
       
     
     
     
     
     
       
     
     
     
       
     
     
       
       
 

6 TIP TOP

Rowdy Meredith, but if you say so, we'll jest let the
riatter drop this time.”

He staggered back, gasping, as a whirlwind of skirts
engulfed him and two arms slid around his neck.

“You darling!” she exclaimed, in a smothered,
clothy voice from where her face lay against his
shoulder. “I knew you wouldn't do such a thing when
I asked you not to.”

As she stepped back, he saw with surprise that her
face was dimpling and smiling.

_“T don’t want any other man,” she said. “I just
want Rowdy. I’m going to have him, too; and I’m
going to get to the bottom of this mystery, see ih dk
don't.’

With a deep, sigh of relief, Carroll started for the
door.

“Welly I shore hope you do, Rose,” he remarked,
his hand on the latch. “But there’s one thing about it,
if this happens again, I can’t promise to sit still an’
do nothing. |
put Weatherbee on the trail, somebody else would.
Understand ?”

She nodded.

“Don’t you worry.
sure.”

“Outside, John Carroll paused,
head in a puzzled way.

“Women is strange critters,’ he muttered to him-
self. “Hot one minute an’ cold the next. Well, I’m
dead thankful she got over her fit, though she shore

~

It won't happen again, I’m

and scratched his

‘come out of it mighty sudden.”

Five minutes later, as he was coming out of the
corral, a sudden thought struck him which made him
slap his thigh with an unexpectedness and force which
started the sorrel pony to rearing and plunging wildly.

“By thunder!” he exclaimed. “Do you s’pose them
goings on was done a-purpose to get around me? By
jinks! I bet that’s jest what they was. Humph!
She’s shore cute, Rose is.” ae

And a slow grin wreathed his weather-worn counte-

nance as he turned his attention to subduing the pony.
4 ®

CHAPTER IV,

WHY?

- Meanwhile Rowdy Meredith was pursuing his way _

slowly back across the prairie at a pace which con-

—trasted forcibly with the whirlwind rush of his ap-
proach to the X Bar S.

 

It ain’t human nater, an’ even if I didn’t -

\

vhe had relaxed unconsciously, and the forward curve

iv have turned Rose against him in that way. Already

‘was turning rapidly to night.

. all,.it seems so like something which might have hap-

 

WEEKLY.

As long as the ranch house remained within sight 1:
he had ridden with head up and shoulders squared,
for he did not wish to let Rose know how much she
had hurt him. Now that there was no one to see,
of his big, muscular body was more eloquent than | |
many words would have been, \

The blow had been so sudden and unexpected that
for a time he was dazed. What had happened he could
not imagine. It must have been something pretty bad

 

he was beginning to regret that his wounded pride had
kept him from remaining and demanding an explana-
tion. It was due him.
Of course things would come around all right in on
time. Whatever the trouble was, it must be explained qe
4
{
|

 

aS “Re eee; ae

away. But Rowdy felt that, as long as he lived, he |
could never forget that Rose had doubted him.

“T wouldn’t ’a’ minded so much,” he muttered de-
jectedly, “if she hadn’t believed it without my sayin’
a word. If she’d only said to me, ‘I’ve heard that —
you done so-and-so, now how about it?’ it wouldn’t

’ been so bad. But to turn me down like a*dawg
without givin’ me a show hurts like the deuce. Seems ~~
like when we’ve been keepin’ company for mor’n two
years it was up to her to do that much.”

The sun had set by this time and the gray twilight
Presently Rowdy urged —
his horse to a gallop, and a little later, when he had
slowed down again, he started to whistle the first —
bar of “Cheyenne”; but the sound which issued from
his set lips was so lifeless and totally without spirit
that he stopped before he was halfway through it. |

The whole thing seemed incredible and unreal, like
one of those unusually vivid dreams which one recalls —
later, half wondering whether it really was a dream at

pened.
For two long years his every waking thought had —
been of Rose. It was for her that he had bought
the land and started a ranch. For her he had slaved
day after day ,until.every muscle in him ached with
weariness, and even his brain was tired. For her he
had lived that lonely, solitary. life when every instinct —
in him cried out for the jolly, rollicking, boisterous
company of the crowded bunk house. All, that long
time the one thing which made it bearable were those ”
visits to the X Bar S and the talks with her. But these
were at an end, for Rose was now no more to him—’
even less, in fact—than any other girl. 7

It! was no wonder that he could not stifle that dull,

   
 

Til, or

poignant ache, keener far than any physical pain, which
filled his soul at this utter shattering of his ideal, this
sweeping away of all that he had planned and lived
for.

It seemed at first to leave him stranded high and
dry like some bit of driftwood left by receding floods,
and that was why he could not even whistle ‘“Chey-
enne. ‘

 

But Rowdy would not have been the man he was
had he succumbed without a struggle to this blow. He
was stunned, dazed, bewildered, and bitterly hurt, but

little by little, as he thought the matter over in every
possible light, he began to get mad.

¥

What right had she to take somebody else’s word
in preference to his? She said she had seen some-
thing with her own eyes, or else she would never
have believed. What had she seen? What could she
have seen?

te a ne ein Feed
met 4 ~ aes"

: His first thought, of course, was that she suspected
ie him of going with some other girl. He laughed bit-
terly.

“Swell chance I’ve had of doin’ that, even if I
wanted to,” he muttered. ‘Workin’ my hands off an’
Vs addling my brain tryin’ to make a dollar do the work
sof two. An’ all for her!. Bah! Women are all like
that. They get an idea in their nuts and up they go
' in the air like a balloon. Don’t seem to make any
matter how well they know a feller, or how much he’s
done for ’em, they’re ready to believe most anything
they hear about him. I’m through. If I don’t keep
clear of skirts after this I'll be the biggest fool that
ever walked,” |

 

 
   
 
  
 
 
 
   
 

He jerked his hat brim down over his forehead and
rode for some time in scowling silence. At this
stage it was the same old comedy of lovers’ misunder-
standing, played millions of times since the world be-
- gan, but to Rowdy it bore the light of tragedy.

   
 

       
       
           
      
   
   
    
     
    

; “I’m shore going to do one thing, though,” he’ burst
out presently. “I'll get to the bottom of this mix-up
and show her where she’s in dead wrong, I'll make
her so blamed sorry for havin’ doubted me that she’ll
be ready to ask my pardon good an’ proper. She'll
get it, but she won't get me. Nixon that!”

 

 
 

‘But deep down i in his heart he knew perfectly well
that Rose had but to lift her finger and he would
come. There was some slight measure of consola-
__ tion, however, in thinking of how he would make her
orry. She had a way of acknowledging herself in
~ the wrong—it had occurred but rarely, to be sure—
which was captivating.

 
 

   

WEEKLY.

than to ask any further questions.

 

  

3y the time Rowdy reached the shack, therefore,
he -was outwardly in much better spirits) He swung
himself out of the saddle, stripped it off the “paint”
horse in a twinkling and turned the animal loose in
Then,
leather, he strode toward the cahin, whistling the dulcet
strains of “Hiawatha.”

the corral. shouldering the heavy mass of

As he shoved open:the door with one foot Red
Conners looked up in surprise.

“Back kinda early, ain’t yuh?” he commented.

Rowdy flung the saddle down in one corner.

“Uh-huh,” he grunted, shrugging.

“Wa’n't she home?”

The gray-eyed puncher dragged a chair close to the
stove and began to warm his hands.

“Shore. She was to home, all right.”

For a time the silence was broken only by the shrill,
vibrant whistle, growing faster and faster as it exe-
cuted the culminating crescendo of a march without a
single false note.

Red, lounging in-his bunk, surveyed his companion
with a world of speculation in his bright-blue eyes.
Something was wrong, he knew, for Rowdy never gave
voice to that particular tune save
or the utmost depression.

in times of stress
He knew better, however,
If Rowdy in-
tended to tell him what had happened it would come
out sooner or later without any effort on his part.

So Red languidly reached for tobacco sack and .
papers and proceeded deftly to roll himself a ciga-
rette.

This operation and “Hiawatha” came to an end at
about the same time. Then Rowdy got up and began
to walk restlessly up and down the room, pausing now
and then to finger absently a spur or quirt or the
fringe of a pair of chaps hanging on the wall, his
manner showing plainly enough that his thoughts were
far away. _ |

At last he stopped bef ore the bunk and looked down
at Conners.

“Say, Red,” he dea quietly, “yuh heard anything
against me lately?”

The freckle-faced puncher
wide-eyed astonishment. --

“Thunder, no!’ he exclairned.
yuh talking about? Heard what?” |

Rowdy shrugged his shoulders.

“TI don’t know,” he returned sourly,
I'm trying to find out.”

gazed back at him: in —

“That's what —

   

7 f oq
Bef
aA

“What in time are a
      
 
   
  
 
    
   
  
  
    
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
        
     

thud and sat suddenly erect.

yuh? Can’t yuh give a feller a hint?”

circulated stories against, him:

says. So I got.’

out of his head with amazement.

         
     
     
       
   
   
       
     
     

“Vuh hit the bull’s-eye clean, Red.”

       
        
        
   
     
   

edge of the bunk.

for did she throw yuh ‘down ?”
_ The gray-eyed puncher shook his head.
‘T don’t know.”

     

“Didn’t yuh ask her?”

 

hee DOP

 

Conners brought his feet down on the floor with a

“Say,- pard, yuh talk like yuh was locoed,”
marked emphatically. ‘What would I hear against

Rowdy hesitated, and his face flushed a little.
had an instinctive dislike to letting even his chum
know what had happened over at the X Bar 5. Then he

‘ realized that the whole thing would come out sooner
or later and become public property, and that he would
be gaining nothing at all by keeping still.

“T don’t know no mor’n yuh do, Red,” he said pres-
ently. “But some coyote has framed up a tale against
me, an’ if I can lay my hands on that same identical
person, there’ll be fur a-flyin’, yuh can shore Bet.”

He paused an instant, and the expression on his
clean-cut face boded little good for any one who had

“It’s this way, Red,” he went on quickly: “I-goes
over there to-night as usual, an’ as usual I walked
into the kitchen without knockin’. Done it fifty times
before, but I never found’Rose cryin’ like I did to-
night. Soon’s she sees me, she up an’ tells me straight
from the shoulder that she’s found out what kind of a
dope I was an’ that it was up to me to git an’ stay got.
She didn’t want to see me no more. It kinda knocked
‘me silly for a minute, but when a lady talks that way
to yuh, Red, a jest nachally got to do what they

By this time Conners’ eyes were almost popping

“She trun yuh down!’ he gasped incredulously.
“Rose trun yuh down! Well—I’ll—be—hanged!”

Rowdy nodded gloomily. He foresaw that Con-
Be ners’ attitude of stupefied astonishment was but a fore-
Fey runner of what he had to expect from all the boys
BS roundabout when the news was made public, and it
was not a pleasant thing to look forward to.

“Eggsackly,” he retorted, with a mirthless laugh.

Suddenly Conners brought his teeth together with a
snap and’ sprang to his feet. The half-smoked ciga-
- rette dropped unheeded and lay smoldering a ne

“But what for?” he demanded hetticventtie

“Don't know!’ repeated Red, in a dazed voice.

WEEKLY.

; 5 : /
Rowdy smiled grimly. ’

“Oh, shore. I asked her, all right,’ he replied.
“But she says as how there wasn’t no use o’ going
over it all, an’ that I knowed well enough what it was
—which 0’ course I would have if I’d. done anything.
I, will say that what she’d found out didn’t seem to
give her no real joy, ‘cause she looked like she was
goin’ to bust out cryin’ most any time. Yuh see, Red,
when a lady asks yuh to go an’ go quick, yuh can’t
stop to ask questions—specially if you’re mad as blazes
yourself an’ know you're about due to break the com-
mandments some.” :

“But didn’t yuh see the old man?” Conners put-in —

quickly. “Didn’t yuh ‘see nobody that *u’d put yuh
wise to the game?” P

“Nope. Kerr was comin’ away jest as I struck the
gate, but he was sweet as sugar. Didn’t see the old
man or none of ‘the boys.”

“Kerr!” exclaimed Conners sharply... “What's he
nosin’ around there for, I’d like to know? Do yuh
s pose he could have had anythin’ to do with it ?”

“T thought mébbe so, till she said as how she’d Seen
it with her own eyes. That sort of lets him out.”

“Séen it!”

Red’s wandering eye lit on the curling smoke from
the cigarette which he brushed to the floor and ground

instinctively under the heel of his boot. Then he.

dropped back on the bunk and scratched his head in
a puzzled manner. } .

“She seen it, did she?” he said slowly. “Well, it’s —

got me. Why, yuh ain’t been out o’ my sight for the
last month, exceptin’ when yuh was over there, an’
I ain’t seen yuh do nothin’.”

The problem continued to puzzle them both until
long into the night, when they tumbled into their bunks.

The next morning found them decidedly more silent :

than usual, and, after swallowing a hurried breakfast,
they separated, Red to hunt up strays at the farther

boundary of the ranch, while Rowdy set out in the op-
posite direction to mend a stretch of fence.

Meredith was still working at it a couple of hours

later when he saw Conners-streaking across the ground
toward him as fast as his horse could gallop.

Two minutes later Red pulled up with a jerk beside
Rowdy, his face flushed and his eyes gleaming, with |

amazement.

“Get a hustle on, son, and come over to the ae =
field quick!” he snapped out. “T’ll bet a month’s pay —

I’ve found out what the trouble is with Rose, an’

it’s shore the limit, too.”

. zd ya
: i

 

EE

ee ee

* 4

 

i)

———

a

Pa patie:

apne:

tee
   

 

SEPT GP

| CHAPTER V.
; ENTER FRANK MERRIWELL,

A little earlier on that same morning, Rose Carroll
was washing dishes in the kitchen of the X Bar 5
Ranch house. Dutch Jake, whose occupation this
usually was, had come down the day before with an
attack of lumbago and was confined to the bunk house.

It must not be supposed that Miss Carroll per-
Wy formed the somewhat monotonous duty from necessity.
Wy She had but to raise her finger, and any one of half
} - a dozen cowmen would have been more than happy

 

. i J

\ ©

a o> _ to do it for her. In fact, there had been several
= I broad hints from them already that they would be
Hl delighted to take the matter out of her hands: but,
=| not being in the mood for company, she had shooed
‘4 ie . them all out of the kitchen the instant the meal was

| over, with the remark that she was quite able to look
| he after things alone and didn’t want any men hanging

. around making a nuisance of themselves.

So they had scattered to their more prosaic occupa-
tions—dish washing may not seem particularly ro-
mantic, but to the discerning eye it’ has possibilities
when a girl like Rose stands by to do the drying—
and the ranch owner followed them hastily. He was
mindful of the storms of the evening before, and there
is was an expression of thoughtful purpose in his niece’s
at ia face, together with a decided shortness of manner,
4 which he had learned to interpret as not conducive in
| the least to his com fort.

 

Rose, therefore, had the house to herself and,

_ she polished the knives and forks vigorously, she had
no hesitation in giving voice to the thoughts which
crowded through her brain and wrinkled her smooth
brows with unwonted anxiety.

  
 
 
 

“T don’t suppose he’ll ever come back,’’ she mur-
mured, in a troubled tone, “after the hateful things I
said to him. I’m sure I wouldn’t, if I were a man.
pi can’t think what got into me, except that I’d just
come back and it was all so fresh in my mind, and
__ uncle and Mr. Kerr said such terrible things about
him.”

 
  
 

By

  
  
  
  

_ Gathering up the cutlery, she crossed the 7 room. and
“dumped it into an open drawer. Then she returned
_ to the sink again.

 
 
  

“T’ve almost a aan to vide’ over this afternoon and
tell him.I’m sorry,” she went on, half to herself, pick-
g up a white china cup of the thick, guaranteed-
unbreakable variety. “It doesn’t seem a very nice
hing for a girl to do; but there isn’t a soul ; could
send, and, if I did, I aby t believe he’d come.”

  
  
   
  
 
  

   

was possible,

  

WEEKLY. 9

Mentally she ran over the list of the men who might

perform that office for her, rejecting them all, The
cow-punchers were all too much interested in her, per-

sonally, and, though she knew any one of them would
go if she asked it,“her woman’s wit told her that they
would scarcely succeed in luring Rowdy Meredith
back to the ranch.

The same reason applied with even greater force to
the men of other outfits in the neighborhood, and her
uncle was out of the question. A little diplomatic
beating around the bush the night before had revealed
the fact that he weuld have nothing more to do with
Rowdy, and when John Carroll really put his foot
down Rose had learned from experience that it stayed
put.

“T don’t see that there’s anything else for me to de

but go myself,’ she murmured,

3ut what if he should pay no attention even to her?

_A sudden flutter of fear struck her at this thought. It

She had not been able to erase from
her mind the look in those level gray eyes which she
had last seen there. Surprise, pain, and incredulous
bewilderment were there; but no hint of guilt. Had
she been herself she could ‘not have failed to see it
in time to make amends.

A man with eyes like that could never have done
what she had accused him of doing, but he might refuse
to have anything more:to do with her. His chin was
terribly square-and determined; his mouth firm.

A sudden rush of tears filled her eyes, and she put -
down the cup and fumbled for her handkerchief.

“T couldn’t—bear it if he—wouldn’t listen to me,”
“T’d rather not—go at all, if I thought
that would happen. What in the world should I do
without—=__ Oh, gracious! who’s that?’ 7

A sharp. knock had sounded at the kitchen door,
causing -her to jump nervously and dab frantically
at her eyes. A moment before she had heard a horse
galloping toward the house, but supposed it to be one
of the hands. Evidently it was not, for they would
have walked.in without knocking. |

she sobbed.

 

As she fumbled with the strings of the capacious
apron which covered her from head to foot and made
her seem even smaller than she ally was, the knock

was repeated. ;

Desisting at once from her attempt 3 at untying the
knot, she stepped rather slowly to the door ae flung
it open. .

A tall, broad-shouldered man, with dark hair and i
eyes and a clean-cut, handsome face, stood there. As

~
      

10 TEE SARE
she appeared he took off
litely.

“Good morning,’

his broad-brimmed hat po-

he said, in a pleasant voice and

with a most attractive smile. “Is Mr. Carroll at
home?”
“Not just now.

He went out with the men right
after breakfast, and I hardly think he’ll

be back till
dinner time.”

The stranger Hesitated, and there was a look of dis-
appointment in his eyes which made the girl go on
quickly

“But won't you come in and wait? He’'ll surely be
back by twelve, and perhaps before.” |

“T believe I will.
long time, and, since I was in this part of the country,
coming up from Mexico, I thought I'd ride a little

You see I haven’t seen him in a

out of my way and drop in on him. My name is
Merriwell, and I used to know Mr. Carroll pretty well
up in Wyoming,”

The girl’s face dimpled in a charming smile.

“Oh, you must surely wait, then,’ she exclaimed.
“I’ve heard Uncle John speak of you so often. He
thinks a lot of you, and I know he’d be dreadfully
sorry if he missed your visit.”

- “T’'m very glad to meet you, Miss Carroll,” Frank
Merriwell said quickly. “It is Miss Carroll, isn’t it?
-I thought so. I’ve heard him speak of a brother ne
lived in. the East.”

_rack.
“Shall I come in here?” he asked.

 

Bi Ses, dO, it you don’t mind the kitchen. I haven’t
finished my dishes yet.”

“You must go right on with your work, or I shan’t
stay.” Frank smiled. “It’s so raw and cold this morn-
__ ing that my fingers are nipped a bit.”

He took a chair beside the stove, and Rose, after
an instant’s hesitation, resumed her work at the sink.
She was rather taken by the appearance of this man,
of whom she had so often heard her uncle speak, and,

while he chatted pleasantly about some interesting ex-
periences he had just had in Mexico, she watched
him intently, an idea growing slowly in her mind

usual.

\

  

_confidence, and’ Rose was becoming slowly conscious of
that something as so many others had done before her.

rather more pains than usual to bring about just this

He knotted the bridle reins 2 ae over the hitching ©

flat, rolling land which surrounded the house.

~ which made her much more silent and thoughtful than

There was something about the man which inspired

She did not know, of course, that Merry was taking

 

WEEKLY.

   
  
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
  
  
 
  
    

condition of affairs. He had not failed to notice the

girl’s subdued manner nor the traces of tears on her
cheeks. She was evidently greatly distressed over
something, so he did his best to take her mind, for ;
the time being, at least, from her troubles. hi

His efforts did not have that effect, but little by little = |
Rose began to wonder whether this man, who seemed
so kind and thoughtful and trustworthy, might not, tf
perhaps, help her. She knew a good deal about him

from, her uncle’s talk, and,

 

being a rather discerning
person, she gathered even more from her ob-
servation of his keen, alert face and square, determined
chin. He was evidently a man who had done things
in this world.

young

talked on, going from one subject to an-
and the
and stronger

So Frank
other in his interesting, amusing manner,
notion in the girl’s mind grew stronger
until she was quite decided to confide in him and ask
his advice, and only held back awaiting an opportunity.
~ Several times this came, but she did not take ad-
vantage of it. Somehow, she could not seem to bring
herself to broach so intimate a topic to a man she had.
known barely an hour, even though he really seemed HP ta
far from being a stranger. a

 

Fe nena

CHAPTER. VI.

SEEKS

eens

Sc ne

ip pele is Pat 2 ae

SS SS ee —_—
——— "

MISS CARROLL ADVICE,

7 / f \
| Merriwell was not slow to observe these signs of |
thoughtful disquiet, and presently he arose and strolled

over to the window, where he gazed out across the

a

a

a

  
  

  
       
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
       
     
   

ae

Rose glanced hesitatingly at his broad back. She
had finished the dishes and was bustling about pre-
paratory to starting the dinner. Twice she opened her
lips only to close them again without a sound, but at
last she summoned her courage and spoke.

“T wonder if you'd mind, Mr. Merriwell,’”’ she said
falteringly, “if I asked your advice about something?” _

Frank turned with a reassuring smile. :

“Why, of course not, Miss Carroll,” he said quick dy. v
“T should feel flattered at the confidence.” hls

The girl dropped her eyes and nervously twisted one
corner of the capacious apron in her fingers. |

“Tt must seem very odd for me to talk this. way :
to a man I’ve known such a little while,” she went on, _
in a low tone; “but you don’t seem a bit Til ke a
and I’m almost worried to death over it.’ a,

“Pm NESY, glad you don't consider me a \ stranger,

      
    
 
 

stranger, |

   
 

   
 

 

Pare DOP

Merry said quietly. “If you'll tell me what the trouble
is, I'll do my best to help you with advice or in any
other way I can.” . :

Her eyes were still downcast and her face flushed
a deep pink, but presently she swallowed hard and took
the plunge.

“It’s about Rowdy Meredith,” she began. ‘You see,
for more than two years we've been
friendly.”

 

 

er—ah—quite

Having made the plunge, she went on swiftly to
state the case in a manner which made the situation
clear to Frank, whose wits were keen to perceive points
she faltered at or passed over quickly. In a few mo-
ments he was wise to the situation, but even a lovers’
quarrel did not lead him to smile—before Rose.

At length she spoke of George Kerr.

“Yesterday afternoon he came to see uncle.
were in his office, but the door was open and I heard

them talking. Mr. Kerr was quite excited and said,

that he had found some steers in Rowdy’s herd that
had uncle’s brand with Rowdy’s over it—fresh. You
see what that means, of course? All of Rowdy’s
steers are branded that way because he bought them
from uncle, but he got the last ones two months ago,
and Mr. Kerr said these had been branded less than a
week.
“It was a minute or two before I understood that

they meant Rowdy had stolen them, and then I just.

went-for them .both and told them it wasn’t true.
Rowdy couldn’t do a thing like that, and they were
hateful to say it. Uncle wouldn't listen to me. Some-
times he gets so I can’t manage him at all. He said
this was no girl’s business and that' he was going to

ride over right off and see whether it was so or

not. Then I said I would go, too, for I should never,
never believe such a thing until I saw it with my own
eyes. ie

“Of course they didn’t want me to go, At least,
uncle was very horrid, and, though Mr. Kerr didn’t

_ say anything, I could see he felt the same way, But

I went. Wild horses couldn’t have kept me away.”
She hesitated and looked at Frank with troubled
eyes. \ |

Sed “And what did you find?” Merty asked quietly.

“Tt was true,” she answered slowly. “At least, the

_ Steers were there, mixed right up with the rest of his

cattle, and even I could see that the branding was
fresh. The things uncle said were awful. He seemed
to think there was no doubt that Rowdy was a villain,

and he was for going right over and arresting him on

They

 

WEEKLY.

persuaded him to leave that to the sheriff, so we went
I think I must have been crazy to believe it
even for a minute, but they were both so sure and it

home.

was so sudden, and-———. Oh, dear! I just was a fool,
that’s all.
drought was broken around here. I couldn't help it;

for I'm a girl. Then Rowdy came in a whole hour

 

 

before I expected him, and and

She broke off abruptly, apparently trying to laugh,
but drooping, her lashes swiftly to hide the glitter
of tears in her eyes.

“And so you sent him right about face, I suppose,”
Merry said, sternly denying the ghost of a smile that
desperately sought materialization.

She looked at him in startled amazement.

“Why, how did you know?” she gasped.

The ghost fought harder to cut a figure in the
séance.

“T happen to be married, my dear,” he returned,
“and therefore know a little about the process of the
feminine “mind. In moments of excitement or great
emotion it is apt to be a bit illogical. They are prone
sometimes to take apparently irrefutable evidence on
its face value without regard to the character or past
record of the man who is accused. Some man, you
know, would be likely to consider what he knew of
this Meredith before condemning him, even though
the facts were dead against him.”

He paused an instant and then went on quickly in
a lighter tone:

“Td be willing to wager, Miss Carroll, that the min-
ute the door closed behind him you were sorry, and
that now nothing would induce you to think anything
bad of-him on any evidence whatever.”

“You're certainly a wizard, Mr. Merriwell,’”’ she

said, smiling through her tears; “and you do cheer a_,

person up, I’ve been thinking that I must be the most
hateful girl on earth, whereas I seem to be only typical
of the sex.” |

“Exactly.”” The ghost appeared at last. “And now,
of course, you want to make up again.”

She nodded quickly.

“Yes, and that’s the difficulty. Rowdy would never
‘come back here after what I said to him.
firm, you know, and I was a cat.
pardon, but I couldn’t bear it if I went to him and he

.wouldn’t Jisten.”

Merry’s face, was thoughtful. _
“And so you'd like me to sound this. young man be-
fore you make the attempt. I{.we could prove that

Ci ho 8 ~

“

After Mr. Kerr had gone, I—I—vwell, the .

-

He’s very =~
I want to beg his —

   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
      
       
   
     
     
     
     
     
       
       
       
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
   
         
       
   
   
   
  

  

*

  

  

 
   
  
  

  

 
       
         
    

   

+2 Lb DOP
he is innocent of this brand blotting and lay our hands
on the guilty party, that would help a lot, no doubt.”

She looked at him with bright, eager eyes.

 

“Yes, yes, of course it would!” she cried. “But
how
“That's a little difficult to say,” Frank put in, “until

I know more about the case.
the matter to your uncle’s attention—what
man is he? Would there be any motive in his doing
the thing himself?” 3

“Oh, d At least, I shouldn’t think so. He’s
not been in the neighborhood long, and I don’t think
Rowdy's met*him more than half a dozen times. He
owns the ranch to the south of this, and comes up
now and then to talk shop to uncle.”

“Ts he married ?”

“Not that I know of.
Montana, where
anything about it.’

There was a quizzical look in Merry’s eyes.

“We can take it for granted, then, that he’s single.
Is he—er—by any chance, in love with you, Miss
Carroll ?”’

The girl flushed a little and her lips
merry smile.

“Mercy, no!”
iceberg. He

This Kerr, who brought
sort of a

sar, no!

He may have a wife in
he came from, but he’s never said

parted in a

she exclaimed. 3 a regular

“Why, he’s
around, and looks as if he wished to goodness that
I'd go away so he could get back to his business talks
with uncle.” ?

“Well, out that motive, then,’ Frank
smiled. “And, at the present moment, no other occurs
tome. He’s not in love with you and therefore cannot
be jealous of Meredith. There seems, also, no reason
for his disliking the latter. Did he explain how he
came to «make this discovery?”

“Yes, he was taking the short cut through the west
_ corner of Rowdy’s land on his way here. He noticed
the fresh brand on one of the steers in passing a
bunch of them and roped the animal to make sure.
Then he found several others.”

“H’m!” Frank murmured thoughtfully. “Appar-
ently no motive whatever. I’m afraid we'll have to
look elsewhere for our criminal. By the way, how
._ long has this Kerr been located here ,

well cut

_ “A little over six months.”

- “And what does he look like?” Merry asked care-
feisty
. “He’s tall and thin, with black hair and eyes,” the
“girl answered. “At least I think his eyes are black.
_ They're very dark, anyhow. His face is narrow and

always seems bored to death when I’m

 

WEEKLY.

long, and it usually seems as if he were laughing at —

you.” Not really laughing

g, you know, but just that

look in his eyes.as if he were amused inside.”

Frank gave a barely perceptible start.

“But his hair you say? Are you quite
sure?”

“Oh, perfectly. Black and quite thick.”

“No mustache, I suppose?”

She shook her head decidedly, and Merry turned to
the window.

is black,

“Tt seems to be a rather interesting little problem,”
he remarked quietly. “TI believe [’ll take a run over and
see your friend Meredith.

“You're not thinking of speaking to him yet
this?” she asked, rather nervously.

“Oh, no. I'll go.asa stranger just to see what, he’s
like and—take a look around generally.”

 

CHAPTER VII.

Too BoP Ad NAY oO Rise

had discovered in the
lower field was one of the freshly branded steers, and,
not being in the least slow-witted, he had instantly

Of course, what Red Conners

grasped the more than unpleasant possibilities of the

thing.

In the West, cattle stealing in any form is more
abhorrent, ‘almost, than murder, and in some places
the shooting of a man is openly considered the lesser

offense.

Knowing Rowdy Meredith as he did, Red neyer
doubted his innocence for a moment, but he realized
that others would be hardly likely to take the same

.. view, considering the suspicious nature of the evidence. _
They would not doubt for an instant that Rowdy had _
succumbed to temptation and, to escape detection, had __
trusted to the fact that all his other steers were branded
There was no motive whatever for

in just that way.
any one else doing the job. Men do not go about
committing that sort of a crime for amusement or
even to gratify a petty grudge.

The situation was, therefore, a serious one, anid,

without waiting to make further examination, Red —

leaped on his horse and gales full speed to summon
Meredith.

Rowdy made no comment when Conners stated his

find. His’ face was a trifle pale, perhaps, and his

brow scowling,, but otherwise he was surprisingly
composed. But the narrowing eyes and the mouth,

about

i 4 i *
oe

pe pan Ee Py bt FRO

   
 
   
       
       
    
     
   
       
   
         
       
   
         
    

  

 

      
         
   
   
       
   

    

 
  

TIP TOP

set in a firm, straight line, were signs of a brewing
storm,

“We'll go through the herd right off,”
shortly, ‘an’ find out how much more of this precious
work ‘there is.”

Without further words, they began circling through
the herd, and in the space of an hour had examined
every animal thoroughly. Ten fine steers bearing the
fresh brand had been cut out and | were held at a little

, distance.

Rowdy surveyed them frowningly, his lips tightly
pressed together. Presently he broke the silence.

ee “T’ll find the coyote that done this an’ shoot him
“Tt’s the dirtiest trick a man

he said

up some,” he declared.
can play.”
+ He hesitated an instant, and then went on, without
glancing at Conners:
2 “T reckon this was what ailed Rose, all right.’
‘ee “Shore thing,’ Red put in quickly. “I dunno how
she found it out, but it must bé that. I s’pose it is
kinda tough for a girl to come on a thing like this
sudden like; an’ Rose has Deen on the range long
enough to know what it means.’

Rowdy gave his head a jerk and squared his shoul-
, ders.

   

<=

  

 

  

“You might as well save your breath, Red,” he
snapped out. “A girl that’s known me, like Rose does,
oughter be dead sure I couldn't do a thing like this,
‘ho matter what she sees. Yuh don’t believe it, do
“yuh?

Sa >
gee Ener os oe a oe
7 : 7

ee
Se ey

  
 
  
 
 

_ Conners shook his head quickly.

 

EN

 

~“Q’ course not,” he retorted vehemently. “But
ey ‘then, Rose’s a girl, an wimen git queer notions in
their nuts sometimes.”

   
  
  

‘Rowdy laughed harshly.

“Oh, that be hanged !’’ he retorted. “She fell down,
that’s all. When the chance came for her to stick by
me an’ show what she was made of, she didn’t take it.
That ain’t the kind of girl I want to marry, I reckon.”’

;
4

  
   
   

 

He shrugged his shoulders as if the matter were
settled for good and all. For the moment he thought
age ie meant what he said, but eee inside

  

 
 

“But we're jest wastin’ time here,” he fet on
quickly. “We got to git this bunch into the corral
right now, an’ after grub we'll take ‘em over to the
ie Bar S, where they belong. I ain’t goin’ to have it

      
 

WEEKLY,

Conners.”

 

Red shook his head dubiously, but ventured no re-
mark.. He of course, how widely the
matter was known, nor what steps Old Man Carroll

did not know,
proposed taking; but on general principles, it did not
seem a very wise proceeding for Rowdy to venture
into the enemy’s territory in that barefaced fashion.

However, in the latter’s present determined mood,
nothing he could say would be effective, so he kept his
peace, and in silence the two started back toward the
shack, driving before them the ten- rebranded animals
which had been the unwitting cause of so much
trouble.

They drove the cattle into the corral and, fastening
the gate, rode on to the cabin, Rowdy, his face still
black as a thundercloud, in the lead.

Rounding the corner of the shack, he pulled in his
horse abruptly, and his hand closed swiftly and instinc-
tively over the butt ‘of his gun as his narrowing eyes
fell upon the strange man who stood leaning against
one of the doorposts.

It was Frank Merriwell, and, as Rowdy appeared,
he smiled pleasantly.

“Hello,” he drawled. “I’d begun to think there
wasn’t anybody at home, nor likely to be.”

There was a rather sheepish look on the puncher’s
face as he withdrew his hand quickly from his gun.
Something in the face of the stranger and in his
honest, open smile told him that he had nothing to
fear in that quarter. His scowl relaxed a little as
he slipped to the ground and came forward.

“Howdy,” he remarked, a little abruptly. ““Want to
see me?”

There was a barely perceptible pause before Merri-
well answered. He had been taking in the “paint”
horse, Meredith rode with a swift, keen scrutiny, in
which was a hint of startled surprise, well concealed.
Then he turned back to Rowdy.

“T certainly do,” he smiled, “if you can tell me
whether John Carroll’s ranch is hereabouts. I used
to know him years ago in Wyoming, and, since I was
passing, I thought I’d look him up. My name is
Frank “Merriveell.”

The look of suspicion which had leaped into Mere-
dith’s face at the mention of Carroll vanished swiftly
under the genial influence of Merry’s manner.

“Why, shore,” he said, almost pleasantly. “Old
Man Carroll’s ranch house is about eight miles due
west. It’s gettin’ on to dinner time, though, an’ |

reckon yuh’d better stop an’ take pot luck with us.

I'm Rowdy Meredith, an’ this i is my side kicker, Red

   

      
     
    
   
   
    
     
     
     
 

  
  
 
  
   
 
    
   
  
   
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
    
     
       
       
     
     
   
 

 

 

_—

 

14 ‘ak ye
Frank shook hands with them both.
“T’m sure glad to meet you boys,” he said; “and [’ll

take you up quick. JI haven't had anything to eat
since around five this morning, and I’m feeling plenty
empty.” : :

He hesitated an instant, and glanced swiftly
horse again.

“You'll excuse my mentioning it,” he went on in-
terestedly; “but that ‘paint horse’ you've got is~a
mighty good-looking cayuse. You don’t happen to
have any more like him, do you?”’

Rowdy grinned. He was extraordinarily fond of
“Bill,” as he called the pinto, and, had Frank known
it, one of the quickest ways of getting into his good
graces was a little judicious praise of that animal.

“T reckon not,” he returned, with emphasis. “I
ain’t never seen one like him as long as I’ve been
punching. He’s as good a pony as a feller’d want to
have, and his looks shore is distinctive. I sometimes
thought the markin’ was jest a little too outlandish,
‘cause yuh can tell him about as far off as yuh can
see him. I. got pinched more’n once when I was work-
in’ for Old Man Carroll. I’d sneak off to town with-
out tellin’ him, an’ he’d find out by noticin’ that Bill
wasn't with the remuda,

at the

or else catch sight of him a
mile or so,off when he wouldn't look twice at another
horse.”

- Frank walked up to the animal and began examining
him closely.

“You naturally wouldn’t want to sell him, then?”
he remarked.

“Nix!” retorted the puncher emphatically, as he
fastened the reins to the hitching rack. “Tl have to
be harder up than I am now to do that.”

He turned to follow Red, who had already vanished
into the house. Frank brought up the rear more
slowly, pausing for an instant‘to pass one hand lightly

_ over the animal’s smooth coat.
\

“Mighty odd,” he murmured, under his breath.
looks like the same horse, all right, all right.
then

But

 

p

CHAPTER VIII.
BY THE LIGHT OF THE MOON.
Miss Carroll was awaiting Merry’s return with Jill-
concealed impatience. It seemed as if he had been gone

a much longer ‘time than he had expected. She did
wish he would come soon. Another half hour, and

her uncle would probably return, which would ef-

Th 5

_one long.’

 

WEEKLY.
fectually put an end to anything like a confidential

talk between the two.
He had appeared barely ten minutes after Frank's

 

departure, but Rose had said nothing to him of the
unexpected caller. She judged—as. did Merry—that

there would be nothing gained by it, and possible
harm might be done, considering the older man’s firm
conviction that Rowdy was a cattle thief.

George Kerr had appeared early in the afternoon,
and, finding that Mr. Carroll was down in the south
had followed him thither. Rose wondered
petulantly what was up now. Nobody ever confided
anything to a woman—anything important, that is.
What plot were they hatching now? Something about
Rowdy, and, an inward determina-
tion to wheedle the information out of her long-suf-
fering uncle in some manner,

pasture,

no doubt: with

back again to Merriwell and the probable success or

failure of his mission. :

It was very late when he rode up. But he came di-
rectly to the kitchen, leaving his horse fastened to the
hitching rack.

“Well?”
time to get out a word.

“Quite well,

had

she greeted Hibt eagerly, etree he

he smiled back.’ “I hope you didn’t

expect me to solve the mystery in three hours and_

‘come back with the guilty man in my pocket; because
I haven’t. I had dinner with Meredith, as I planned
from the start, and found*him an even nicer chap
than I expected—which was saying a good deal.’’®

‘And that’s all?”

‘Almost all,” he returned. “If it’s any satisfaction
to you, I'll say that there’s absolutely no doubt in my
mind of Meredith’s innocence.
couldn’t do a thing like that if he tried.”

She pouted charmingly...

“Dear me! I could have told you that.”

“No doubt,” Merry chuckled; “but your, opinion is
apt to be biased. Besides, a person likes to decide
those thing first hand.”

“Have you any idea as to who * she began.

“Nothing definite,’ Frank put in quickly. “There
is just a notion which to-morrow will show the truth
or falsity of. But you may be sure that with both of
us so intent on solving the mystery it cannot remain
Has your uncle come in yet?”

“No, He should have been here half an hour ago,
but I suppose that Kerr man has kept him.”

 

Merry sprang to” his feet, a strange light in his’

eyes.

A fellow of his caliber

EP GE 8

x _ eee er

re

her thoughts veered. ~

 

 

 

 

      
       
   
    

  

eae

 

eat hides t 8

 

SP I ae

 

 

  
    

 

 
 

   
  
      
   
    
    
     
       
  
   

he is.

TIP’ TOP

“IXerr—here ?”’ he exclaimed sharply.

“Ves he rode in about three o'clock, and, when he
found that uncle was down at me south pasture, he
went on at once. But why

She broke off as Frank stepped swiftly to the door
and flung it open. He had scarcely done so when out
of the darkness sounded the voice of John Carroll.

“Well, good night, Kerr. I'll take your advice.”

“You'd better,” came in response. .“By-by.”’

A Jook of disappointment flashed into Merry’s face
as he heard the sound of hoofs thudding over the
turf as some one rode away from the house.

 

“T wouldn't know his voice, anyhow,” he mur-
mured.

The next instant there was an exclamation—almost
a roar—of surprise as John Carroll made out the face
of his unexpected visitor in the light from the old
lamp on the table near by.

The ranchman was more than delighted to see fin,

and for some time the kitchen resounded with eager

questions and answers about what had happened since
they had Jast seen one another; how. was this one and
that, and where had so-and-so last been heard from.

It was at least a quarter of an hour before Carroll,
catching a glimpse of his niece’s face, was aroused to
a sense of his neglected duty.

“By jinks!’ he exclaimed. “If I didn’t forget to

introduce you to Rose.”

“Much too late, uncle,’ smiled that young woman.
“Mr. Merriwell and I are great friends, Did you sup-
pose we were going to sit here like two sticks for an
hour or more waiting for you to take your own sweet
time coming in?”

Despite her bantering tone, there was a little touch
of earnestness in her voice which made Carroll hasten
to change the subject. |

“Well, how’d you find me out, Frank?” he asked
quickly. “I didn’t know as I’d ever told you jest
where I was located.”

“Oh, yes, you did. “Or I learned it from one of the

oe boys on the T Bar. I was coming up from Mexico,
and I decided to give you a surprise.
ne tions they gave me at Rustler were a bit vague, but I
ran into a nice young chap named Meredith, some miles
Very decent fellow

The direc-

east of here, who put me straight.
You're lucky in having him as a neighbor.”
The ranchman scowled. | o |
m “Humph! !’ he grunted. “You think so, do you?”

He was oe to renee his Hants still f urther on the

 

 

 

 

 

WEEKLY. rs

“Jest come into my room,” he remarked, leading the
way into the hall. “You can slick up there for supper
First man comes in, Rose, tell him to look after Mr
Merriwell’s horse.”

He could scarcely wait to slam the door before burst-
ing into a recital of the events of the past two days
and the trouble he was in due to his niece’s obstinate
refusal to listen to reason.
he concluded,

“It’s as clear a case as I ever saw,”

with some heat. ‘The scoundrel ought to be hauled
up before the judge at Amarillo and given the limit.
But I can’t do a thing without getting Rose down on
my neck, an’ if I do that I may as well move out and
leave the place to her. She’s as nice a girl as you ever
see, but she’s got a temper of her own and a: will of
rampage

 

her own,
Whew!”

Merry had listened to the story with every appear-
ance of interest, but without putting in a word.

“It does look pretty bad,’ he now agreéd; “but still
I can’t believe that this Meredith is up to such tricks
as that. Why, he struck me as the straightest, most
decent chap I’d seen in a long while; and I’m not a
bad judge of character, as you may remember.”

and. when she gets on the

“] know all that. It’s the way we all sized him
up until now. But facts is facts, ay’, what’s more,
Kerr was here this afternoon to warn me that I'd bet-
ter be on the lookout for more of it. He says, and
quite rightly, too, that the son of a gun will bank on
my lettin’ him alone on Rose’s account, and very likely
he’ll be turning the trick again. So I’m going to take
a little ride out that way to-night and see e there's
anything doing.”

“T’d be glad to keep you company,” vee said
quietly. “That is, if you want me.”

“Course I do,” Carroll responded heartily. “I was
going alone, not wanting any of the boys to get wise
jest yet; but I’d be glad enough to have you.”

There was a momentary silence during which Merry
seemed to be:thinking deeply.

“This Kerr advised you to keep a watch, did he?”
he asked presently.

“Ves; the idea came to him that Rowdy would likely —

be at it again, so he dusted over to tell me. He’s all
to the good, Kerr is. If it wasn’t for him, I'd never

have suspicioned it for a minute, and in another couple.
of weeks you couldn't have told the brands from the =

last lot I sold him.”

There was a curious veiled look in Merty’s eyes.

“Yes, no doubt he’s a good neighbor,’

’ he saic

  
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
   
 
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
   
    
   
   
  

  

LP TOP

quietly. “By the way, did he—er—suggest any. par-
ticularly likely place for this thing to be pulled off?”

Carroll hesitated.

“Well, not exactly. We talked the matter over and
decided that the steers would naturally be taken from
the bunch in the upper pasture, which is nearest
Rowdy’s land. It’s a kind of bad place to watch from,
though. We can’t get much closer than half a mile
without being seen. This moon makes the flat lands as
bright as day, almost.’”” .

So it was that about ten o’clock the two sallied forth.
No word had been said to Rose of the proposed expe-
| dition; the ranchman would not hear of it, and Frank
as had no reason for urging that she should be told.

They roped a couple of horses from the number
in the corral and, saddling up quietly, were off without
any one about the ranch being the wiser.

The moon was not quite in its full, but gave ample
light for them to see quite clearly at least half a mile
_in-every direction. The upper pasture was quite two
| miles from the house, but even before they reached it
Ay inid they could see the bright gleam of a fire toward the
A farther side of it. | :

The sight filled Carroll with fury.

 

“You see that!’ he frothed.
Oe He’s got to work, all right. I wish I could catch him
red-handed.”
-~—s- “T wish you could,” Merry agreed quietly. “Let's

get as close as we can. Perhaps we may catch a glimpse

of him before he sees us.”

Once through the gates they dismounted and led

their horses at a walk across the great inclosure
; - which must have been at least a mile wide. The in-
| equalities of the ground helped them not a little, and

in less’ than fifteen minutes they were within half a
mile of the fire and could see a shadowy figure work-
ing actively over something on the ground which they
had no doubt was a cow, roped and thrown.

Suddenly Carroll grasped his companion’s arm.

“There’s his horse!” he hissed. “D’you see? To

the right of the fire. If that ain’t his ‘paint’ horse,
Bill, Pll eat my chaps.”

There was no need for. Merry to look closely. He
had seen the telltale horse several seconds before and
- \was scrutinizing it with the keenest intentness. There
* could be no mistake as to its identity. The strange,
almost grotesque, marking could be distinguished even

said that very afternoon that there was no other ani-
mal like him in that part of the country. It fol-

7

 

“The miserable coyote !

farther away than they were. Rowdy Meredith had’

WEEKLY.

lowed; therefore, that it must be Rowdy’s horse, un-
less-—— :

There were two alternatives, but Frank had no time
to pursue either. Carroll suddenly straightened up
with an angry snarl.

“T can’t stand it another minute,” he whispered
fiercely. “I’m going after him.”

And before Frank could say a word he had flung
himself on the back of his bay and was tearing over
the ground toward the fire,,revolver in hand, preparing
evidently to shoot.

CHAPTER IX.
SUSPICIONS,

Frank was in the saddle in an instant and racing
after him. He had hoped to creep up a little nearer
the busy marauder so that there might be a chance of
catching him before he could get away, but the ranch-
man’s impetuosity spoiled all that. |

From the amazing agility with which the brand
plotter flung himself on his horse and was off at a,
furious gallop, one might almost suppose that he was
expecting interference. He was in action before Car-
roll had made more than fifty feet, flying eastward
at. a speed which showed at once the hdpelessness of
either of his. pursuers overtaking them on mounts
which, though fair, could not be compared for an in-
stant with the speedy “paint” horse. : &

With a furious exclamation, the ranchman fired
thrice in rapid succession after the flying man; but
no shot took effect, and before they had reached the
fire, the unknown had disappeared in the darkness.

As Carroll sprang to the ground and ran up to the
struggling steer, the air was fairly blue with furious
expletive. | et
\ “Look at that!” he frothed. “Just as I thought.
Branded Eight Bar Eight over.my X Bar S. "By thun-

der! If I don’t get that fellow’s scalp to-morrow

‘morning my name isn’t John. Carroll.”

Merry had dismounted and was cutting the rope
which bound. the steer. The animal scrambled to its
feet snorting wildly; then, with a frightened bellow, it
turned tail and ran lumberingly toward the herd,
which could be dimly seen bulked in a corner of the
pasture. ris zs

“TI don’t think I’d be in such a hurry, if I were

yoti,” Merry remarked quietly, his eyes following the _
“You don’t want to get an innocent;

retreating animal.
man into trouble, I ddppose.” j

 
       
 

   
   

 
   
 

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amazement.
Ain’t you

~ one

“Innocent man!’ roared Carroll, in
“Say, what in time are you talking about?

_just seen him with your own eyes? Why, there ain’t
_ another horse like Bill in the country.”
Frank smiled a little.
| “That may be true enough,” he returned; “but it

doesn’t necessarily follow: that the man’s Meredith,
does it? He'd be a good deal more of a fool than I size
him up to be to undertake a risky business like this
on an animal anybody for miles around would recog-
nize as far as he could see. He’s got other mounts,
hasn’t he?” :

“Sure,” the ranchman admitted, rather grudgingly ;
‘ “but none of ’em’s in the running with Bill. He'd
naturally take the fastest one he’s got.”’

 

Frank shook his head decidedly.

“Not when that one happens’ to be stich a eee
mark as Bill,” he’protested, good-humoredly. “You'll
- _ have to agree. with me, Carroll, if you look at .
matter calmly and reasonably. I'll stake my reputation
that not only is Meredith innocent, but that the guilty
man is riding a ‘paint’ horse on purpose to throw the
blame onto his:shoulders. It’s not at all an impossible
thing to have sneaked Rowdy’s horse out of the corral
after those fellow’s are asleep, or it might b
horse altogether.”

 

e another

nin Fis pits os SRL EN Sia

ibe:
Foye

“He might have got Rowdy’s horse, I'll admit,”
Carroll said quickly; “though it would be a mighty
ticklish job to get him away and bring him back with-
___ out being caught. But there ain’t a chance of it being
another cayuse. Bill was bought from me, and I'd
know him anywhere.”

   

 

_ By this time they had mounted again and were rid-
ing slowly back toward the ranch house.

“Just let me tell you something, Carroll,” Frank

said quietly. “That horse of Mefedith’s is such a dead
spit of one I used to have on the T Bar that this morn-
ing I had to look him over pretty carefully to make
: sure he wasn’t the same.’ ;

ye ~ “You don’t say!” exclaimed the ranchman. “What
become of yours?” |

“T sold him,’ Merry .eturned.

Carroll scratched his head in a puzzled fashion.

* “Weil,” he drawled, “W yoming’s a long ways from
Texas, an’ it don’t seem likely he’d drift down this way,
especially ‘without any one’s You've sort
of got me on the fence, though, Merriwell. If Rowdy
didn’t turn this trick, who in time did? Fellows
- don’t run around blotting brands for the fun of getting
a chap like Rowdy into trouble.”

seeing him.

  

THES Tor

 

   

 

      
    
    
  
  
   
 
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
    
  
 
    
    
  
 
 
 

WEEKLY. 17
“They might if they had sufficient reason,” Merry
put in quickly. /
“But who has? Rowdy’s had some run-ins, of
course, and there’s a few guys over to Romero that
don’t love him any too much, but they ain’t"the sort
do a risky thing like this for the sake of
Say, have you got any suspicions your-

that would
getting even.
self, Frank?”

Merry hesitated for an instant.

“Well, yes, I have,” he admitted. “But it’s the
barest sort of.a gtiess without any proof at all to back
it. Look here, Carroll. Will you keep your hands off
for twenty-four hours and give me a chance to do a
little detective work?”

He

From the

vas beginning to re-
good humor. first. he had not
been at all anxious to saddle this crime upon the shoul-
man he liked as he had Rowdy Meredith;

The ranchman laughed.
cover his

ders of'a
but the proof had seemed so complete that no other

> ¥. 2 ‘

solution of the problem appeared. possible.
After all, a man must look to his own interests first
and and there is nothing which rouses a

as this sort of

foremost,
cattleman’s ire as quickly and thoroughly
But if there was the slightest chance of Mer-
Carroll was’ very

thieving.
riwell’s fixing the blame elsewhere,
glad to hold off and give him time to do it.

“Why, sure thing,” he returned. ‘I'd be 'thunder-
ing glad to have Rowdy let out. of it, and there ain't
a doubt that it would put me in good with Rose. I
tell you, Frank,.it ain’t a bit pleasant to think how
she’d go on if I had to put this through. But can’t
you give me a hint as to how the wind blows?” ‘

Frank shook his head. ae

setter not. I don't know anything for certain,
but by to-morrow night I think I may be sure one way
or another.”’

 
 

The ranchman had to be contented with that, and,
reaching the ranch house, they turned the horses into
the corral and went straight to bed. 2

 
     
     
 

Directly after breakfast next morning, Frank started, _
off. He told no one—not even Rose—where he was .
going; for until he had proofs of some sort he felt
that it would not be fair to throw even the shadow cf
suspicion on one who might, after all, be quite inno-

cent. ie

    
   
       
     
   
   
 

The girl was a trifle piqued at this seeming lack of
confidence, and tried a little wheedling,
result.» Merry simply laughed at her.

 
 

quite without

      
 

“Tt isn't a bit of use, my dear,” he smiled. “That \
little pout is perfectly charming, but you should re-

    
 

 

  

'
TFSI TY RA NI NI Tey

   
 
 
 
  
  

  

 
 
 

 

-_

18 LIP FOP

serve it for some of these boys who have a heart to

lose. I’ve given mine away, you know.”

She flushed and bit her lips, and then burst out
laughing in spite of herself.
“Go along with you!” she cried. “You haven't

even got me thinking to myself that all the really nice

men are married. If you had,’ she added mischie-
vously, “I wouldn’t acknowledge it.”

“Brave girl,’ laughed Merry. “It really takes cour-

age not to say the thing everybody else says. Per-
haps I shall have some good news for you when I come
back. Don’t wait dinner for me on any account.”

He leaped into the saddle and, with a parting wave
of his hand, down the gentle incline: toward
the nearest gate.
and rode for five or six miles before making south
again.

He had a suspicion that George Kerr would pay an

started
Once through it, he turned due west

early visit to the X Bar S headquarters to ascertain how
much John Carroll had discovered the night before,
and he did not wish to encounter the fellow who seemed
to have such an abnormal interest in the affairs of
other people.

It was Kerr, of course, whom he suspected. At
first he could scarcely have analyzed his reasons for
this suspicion. It was more a sort of intuition, coupled
with the fact that Kerr was the discoverer of the
brand blotting, rather than anything out of the way
in the man’s actions.

Up to a certain point, the latter had been perfectly
reasonable.. A man making the discovery he had
made would naturally do exactly what he had done.
But when it came to his suggestion that Carroll keep
watch for a repetition of the outrage, which was fol-
lowed so quickly by a verification of his prediction at
almost the identical spot he had mentioned, the thing
ceased to be reasonable and natural, and became sig-
nificant.

To begin with, apart from Merry’s

Meredith could not be the guilty party, no man in his
_ senses, knowing that his crime had been discovered,
_ would repeat it in that almost barefaced manner.
_ Kerr’s reasoning that Meredith was banking on the in- ,
ris - fluence of Rose Carroll to escape punishment seemed to
have gone with the older ranchman, but Merriwell
rejected it instantly as absurd.

conviction that

Rowdy knew nothing whatever of the girl’s sudden
change of mind. He supposed her still set against
him. Why, therefore, should she interfere in his
behalf? |

: ‘The matter of the horse was a final argument in

 

WEEKLY.

Meredith’s favor, and convinced Frank that some one

was doing his best to throw the blame on the innocent
cow-puncher. What the motive was, and whether Kerr
was the guilty man, were questions which Merry hoped
to have answered very soon; for he was on his way

‘to the latter’s ranch to have a quiet look around, and
see what he could discover in the probable absence of
the owner.

CHAPTER' X.

A VOICE FROM NOWHERE.

The country to the south of the X Bar S land was de-
A
marked the northern boundary of the property belong-
ing to George Kerr, and not far from the farther
bank stood his ranch house, stables, and other build-

cidedly irregular and broken. fair-sized stream

ings, all of which had been erected by a former owner.

The stream had worn quite a little cafion. for itself,
and on both sides masses of rock jutted out here and
there, alternating with gullies which shelved up to the
level plain.

Reaching the mouth of one of these, Merry paused
and surveyed the situation. He could see the top of
a roof just showing above the other bank, and decided
at once that it was one of the ranch buildings, and
that the more fertile grazing land lay beyond it. —

This simplified things greatly, for the hands would)

be scarcely likely to come in this direction at all. Cer-
tainly they could have no legitimate reason for so
doing, and it would be quite safe to leave his horse in
one of the gullies and continue on foot.

Having come to this decision, he proceeded down
the gully and forded the stredm. A little search was
necessary before he came upon a suitable hiding place
for the horse, but it was found at last, the animal tied
securely to a scraggly mesquite, and Merry started at
once to scale the bank at a point considerably to one:

side of the building he had seen, but which was now

invisible.
Five minutes later he reached a spot from which he -
had a good yiew of the entire group of buildings, as
well as the wide stretch of land ae southward from
them. '
‘The ranch house stood farthest away ‘fromShim on,
the left, while closer at hand bulked the stable, wagon
shed, and a number of other outhouses, large and |

 

 

 

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small. dk

  
 

It was some minutes before Merry made a move
The thin column of smoke from the ranch house chit

 
 

 

ape _ os

Wane

Sig Tina gal Rt 5S Sones gate

    

    
 

 

 
     
    
    

   
     
 

 

 

 

 

11P GP

ney told him that there was some one about, but it
was the only visible sign of life; and he decided that
there was small risk of that some one leaving the
warm kitchen for the rather bitter, windy outdoors.

Reaching this conclusion, he arose to his feet and
sauntered calmly toward the stable. There was scarcely
a chance of his being seen from the house, and, if he
was, attention was much more apt to be attracted to
him if he crept stealthily over the ground than if he
approached in the ordinary manner; like one of the
hands.

* Passing along the west wall of the stable, he took
a careful survey from the corner of the biilding before
slipping in at the half-opened door. It was a great
barn of a place, full of the accumulated dirt and rub-
bish of years, and quite deserted. ~The hands were
doubtless all at work on another part of the ranch.

He picked his way caréfully through the semigloom
of the big, open space, stepping over pieces of broken
harness, discarded saddles, rusty parts for windmills,
and a thousand and one odds and ends, most of them

perfectly useless, until he reached a door at the side
leading into another part of the building.

Entering, he found this to be the stable proper. All
along one side ranged a line of stalls, broken down, rot-
ting away, and quite empty.

“Don’t look as if there was much of anything here,”
Frank muttered, rather disappointedly.

_He walked slowly down the length of the shed,
peering into each stall, until suddenly, about halfway
along, he stooped quickly and picked up a couple of
branding i irons which had been thrown carelessly there.

‘“Humph!” he muttered, as he ran his eyes over
eis

One was straight and the other curved. They were
exactly the irons he would have picked out, had he been
going to brand a steer with Rowdy’s 8 Bar 8. It also

seemed: rather odd to find them in the stable, but in a
ay ee: untidy place like this, that proved very little.
__ As he stood looking at them, Merry gave a ‘sudden

kat part, and raised his head swiftly.

- From somewhere not far away came the ;mpatient,
es ‘restless stamp $f a horse. |

Without a moment’s delay, he put a the irons

’

and passed quickly on to the end of the shed. It took
but: an instant to open the door here, and he, with
St

difficulty, suppressed an exclamation of triumph as he

saw fastened in the shut-in box stall—for that was all

the little room amounted re “paint” ni which

_even that isn’t the real one.

 

WEEKLY.

“Things are looking up, my boy,” he murmure.
“You look pretty good to me, old fellow.”

At the sound of his approach, the horse looked
around inquiringly.

“Hello, Monte,” Merry said quietly, stepping to the
animial’s side.

The creature pricked up its ears and gave a little
whinny as Frank passed one hand over the smooth
neck.

“Greatest thing I ever saw,”
“Tt doesn’t seem possible that two horses can be so
like. I could almost believe you're Bill, after all. But,
of course, the brand will tell.”

He stepped quickly around to the horse’s flank, and,
bending over, scrutinized it closely. There was one
clearly defined brand, a double triangle, which he hap-
pened to know was Kerr’s. There was also another
spot, which looked rather more like a map of Texas
than. anything else, so crisscrossed were the many lines

Merriwell murmured.

and curves.

It was a palpable attempt to erase some other brand,
and-Merry’s eyes gleamec 1 as he passed one hand care-
fully over it.

“Tt’s a T Bar down at the bottom,” he said at length,
in a tone of extreme gratification. “And you're Monte,
all right. I rather think that will settle the question
to the satisfaction of every one, except, perhaps——

“Hands up!” came in a stern, harsh voice from be-
hind him, “I’ve got you covered, you meddling son
of a gun!”

Merry straightened up, and, turning around, saw
standing in the doorway a tall, lean man with a thin,
hatchet face, out of which gleamed dark eyes which
were full of a fury, not unmixed with alarm. It was
a familiar face, though on the one occasion he had
seen it the hair had not been black nor had the short,
straight upper lip been clean-shaven.

Frank smiled coolly. .

“Ah! You, Johnson,”
unmistakable significance.

he said att but with

The man gave a start, and scowled fiercely.

“You've got another guess coming,”
“My name’s Kerr, not Johnson.”

“Perhaps it is—now,” Frank returned quietly. “It
used to be Johnson up in Wyoming. Quite possibly
I might have guessed that
you'd be up to your old tricks of brand blotting, but I
never thought BY

_ He broke off abruptly, moved thereto by the expres- :
sion of fury which had flashed into the other’s face. |

he said angrily.

.

 
   
  
  

SP saga AT aa NO A are Pr ap ae EL TE SS OT RS ae ee

REO ER I a TENS 9 RRR ae

  

FP FED I ERO RT

     
  
   
 
  
   
   
    
  
  
  
  
   
    
  
   

20 | TIP TOP

Merry realized that he had been rather indiscreet to
beard a man who had him in his power. It would
have been better not to have said quite so much. But,
though he relapsed into silence, there was no sign of
fear or even nervousness in Merry’s face. To look
at him one would never have supposed for an instant
that he was not having the pleasantest possible talk
with an old friend.

“Well!” snarled the dark man. “You might as well
goon. What was it you never thought?”
Frank shrugged his shoulders.
“It’s not especially important,” he said carelessly;
“Dut I was about to remark that I never thought you'd
put up a cowardly game like this on a man who had
never done you any harm. ‘Though why, after all, you
shouldn't I’m sure I don’t know. You're capable of
almost anything.”
He had seen at once that anything like a concilia-
tory attitude would be of no avail whatever, so he
deliberately endeavored to rouse the man to a fury,
it: trusting that he might lose control of himself and
a give Merry some slight chance of turning the tables.
The effort was quite successful.
A sudden rush of blood turned Kerr’s face fairly
purple; his eyes flashed fire, and his white teeth show ed
in a ferocious snarl.

. Unfortunately, however, he kept his gun perfectly
Ae steady, and quickly regained control of himself.
| “That's what you think, is it?’’ he said presently, in
a steely voice. “Well, I'll tell you what I’ve got to
say: You've picked up about all the nerve that’s lying
around loose, Merriwell, but this time you’ve done for
yourself. If you think I’m going to let you come

trying to trip me up, you're dead wrong. Perhaps it
will interest you to know that I had a very good reason
for w ishing this Meredith out of the way. I’ve taken
quite a fancy to that ladylove of his, and as soon as
he’s shipped to Austin or gets strung up by the boys—
it don’t make much matter which—I’m going to marry
her. Furthermore, I’ve been doing some stunts with
Old Man Carroll’s stock on my own hook, and it’s al-
_ ways a good plan to direct folks’ attention somewhere,

 
 

_ the line to Mexico.”

ms He paused, and a grim, ominous, ‘extremely unpleas-
_ant'smile curved his thin lips. | ‘
_. “You notice I ain’t keeping any secrets from you,”
he went on.significantly. “For why? The answer's
simple as A BC. I got you here alone. There ain't

  

 

,amazingly like the voice of John Carroll.

snooping around here, butting in on my affairs and —

else about the time you get ma to make a drive over —

 

  

WEEKLY.

nobody around that’ll be the wiser if. I put a plug into
you that’ll stop all them things you know about me
from being let loose. Savvy?

‘rank threw back his head and laughed.

“Do you know, Johnson, or Kerr, or whatever you
call yourself,” he remarked, still chuckling, “you amuse
me extremely. Do you suppose for an instant Id stick
my head into a lion’s jaw without having some sort
of a prop to keep those jaws from closing? You've
got me wrong. Knowing you as I do, would I be at
all likely to come here alone? Pshaw! It’s been rather
diverting, though, for the past five minutes, to seé
from where I stand one of my friends covering you
all the time you’ve been threatening me with all sorts
of unpleasant fates.”’

He laughed again, and glanced at a point a little

to one side of the tall man’s head.

A look of incredulity leaped into Kerr’s eyes.

“No, you don’t!” he sneered. “You can’t catch me
with that trick. Why, that bluff come out of the ark.”

“Bluff!” snapped a voice from behind him—it was
“Drop that
gun, you coyote, an’ do it quick, or I'll let daylight
through you!” —

With a startled gasp, Kerr whirled around, lowering
the barrel of his gun as he did so; and his frightened
eyes encountered—nothing.

Too late he realized that he had been tricked. The.
instant the gun was diverted, Frank launched himself
through the air in a beautiful flying tackle which’caught
him deftly about the knees and brought him to the.
ground with a jarring thud, the gun flying several feet
away.

The ensuing stots was brisk but short. The out-—
law was strong and sinewy, but he was no match for
Frank Merriwell; and within ten minutes he was lying
helpless on the floor, his hands twisted behind his back
and tied with his own handkerchief, while his feet were

secured with the silken square Frank had worn about |

his neck.

f

} ® / ° . A
“Some people consider ventriloquism merely a par- —

lor trick,” the latter murmured, as he arose to his feet
and stood looking thoughtfully at his frothing captive; —
“but, do you know, Johnson, I’ve found it an ex- i
ceedingly nifty little accomplishment more than once?
I suppose it saved my life to-day, for I have no doubt —
you would have carried out your plan to the letter,”

   

The cattle rustler’s furious reply proving to be vol- |
canic, Merry sighed gently.
Me wouldn't, if I were you,” he drawled; “] rally,

  

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VIP < TOP

ii ee

wouldn’t. You might burst a blood vessel, and then
- you would go there yourself.”

Seeing that no heed was paid to his admonition, he
drew his gun and placed the end of the barrel against
KKerr’s forehead.

“T really must ask you to be less noisy,” ‘he re-

/ marked casually.

 

“Although it would be a great pleas-

%)

 

ure to shoot the top of your head off, the law
j He broke off, with a smile, as the man relapsed into

 

instant silence.

“That’s better. Well, I suppose we shall have to
cut short this pleasant chat. I’m a little
I’m curious to know
what he'll say when he sees Monte, too. He told me
yesterday that there wasn’t another animal like his
Bill in all Texas. He’ll be a bit surprised, I imagine.”

‘Talking thus in a pleasant, drawling tone, he yanked
a saddle from a peg and proceeded to put it on the
_ “paint” horse with swiftness and dispatch. That done,
he loosened the outlaw’s legs and helped him to his
feet.

A door opened out: of the little shed, and through
this they walked, Kerr in front, with Merry, holding

anxious to
take you over to see Meredith.

his revolver in one hand and the bridle reins in the
_ other, coming close behind.

In this order they proceeded down the bank to the
_ point where Frank had left his own horse. Here they
_ mounted, Merry taking Monte as being much the
_ faster of the two, and proceeded in a northeasterly
direction.
_ All sorts of desperate plans for making a break fet
freedom raced through Kerr's mind, but his hands
_ were still fastened tightly behind his back, he was quite
unarmed, and, though Frank enlivened the way with
occasional talk, which seemed casual and almost care-
"less, the cattle rustler saw that not a movement he
made escaped his captor’s attention.

 

 

  

CHAPTER XI.
THE SHADOW OF A NOOSE,

3 tt was a little after ten. Rote Carroll stood at the

  

a

course, where Merriwell was, and what he was hig

  

ingly to the closed door.

i ae kitchen window, thinking. She was wondering, of

WEEKLY. | | 21

The solution of the latter mystery was as simple as
it was obvious, Carroll was getting his accounts up to
date, that was all.

But Rose, like a good many other worhen, rejected
the obvious promptly. There must be some ulterior
motive, and, of course, that motive had something to
do with Rowdyeand the brand-blotting.

She was still puzzling over the matter, resolutely ig-
noring the voice of conscience, which told her that it
was high time to start the corned beef boiling for
dinner, when she observed a solitary horseman gallop-
ing toward the house from the eastern gate. —

Alkali,” she remarked, in a puzzled tone, recogniz-
ing one of the punchers who had gone to Romero late
the previous afternoon. ‘Now, what do you suppose
brings him back so soon?”

She might well be surprised, for when Alkali struck
town he usually made a day of it. With brows still
wrinkled thoughtfully, she watched him lope up to the
door, swing himself off, throwing the reins over the
horse’s head as he did so, and clank into the kitchen.

“Boss here?”
him.

“Ves, What’s the matter, Alkali?”
The cow-puncher reached the door before he replied.

“Oh, nothin’,” he said, with elaborate carelessness,
and disappeared into the hall.

he inquired tersely, as she glanced at

in the office.

Miss Carroll compressed her lips, and frowned.
There is a tone which seems to be reserved for the

suppression of undue curiosity in the weaker sex—

sometimes, also, with children. This was it, and Miss

Carroll’s ire arose,
“Indeed !”
She tossed her head angrily.

“Humph!” she exclaimed.
“T’ll fix you, my brave laddie,”
“Just you wait,”

And then, there being no time to lose, she softly
opened the door and tiptoed down the hall to the office.
Here, the door likewise being closed, she at once placed
her ear to the keyhole -and listened intently. ‘She was

certain ‘that the cow-puncher must be the bearer of
news of some kind about the subject which was fore- —

most in her mind, and was determined to find out wink:
it was at any cost. ‘

‘Alkali was talking rapidly and emphatically.

“The gang was to start half an hour after I left. —

That jest about gives yuh time to git over there. They

wanted I should tell yuh to be shore an’ come, an ye
They're dead | set on givin’ i

bring along the hands.

 

she remarked scath- ©

Se casa

    
     
     
    
         
       
   
     
       
     
      
     
   
       
   
 

22 TIP eLOP

these brand blotters a lesson they won't forget in a
jiffy.”

“But I don’t understand,”
voice. “I don’t see how they came to know anything
about it.
wasn’t exactly sure he was the one.”

came in John Carroll's

“Tt was Kerr, I reckon. ‘They said as he was over
there early. Must have started afore sunup,
was gone back afore I got wind of it. But, say, boss,
shorely yuh ain’t goin’ to stay out of it? Why, it was
your stock-as was x”

‘cause he

“T don’t care whose stock it was!” roared the ranch-
man. “I’ve promised I’d keep my hands off till to-
night. What business have that Romero bunch got
butting in, anyhow? It ain’t any of their funeral, is
it? They'd ought to be stopped, and [ll be hanged
if I won’t get busy an’ do it!’

“Yuh can’t,”
of satisfaction in his voice.

Alkali replied tersely, and with a hint
“They're so worked up
Anyhow, they'll

over it that nothing would stop ’em.
be over there about as soon

Rose waited to hear no more. Pale and trembling,
she sprang lightly to her feet and ran back into the
kitchen.

They were after Rowdy! They would catch him
unprepared, and that would be the end. She had seen
one party start after a cattle thief, and she knew.

With a long, shuddering sigh, she caught the edge of
She must
The boys were all

the table to ste< acy herself. It was awful.
- think. Some one must warn him.
out on the range. Her uncle? She dared not trust to
him. He might not go. Alkali? She ground her
teeth angrily. He hated Rowdy, and was glad at

what was in store for him.

The next instant she had darted to the door and
snatched down a short, leather Coat lined with sheep-

skin. It belonged to one of the boys, but that did
not matter. Crowding her arms into it, she caught
up her wide, felt hat and fixed it on her head with a
jabbing thrust of a single long pin. Then, grabbing
some one’s leather gauntlets, ‘ite hurried to the door
and stepped outside.

_ She had meant to saddle her own horse, but that
meant added delay. Alkali’s stood there invitingly,
and, without hesitation, she sprang into the saddle and
was off for the gate.

She did not usually ride astride, as do most Western
girls, but there was no one to see, and she wouldn't
have cared if there had been. What did anything mat-
ter when they were comirg to kill Rowdy?

I haven’t said a word, even to you boys. I’

 

WEEKLY.

For it was that, no less. She did not deceive her-
self for an instant as to the intentions of the mob
which had sallied forth from Romero. She had been
in the West quite long enough to know what it meant
when men like that went after cattle thieves. They
would string him up to the nearest cottonwood, unless
he was warned in time to escape by flight.

What if she should not get there before those others ?
The thought drove her almost mad with terror, and
made her lash the horse fiercely with the leather quirt
she snatched from the horn where Alkali had left it
It should not be—it must not! She would

i Pr
get there in time.

dangling.

The animal reared, and for a moment Rose thought
he was going to pitch. With her heart in her throat,
she beat him over the head with all her strength, a
proceeding which evidently caused him to change his
mind, and break into a gallop.

She had no more trouble with him.
most to realize the vital need for haste, and did his
best, covering the ground at a gallop which only now
and then slowed down to a lope while he got his
breath.

She rode in silence, her face chalky, her lips quiv- -

ering, and her eyes wandering fearfully in the direc-
tion from which the mob would come.

At last she reached the fence and let down the bars.
Without troubling to put ‘them up again, she was
up and off, racing toward the cabin, w hich was now
in sight less than a mile away. She hoped and prayed
that he was there. She might never find him out in the
fields. .

Suddenly she gave a
two figures just Tigceuntne at the corral at one side
of the house. They turned their horses in, and then,
looking around, seemed to see her for the first time. :

gasp of relief as she made out

Without a pause, she kept straight on. It was
Rowdy. She could see his face now. Red Conners
was with him. They were both staring curiously to-
ward her. She laughed hysterically. Probably they
did not know her in this strange rig.

The next instant she dashed np to them and flung , ) a ;

herself out of’ the saddle. It was not surprising that
they had not recognized, in this dusty figure, with
smudged and streaky face, flying hair, and a coat miles

too big for her, the usually trim, Pay garbed Rose sy

Carroll.

She gave no thought to how she looked. She was
in time. With a sob of joy, she caught both lapels
of Bey s well-worn leather coat in her hands. .

He seemed al-.

Yee ee LE NT ERIE T IO RTT Oe,

 
_ enough, the thought never occurred to him.

TIP

“They're coming for you!” she gasped, raising her
“A mob from Romero. You
I heard them telling uncle.
I—was so afraid—I wouldn’t get here—in time.”
And then, overcome by the inevitable reaction, she

frightened eyes to his.
know—what that—means!

dropped her head down on the leather coat and began

to sob.
“Rose !”

“Rose !”

His face,

gasped the man, in a tone of wonder.

which at first had been hard and stern,

softened, and one arm slid naturally around her waist,

while the other big, gloved hand patted her back re-
 assuringly.

_ “TI was a beast,’ came in smothered tones. “The
ininute you had gone I knew you couldn't have done
it. But they were so sure, and I—I didn’t have time
to think before youcame. Oh, Rowdy, will you—ever
forgive me?”

Now was the time for Row dy to carry out his plans,
and repel her with cold, dignified finality; but, oddly
His gray
eyes were full of gladness, and the arm about her
waist tightened instinctively.

_ “Don’t think no more about it, Rose,” he said softly
“Tt shore hurt to have yuh turn me down, but that’s
all over now. We won’t talk about it no more.”

Conners, who had been viewing the proceedings
with unconcealed distaste and uneasiness, now broke in.

“This is all very nice an’ pretty,” he remarked.
“But seems like I heard Rose. sayin’ somethin’ about
a gang from Romero | |
“The girl threw up her head suddenly, her fears re-
-vived with full force.

_ “Heavens!” she cried. “Of course.
must go. They'll be here any minute.
stirred them up this morning, and Alkali said they were
- starting a half hour after him. Oh, hurry—please

hurry!”

Rowdy, you

_ The gray-e eyed cow- puncher frowned, and his chin

"squared determinedly.

_“Whyfor should I hurry?” he inquired shortly. “I
ain't done nothin’ to be ashamed of, and I shore ain’t
in’ to fun away and let ’em think I’m a cattle thief.”
ni “But they won't believe you,” the girl cried despair-
ngly. “They won't stop to ask questions. Oh, Rowdy,
on’'t be obstinate ! bd must eee pote I should
die if they caught you.” |
es oe ain't goin’ to catch me—alive,” Meredith re-
nai uh don’t at I’m goin’ to ‘stand

TOP

George Kerr

 

WEEKLY. | 23

no good to run away, neither. I couldn't cross the line
beiore some of em got onto me.”

“But you could hide somewhere,’ Rose suggested
frantically. ‘If you could keep them off for just a
Mr. Merriwell thinks he knows who did it, and
he’s finding out now. Oh,

She broke off abruptly, and her face turned white as
the thudding of many hoofs came to her ears. A
moment later a close-packed mob of men swept into
a knoll and headed straight for the cabin.
Conners smiled grimly.

“Well, hyer they come,” he drawled, hitching up his
chap belt. “Kinda settles the question fur yuh, don’t
it? I spose we'll hold the shack, hyer?”’

“T will,’ “Yuh ain't in on
this picnic, that I knows of.”

‘Aw, go to thunder!” Red retorted. “Yuh don't
think I’m goin’ to skip out an’ save my hide when
Nix, old boy! Guess again.”
resignedly, but there
He turned swiftly

day.
Rowdy, just

view over
Red

’ Rowdy returned calmly.

my pal’s in trouble.

Rowdy shrugged his shoulders
was no time for further argument.
to Rose.

“Climb on to Dixie, Rose, an’ get out of the way,”
he commanded. ~ “Quick, now! They'll be here di-
rectly, an’ I don’t want yuh mixed up in it.”

The girl’s face was still rather pale, but there was a
determined glitter in her eyes, and her lips were pressed
tightly together.

“Tm going with you.
you now.”

“I won't!” she retorted firmly.
Don’t you dare think I'll leave
Rowdy looked at her helplessly. He could not well
force her to go away. Then a yell of triumph arose

from the approaching horsemen, and Conners grasped

him by the arm.

“Come along!’ he ripped out etek,
about make it. Hustle!” |

They broke into a run for the cabin door, the girl
flying along with them. Darting inside, they slammed
the door sHut and dropped the heavy bar in place.
There were two windows, and one man hurried to
each and closed the solid shutters. |

That done, they proceeded to take down their Win-
chesters quickly, but without any signs of flurry, males
ing sure they were in good working order.

ward trepidation. |
fact attitude of both men reassured her.
ceased to tremble and her lips to quiver.

“Wec'n jest

if

‘Rose watched these warlike preparations with in--

But somehow the cool, matter-of-_
Her hands
She hadi
‘done her part, and the outcome rested with fate—and_
: ihn Come what might, at least suey. had ae "D,

 
   

and he knew that she had perfect faith in his inno-
cence. :

Winchester in hand, Rowdy came over to her.

“T wish yuh weren't here, Rose,” he said anxiously.
“There'll likely be bullets flyin’ an’ all kinds of trouble.
Why didn’t yuh do what I told yuh, an’ get away?”

Her eyes were bright, and her lips smiled bravely.

“Because I love you, dear,” she said quietly. “Be-
cause I’d rather a thousand times be with you here
than safe somewhere else.”’

He did not speak at once; perhaps he could not.
Then he patted her shoulder.

“TI oughter be sorry, but somehow I ain't,
softly.

Then the thunder of hoofs about the cabin roused
him to action again.

“Get back, now, and keep in the corner!”
his eyes flashing. “They’re here.”’

Without a word, she scurried over to the spot he
indicated, and Rowdy stepped to Conners’ side, near
the door.

“Might as well come out an’ give yourself up, Mere-
dith,” yelled some one outside. “We got yuh cor-
nered.”’ : :

Rowdy laughed.
| “Maybe so; but yuh haven’t got me yet, by a long
shot, Clay,” he retorted. “Yuh don’t think I’m goin’
to walk out like a lamb an’ put my neck in a noose?”

“Tell him you didn’t do.it,” put in Rose from her
corner. “They might go away.” |

“Not them,” Rowdy grinned.
lieve me. © Still, if you’re set on it

“Tf yuh don’t come out nendeable® said the man
called Clay, “we'll jest shorely shoot the shack full o’
holes, an’ mebbe kill Conners an’ that other feller yuh
got there.”

-Rowdy frowned.

“Say, Clay,” he remarked through the heavy plank-
ing of the door, “hold off for a minute while I talk to
yuh, will yuh?” )

There was a momentary pause, a then the man
t

called back:

“All right, but it won’t be much use.” <°
_ Without delay, Rowdy unbarred the door and swung
it partly open. Some twenty-five or thirty men were
clustered around the cabin, and as his eyes ranged
swiftly over their faces, the cow-puncher’s heart sank.
Not one of his friends was there, and it seemed as if
every enemy he had ever made in his life had gathered
BAe thisqinexpected opportunity of getting even. Those
who were not actual enemies were men he scarcely

”* he said

he said,

“They wouldn’t be-

99

 

Tie LE

 

 

 

WEEKLY.
knew—xstrangers from Romero
neighboring outfits who had come to this part of the
country after his departure from the X Bar S outfit. Ni
But, though disheartened, his face showed nothing of ie
what he felt.

“Look here, Clay,”

 

or punchers from

he said quietly; addressing the
leader of the party, “yuh ought to know me _ well
enough to see that I ain’t the man you're after. I don’t
know no more about this brand blotting than yuh do.

put up a game on me. I swear solemn
\

 

Somebody’s
that I didn’t do it.”

A look of incredulity came into the face of Clay, a
man who had once punched cows for Carroll and been

 

 

discharged for Hoos eres . Be |

“Kinda fishy, Rowdy,” he remarked. “It ain’t likely ire
anybody’s puttin’ money in your pocket that way, an’ sj),
yuh not know it. Can’t yuh think up a better story _ 4 k
than that?” . AH

Meredith flushed steely, and his hands clenched oa
tightly. He knew this would be the result of any at- ee
tempt at explanation, and wished he had: not tried it. |
Nor would he have, but for Rose. \ i)

He smiled grimly. 4 i

“With the gang yuh got, Clay,” he said significantly, a | /
“T don’t guess any story I told would go. They’retoo i
plumb crazy to get even for the little grudges they |
got against me.” ed

He hesitated an instant, thinking of what'might hap-
pen to Rose if he persisted in holding out. ‘

“Tf I give up, will yuh promise to take me to Romero.
for a fair trial?’ he asked presently.

Clay hesitated, and his eyes drooped.

“Why, shore,” he said the next instant, with a great
appearance of heartiness, though his eyes were still
averted. “That's what we come for, to take yuh

“You didn’t!” broke in a feminine =e hee
“You know you didn’t!’ 7

d Miss Carroll, flushed and Bredthiess; squeezed
gos Rowdy and faced the astonished crowd.

“Don’t you trust them, Rowdy,’ she went on, sweep-
ing the circle with scornful eyes. “They mean to string
you up. They'll never take you to Romero. Oh, you
cowards—you miserable cowards! If you were men,
you'd be ashamed to look me in the face. on you're. |
not men—just—just i 7

She paused, unable in hér excitement to find the right
word, and stamped her foot angrily. |

Rowdy caught her by the arm.

“Tt isn’t any use to talk to them, Rose,” he said, in —
a low tone. “They want me, and I reckon I'd better.
give myself )

 

 

 

 
  
 

  
 
 

 

 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  

 

  
 
 

    
       
     
    
 

 

   
TIP TOP

 

“VYou.shan’t!’’ she broke in. “I won't let you. Come
. ‘back into the cabin. You can stand off a lot of cow-
bi ards like that. I can shoot, and I will, too.”
3 She caught him by the arm and drew him backward.
Another minute, and the door had closed, leaving the
mob without irresolute and uncertain at this new de-

 

 

 

|) velopment.
ah
CHAPTER XII.
MERRY SPRINGS A SURPRISE, ,
\| |. For atime the crowd did nothing. The presence in
_ the cabin of the niece of one of the most prominent
% ranch owners in the country, himself the’ man who

alone had suffered from the depredations of the cattle
thief, made them hesitate as to whether to proceed with
|) their plans or not.

It seemed out of the question to make a regular
attack with guns on the shack. If Rose were injured
in the fray the consequences would be more serious
than any of them cared to face. .

But they were heated by the chase, and most of
them, really believing firmly in the guilt of Meredith,
were loath to relinquish the attempt to capture him.

“Looks like we’d have to bust the door in,”
|) them remarked presently. “We shore can’t shoot the
place up without running a chance of hitting the girl.”

Clay frowned uneasily.

“Vuh go bustin’ that door in without puttin’ him out
o’ business first, an’ there’ll be the mischief to pay, he

expostulated. ‘Him an’ Conners are both some shots,
an’ yuh don’t s’pose they’re goin’ to stand still while
we're smashin’ things?” |
3 | “Humph!” snorted another. “Yuh want to go off
an’ let him be?”

“Well, no, not exactly.”

“Tooks kinda that way,” retorted the other signifi-
cantly. “Well, boys, I move we get hold of a bit o’
_ timber and start things rollin’. ‘They cant shoot
through them logs, an’ they can’t get any kind of aim
through the door. We'd oughter find a beam around
the corral.” ,
oe number of them were starting in that direction,
when one, happening to glance toward the southwest,
stopped suddenly. | rns -

“Here comes a Couple of guys, an’ one of” em’s s ridin’
Meredith’s ‘paint’ horse,” he remarked.

_ There was a general craning of necks, and then Clay
sniffed socted oar

4

 

 

one of

 

   
   
      
   
   
   
  

99

  
  
 
   
  
  
   
  
 
  
  
  

   

< aia ie RS SO

     

WEEKLY. . | ae

“That ain't Rowdy’s horse, ‘cause I seen him in the

corral jest now. You're dotty.”

A somewhat acrimonious discussion promptly arose,
which ceased with equal suddenness as one of the ap-
proaching riders was recognized as Kerr.

“Well, Pll be hanged!”

some one exclaimed incred-

u lously. “Tt’s Kerr, an’ he’s got his hands tied. What
in time’s the meaning of:that? And. who's the gent

with him?”

No one being able to suggest a solution to the puz-
zle, they awaited the swift approach of the two riders
with every expression of curiosity.

The unknown was tall and muscularly built, and
there was. an expression on his clean-cut face which
showed that he was not a man to be trifled with. In
one hand he carried a serviceable-looking gun,

Kerr's face was sullen and downcast, and his eyes
full of impotent fury.

“Good morning, boys,” the stranger remarked calmly
when he had come within speaking distance. “TI hardly
expected to find so many of you calling on my friend
Meredith.” .

Clay’s eyes narrowed.

‘A friend o’ yours, is he?” he snapped. ‘“Mebbe you
won't mind tellin’ us who yuh are, an’ where yuh come
from, and likewise what in thunder you’ ve got George
Kerr tied up like this for?”

The man smiled agreeably.

‘+ “Not the. slightest objection in the world,”
turned pleasantly. “I suppose your curiosity is rather
natural. My name is Merriwell, and I come. from
Wyoming. At present I am staying with my friend
John Carroll at the X Bar S. As for this crook—

He indicated the man at his side with a motion of

his gun.

he re-

 

“His name happens not to be Kert, but Johnson. At

‘least, that -is the one he went by in Wyoming, where

he is very much wanted for cattle rustling and other
little irregularities. It seems to be quite a favorite
pastime with him, by the way, though I never knew.
him before to put anqther man’s brand on the stock
he stole for the express purpose of getting that inno-
cent man into trouble and hiding his own stealing.”

He paused, as exclamations of bewildered astonish-
ment arose from every side.

“This is all quite true,” he went on, when compara-
tive quiet was restored. “The horse I am riding—you
have noticed, no doubt, its strong resemblance to Mere-
dith’s Bill—was once my property, and was sold to
him before he began his little tricks. He used him in
this brand blotting deliberately to throw the blame on
  

LIP POP

Rowdy. Just why he hung onto such a distinctive
‘animal, I don’t know. . He’s a fine horse, and perhaps
Johnson thought that Texas was too far from Wyo-
ming for him ever to be discovered. Is there anything
more I can tell you, gentlemen?”
There was a good deal more.
ing manner, and the coherent and plausible story he
told, went far toward forcing most of the men present
to believe in the truth of his surprising assertions ; but
they were all eager to learn the details of how the mat-
ter had been discovered and in what manner \serr had
pursued his nefarious scheme.

As the story progressed, their rage and indignation
at the cowardly blackening of another man’s character
grew by leaps and bounds. Even men who had no love
for Rowdy Meredith joined in the general condemna-
tion and abuse which was heaped upon the outlaw’s
head.

“The coyote!” snarled one hulking rancher, when the
last word had been told. “He'd oughter be strung up.”

He stopped abruptly, and a gleam of satisfaction
leaped into his eyes.

“An’ why not?” he exclaimed, looking around at
his companions. “We got plenty o’ rope, an’ there’s
a tree yonder which’ll do nicely. We may as well do
what we come out to do, an’ rid th’ State of a varmint
as is no credit to it.”

A chorus of eager assent arose, and there was a gen-
eral surging forward. ‘The helpless outlaw turned
white, and a frightened look filled his face. Almost
imperceptibly Merry had turned his horse in front of
his captive.

“Come on, Bill, an’ help me tote him over,”’
the big puncher, Blucher, by name. :

“T think not,” Frank put in quietly, but in a tone
which could be heard to the farthest side of the circle.

Blucher stopped, and eyed him in astonishment.

“Yuh think not, do yuh?” he exclaimed, when he
had recovered his breath. ‘‘Well, you’re a cool one.

_ What’s to prevent us, I’d like to know?”
Merry toyed with his gun, and, as if by accident, al-
most cocked it.

Merriwell’s convine-

grinned

/

“This/’ he smiled significantly. “The man is not
‘going to be strung up, as you so kindly propose. ‘He's
going to be taken to Romero, where he will have a fair
trial, and probably get all that’s coming to him. I
“warn you, gentlemen, that I can shoot fairly well, and,
as you no doubt observe, there are six cartridges in
this gun. Ifvany of you desire to test the truth of
either observation, he is quite at liberty to do so.”

For a moment there was utter silence. Not a man

 

WEEKLY.

 

there, looking at Merriwell’s calm, impassive, but. in-
domitable face, but believed that he meant every word
of what he said. He was evidently determined to pro-
tect the cattle thief with his own life, if need be, and
none of them were particularly anxious to be the first

Po
|

ea NE i:

to make a move.
While they waited, hesitating and undecided, there 4
was a sudden pushing through them from behind, and £
the next moment Rowdy Meredith, Winchester in
hand, stood beside Frank’s horse.
“T’m with yuh, Mr. Merriwell,”’ he said tersely. “I

 

ain't goin’ to stand still an’ see
so long as I’ve got a gun in my hand and strength to
pull the trigger.”

Frank laughed. . qs
“IT don’t think you'll need to do that, Rowdy,” he {
“The fellows were a little excited at
I don’t much blame

any man strung up

said quickly.
the story I told them, that’s all.
them, fora more cowardly.thing I have seldom run
across. But I rather think, now that they’ve con-
sidered the matter, they'll be content to let the law .
take its course. How about it, boys?” ' ep

That laugh—genuine, hearty, and care-free—settled fe
it; that and the words which followed. Most of those “4 i
present admired a brave man, andallofthemknewone |.
when they saw him. ©

   
 

There was a general sigh of relief as the tension
snapped. ‘A’ few sheepish grins, and then Blucher
broke into a guffaw. |

 

 

   
  

f
t

“By thunder!” he exclaimed, ‘is rugged face ex-
panded in a broad grin.

   
  
  

“You're shore the nerviest gent that ever came dawn ;
the pike. Settin’ there an’ orderin’.the bunch around —
like yuh was callin’ out figgers at a dance. I'll be ©
hanged if I ain’t with yuh, pard, an’ if yuh want —
any help takin’ this coyote to town, I’m your man.” __

 
    
  

/

 

THE END.

  

“Frank Merriwell’s Guile; or, The Queen of the —
Matadors,” will appear in the next issue, No. 780, and
it is, certainly the real thing in the line of advenunae
and romance. There is a girl in it—an old friend |
of your favorite, Inza—and she is of the sort that
you will be glad to welcome to acquaintanceship. —
There’s a man in it, too, whom you never met before,
and he is just as well worth knowing as the girl. The |
story is atiother one of those fine Western tales,
abounding in the keen, fresh spirit of the great open
country, where men and women are taken at their
face value. Out next week—March 25th.

 
  
 

       
   
   
     

  

          
Renate eg ible ggtbin a

ep Bene Set.

 

4
or

— 4

AR dp Sc eRe ih eee aoe aE Ree on

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

 

 

Tito
S¥ Ag ideal fublication

 

 

 

 

 

Le the Aca Voth

 

 

 

NEW YORK, March 18, 1911.

 

 

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— ae —-

FAT WIVES.

The people in portions of Africa have many curious customs
and superstitions, and among the former may be mentioned the
fashion of having fat wives.

Being introduced to a great chief’s wife, Speke thus described
her: ; ;

“I was struck with the extraordinary dimensions of the fat,
fair one. She could not riseyand so large were her arms that
the flesh between the joints hung down. The chief, pointing to
his wife, said: j

“‘This is the product of our milk pots; from early youth up-

. ward we keep these pots to their mouths, as it is the fashion

at court to have very fat wives.’

“A sister-in-law of the king was a perfect wonder of hyper-
trophy. She was unable to stand except on all fours.

“I unblushingly requested permission to measure her. This is
the result: Round the arm, 23 inches; chest, 52 inches; thigh,

- 31 inches; calf, 20 inches; height, 5 feet 8 inches.

“All of these are exact except the height, and I believe I could

have obtained this more accurately if I could, have laid her on

the floor. Not knowing what difficulties I should have to contend
with in such a piece of engineering, I tried to get her height by
‘faising her up. * mel

_ “This, after infinite exertions on the part of us both, was

accomplished, when she sank down again fainting, for the blood

had rushed into her head. /
_ “Meartwhile the daughter had sat before us sucking at a milk
yt, on which the father kept her at work by holding the rod in

| his hand; for, as fattening is.the first duty of fashionable female

ife, it must be duly enforced by the rod if found necessary.”

| A HARD-WORKING PRINCE. }.
The Crown Prince.of Germany, who has started for a tour
round the world, has been brought up on Spartan lines. As is
well known, the kaiser is a strict disciplinarian, and till his four-
teenth year the crown prince rose at 4 a. m. winter and summer,
and was in bed at 8 p.m. He was kept hard at work by private

tutors, and after leaving home went through a course at a mili-

tary college, afterward matriculating at the University of Bonn.

ven when, a few years ago, he served a sort of diplomatic ap-
Prenticeship at the ministry of the interior he had to work as a
junior clefk, and kept to the usual hours every day for a whole
yéar. Even after these hours he was not free, for he had to take
home a case of documents to study every evening, and was kept

work late into the night. .

HUNTING A YO-HO.

By C. A. RAY.

It was quite late in the fall—November, I think—when queer
reports, particularly among the boys, began to be heard in our
little rustic neighborhood, of a curious animal that came down
from the “great woods,” after nightfall, and lurked about the
farmhouses. The “great woods” is the wild, unbroken wilderness
above us, which stretches back toward Canada; and in which are
“all manner of four-footed beasts,” so at least the boys think.
It is the home of bears, whence they occasionally sally forth into
the clearings below, picking up stray “mutton,” or holding noc-
turnal huskings among the soft corn in moonlit fields, skirted
and overhung by the dark forest. Mornings would show the
broken fragments of their banquet, and perhaps some huge
footprints to be stared at by the irritated farmer.

Packs of famishing wolves have sometimes issued from its
desert tracts, rabid from hunger, to gad by midnight in reckless
troops. And hunters told of catamounts that watched them
passing from the high treetops. In the great woods, then, as a
matter of course, this new beast had its retreat. And at a
husking, a few nights after, at old Deacon Sampson’s, we heard
no less than half a dozen different accounts concerning it. Big
Sam.Lufkin had been the first to see it.

_ Sam had recently “got grown up” into a great fellow, and was
just beginning to make calls Saturday nights. He was going
home from old Eastman’s—Abby’s father—about eleven o'clock,
he said—it might have been a little later, you know—and had got
down near the “meadow bridge.” A mist had risen from the
brook, making it dim as well as dark. All at once he saw, just
ahead of him in the road, a tall, pale-looking creature, standing
still, as if waiting. for him. The rest of his story wasn’t worth
much. But it came out by way of Abby, that Sam came running
back there a while after he had started home, frightened nearly
to death. She had to get up and let him in again, where, under
her protection, he remained till daylight. One thing injured
Sam’s account, there were no tracks to be seen in the road the
next morning at all representing the reported monster. Several
looked, but the road was guiltless of anything worse than horse
tracks. But, about a week after, little Jemmy Nutter, the
widow’s son, going over to mill one afternoon, had to wait for
the grist till dusk. It had begun to snow, and-grew very dark
as he was coming home. He said that when he got out where
Shorey’s logging road comes down into the main road—Shorey
gets down ship timber from the great woods in winter—a great
animal came trotting down from the forest, and, seeing him,
gave chase. Jemmy was on horseback, with the bag of meal
under him, and digging his bare heels into the horse’s sides, rode
for dear life. It was only about half a mile farther on to their
house; but he had a pretty snug run. The creature was at his
horse’s heels, when he turned into their yard. There it stopped,

“uttered a long, shrill cry, then epesey. about and bounded away
with heavy leaps into the darkness. N

ow, Jemmy was a plucky
little fellow, and not one of the scared kind. His account made
quite a sensation—much more than Sam’s. Even old Mr. Shaw,
who was always ridiculing the boys, was obliged to admit that
there must be something—a big dog, perhaps. Jemmy was not
a boy to run from his shadow. j .

“Dog!” cried Jemmy, with indignant heat, overhearing the
word. “D’ye think I’d run for a dog? I tell you ‘twas as big
as the old horse, and you can believe it or not!”

‘Upon this, Mr. Greyson, a quiet, steady-going man, who lived
a little 6ut of the neighborhood, said, that as so many had seen
something, he would tell what he had seen. ‘A few nights be-
fore he had gone out to the barn. with his lahtern to feed his
cattle. The little barn window in the farther end was open; and
as he was shaking in the fodder, he thought he heard a snort
out there, and, looking around, saw some bright spots, like eyes,
staring in at the opening. Setting down the lantern, lie slipped
out of the barn and ran to the house for his gun. But before
he got back the eyes had disappeared; though he had a glimpse
of a large, grayish creature, crossing the fields toward the woods.
It looked, as Jemmy had said, as large as a horse. “Mr. Clives,” -
continued he, “you was a hunter in your younger days, and have
had’ considerable experience in the woods, what should you call
it? You’ve heard our stories.”

“Never saw anything like it,” said Clives. “Don’t know what
to tell you. But when I was up in the Moosehead Lake region
the lumbermen were telling one winter of a strange animal that
kept hanging about their camp. From the stories they told it —
thust have been something like this. They called it a Yo-ho.”
That was enough for us. After that we had a name for it.

~

 
 

  
   
    
    
   
  
 
  
  
   
  
   
   
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
 

- suppose it was a man, do you? It sounded so piteous!”

_and saw the lifeless body of a gray colt.

28 TIP Tor

There was a “Yo-ho” in the vicinity! This was Tuesday night;
and the following Thursday was Thanksgiving. We were to
have a “shooting match.” Johnny Betley was getting it up for
us; and all the boys were going. Johnny wasn’t a boy himself,
howev er, but a spicy old chap who was always ready to help on
a good time.. We used to take a great deal of fun out of him.
Well, Wednesday afternoon Betley went down to the village,
some six miles below, after “the fixings.” Now report had often
said that Johnny used to take a swallow too much occasionally.
But be that as it may, this much is pretty certain, that, at about
ten o’clock that evening, he might have been seen riding up home
much in the condition of “Tam O’Shanter.” And it so fell out
that he got chased in a somewhat similar manner, not by a witch
exactly, but a Yo-ho. He was coming up, he said—he did not
know just how far up—when, as he turned about on the wagon
seat, to see that the old stone jug had not fallen out, he saw the
terrible beast walking along only a few feet behind him, snuffing
the air as if he smelled something. Johnny was still sober
enough to give his old horse a string of cuts, which took him
along at a great rate. But not having the reins under great
control, his old thoroughbrace wagon tacked alternately from
the logs and stumps on one side of the road to the stones on the
other, including both ditches. And, coming presently to a turn,
he tacked in the wrong direction, and went ashore completely
into the old log fence, with a disastrous crash! What with the
shock, fright, etc., Johnny immediately swooned; his latest recol-
lection being a vision of the monster, standing within a few
yards of him, still snuffing. When consciousness returned he
found himself very much in the fix of “Artemus the Delicious”
when he offered a bystander ten dollars “to tell him who he was
and where he came from.” But either from having less money,
or being a more practical (man) than Artemus, Johnny at once
began feeling about, and drawing conclusions from things as he
found them. It was still very dark. The horse with the wagon,
minus the driver, seat, and cargo, had gone on. His hand fell
upon logs, apparently covered with sand—a four-pound paper of
granulated sugar had burst. There were bugs, too!—the raisins
for the pudding were all about him. Finally, there came to hand
the nozzle, handle, and upper portion of the old jug. Its familiar
feel recalled the whole situation. Habit is strong. Up went
the bottomless nozzle to his lips—suck—suck—and then the full
extent of the disaster burst upon him. Midnight saw him grop-
ing his way homeward, whither his horse had preceded him by
some hours. But strangely enough he never once thought of the
Yo-ho again, the cause of his mishap, till the next day. This
event, with the destruction of “the fixings,” upset the shooting
match. Public indignation was loud against the Yo-ho; and to
prevent the recurrence of such a misfortune it was agreed to
turn out and hunt him down. There were twelve of us; and we
decided to divide into three parties—four together—and go_ out
that very night. One party was to go down near the scene of
Johnny’s mishap.
son’s; while the third, to which I had been assigned, was advised
to lie in wait at the entrance of Shorey’s logging road—the
locality of Jemmy’s ride. Both Jemmy and Sam Lufkin were of
our party; the other, besides cruel being my brother Tom.

 

- We went to our appointed places at dusk, and secreted ourselves,

with loaded guns, in an alder clump, at the junction of the two
‘roads. An hour passed; but all remained quiet. It was getting
pretty cold. Muffled up in our great coats, we lay with our guns
cocked and pointed. Another hour passed ; I was getting thor-
oughly chilled and sick of the business, when we suddenly caught
the sound of a distant tramping. It came nearer. “He’s coming,’
whispered Jemmy. Breathlessly we waited, and soon saw a great,
dusky form emerging from the gloom. We all fired—nearly at
once—and with the reports came a wild, almost human, cry. I
heard big Sam scrambling out on the other side; a panic is con-
tagious; Tom and I followed him. Jemmy stood for.a moment,
and then came running after us. We had not intended to run—
penny wouldn’t probably—but that strange cfy appalled. us.

own the road we went, never stopping till we came to Mrs,
Nutter’s. There we halted, and seeing we were not pursued,
began to recover our courage.

“What a dreadful scream!” exclaimed Jemmy. “You don’t

“Oh, ’m»afraid it was,” cried Sam. “Let’s go back.”
Just then we heard the party coming up the road; they had

heard the guns, and were coming to see what had been done.
Jemmy brought out his lantern; and all together we went back,
almost to see the result of our shots in the “dark. Holding up —

the lantern, we peered among the tall, dry mullens and fireweeds,
It was all plain as day
ap; Its singular aeRO in short, everything was Panta

   

The second was to watch out near Mr. Grey- —

   

WEEKLY.

gecoutited for, It had strayed from its pasture in an adjoining f
town, into the “great woods,” become lost and wild, and finally B
had been mistaken for a Yo-ho.

THE BOY SUBSTITUTE. oe
By T. E. BURR.

“Squire Madison has been drafted, Hugh,” said Mrs.’ Ellis, ee
coming into her humble home, with a little excitement in her ’
manner. “There is a piece of news’ for you!” 1

“I have a piece of news for you, mother,” said Hugh soberly, » pee Sy

“What is it, Hugh?” r

“The factory i is closed, and I am thrown out of employment.” abe

Mrs. Ellis turned pale, for Hugh, the seventeen-year-old son,
was the main support of herself and his younger brother and
sister.

“For how long?” she asked faintly.

“I don’t know. The war has broken up the business, and some’
say it will not reopen for a year.’

“That is, indeed, bad news,” said Mrs. Ellis, in a troubled — eo
voice. tpt ae

“We were getting along so comfortably,” said Hugh, “with
my wages.” ;

“My poor boy! you have had us all to carry on your shoul-
ers.

“And it made me happy to do it, mother,” said Hugh earnestly.
“I like to work, but now my work is taken away. from me.’

“There will be some opening for you, my son,’ said Mrs. Ellis,
recovering her cheerfulness with an effort. “God will not let us
starve.” Rea
“It may be so, mother, but the prospect isn’t very bright.” 4g oe
“Is Squire Madison going to the war?” asked Henry, a twelve- aed
year-old boy, Hugh’s younger brother.

“No; he cannot leave his property. He will no doubt hire a
substitute.”

Hugh looked up suddenly, and his eye brightened, as his
mother added: ;

“No doubt he will pay liberally for one.’ i

“Perhaps that is the way that was to be ier to ries” he said é
to himself, but he did not mention the plan that had come into ~
his head, ‘for he feared his mother would object. ie

Hugh was a tall, manly-looking boy, who appeared older. than —
his years. His heart had been fired by the patriotic appeals —
which had been made from the pulpit and the rostrum, and he had
secretly longed to enter the service as a soldier. Two things
had prevented thus far: He knew that he was tinder age, and
knew also that his mother and younger brother and sister eine
dependent upon him for support. His duty seemed to lie at
home. Now, however, all was changed. He had lost his em-_
ployment, and. the military service seemed to open to him a
chance of fresh earnings. os

“T will go round after supper ‘aa see ‘Squire Madison,” he —
silently resolved, and straightway his brow! cleared and he be-
came more cheerful.

“IT am glad to see you, Hugh," said Squire Madison Gortidelte,

“Are you all well at home?’ > ra

“Yes, sir.’ iat

“Are you getting on comfortably?” asked the kind- ‘hearted
squire.

“We have been, sir, but now the factory has shut down, and!
I am thrown out of employment. oe

“That is bad. I am sorry to hear it.
I can find some employment for you.’

“That is what I have come to see you about, Squire Madison,"
said Hugh, coming to the point. —

ils there anything in particular you have thought of, “Hugh?”

es, sir.’ . er
hat is it?”
“] hear you have been drafted, Sctie Madison.”

“Yes, that is true.”

“But. you don’t mean to go?”

“T can’t well leave my: large business interests.
be more useful at home.”

“Do you mean to hire a substitute ?” asked Piss epee

“Yes, I suppose I shall.”

“Will you accept me?” .

"Vou !” exclaimed the squire, in surprise.

“Seventeen.”

“You are only a boy.

“But I look older than ck am, and I am strong and well.”

“What is your object in making this request, Hugh?”

“T have two, sir. I should like. to fight for my country. |

o-oo

 

 

 

        
     
     
     
     
     

 

       
     
   
       
     
     
     
     
       
     
     
       
       
   
           
   
     
       
   
   
   
   
   
       
       
   
   
    

I must consider whether

 
 
 

        
         
   
         
     

I think I a

  

    
   
     
       
     
 

“How old abey you?”
! ete

   

~

 
     
 
 

  

7 hav

    
 

Eee Mee

several friends who are already in the service. Besides, sir, with
the money you give me, and my pay, I can make mother com-

fortable, and that is more than I can do by staying at home with- .

out employment.”

“You are an excellent son, Hugh,” said Squire Madison
warmly, “but I don’t like to have you risk your life for me.”

“It isn’t for you, sir, but for my country and my mother.”

“But if anything should happen to you I should feel that
were in a manner responsible for your death.”

“God will take care of me, sir.”

“T think He will, Hugh. Tell me, does your mother know of
your plan?”

“No, sir, not yet.”

“Tt will be a sad blow to her.” :

“IT will undertake to reconcile her to that if you will give me
the chance.”

“Then, Hugh, I will tell you what I will do. In place of giv-

ing you a sum of money outright I will agree to pay your mother

forty dollars a month during the period of your absence.”

“That is much more than I expected. You could hire a sub-
stitute for much less.”

“That is quite true; but I want to help you in your noble
purpose.” i

“Thank you, sir,” said Hugh, his face radiant. “I shall go
cheerfully, knowing that those I love are made comfortable.”

“One thing more,” added the squire. “If anything happens to
you, and I pray that God will spare you from wounds and death,
you may rest assured that your mother will continue to find a
friend in me.” ;

Again Hugh thanked the squire warmly, and left the house

@ - with an elastic step and a heart full of hope and confidence.

Hugh found it hard to reconcile his mother to the step he was
about to take. "
—. “You will risk your life for our comfort,” she said sorrow-
_. fully. “I cannot accept the sacrifice.”
_ Mother, that’s not all. My country calls me, and I obey the
a
“She does not call boys.”
“JT am no longer a boy, since God has placed upon me the
responsibilities of a man.”
“1 fear*I shall never see you again if I let you go.”
“Don’t be downhearted, mother. The great majority of the
_ soldiers will come back, and I feel that I shall be in the lucky
- number.”
Mrs. Ellis was cheered in spite of herself by the confident
words of her son, and finally yielded her consent.

Hugh presented himself for acceptance as a substitute, and in
spite of his youth, his well-knit muscular form carried the day.
After a brief delay, he marched with his regiment, and great
loneliness came upon the little cottage which he had called home.

But he wrote, often and regularly, letters in which he made —

light of privations and toils, and his mother was comforted in a
measure. All care and anxiety as to ways and means were re-

moved, for punctually on the first day of every month Squire

Madison called and left forty dollars, never failing to make
‘kindly inquiries after his young substitute. Besides, Hugh sent
home the greater part of his monthly pay. This money, and a
part of her income from the squire, Mrs. Ellis, who was an
~ economical woman and a good manager, deposited in a savings
bank. ”
“When Hugh comes home,” she said to herself, “he mtst take
a good, long rest, and with the money that I save for him he will
feel able to do it.” :

_A year later the papers contained an account. of a great battle,

in which a young soldier, named Hugh Ellis, had specially dis-
tinguished himself. In recognition of his gallantry he had been
‘promoted to the post of first lieutenant, with, of course, a cor+
 Yesponding increase of pay.
“Mrs, Ellis,” said the squire, on his next call, “I am proud of
“my young substitute. He is doing great credit to all of us, as
well as himself. It is hard to think of a boy of eighteen as first
lieutenant, isn’t it, now?” . ahve

. “Hughewas always true and faithful in whatever he under-
took,” said the mother proudly. “If he only comes home safe I
shall be the happiest woman in the world.” —
“He will come home, never fear,” said the squire cheerfully.
But nothing is so uncertain as the life of a soldier at the front.
de carries his life in his hand, and is liable at any time to lose

A dark day came for Mrs. Ellis, when in the daily paper,
hich, despite her economy, she regularly took, she read the
account of the battle of Antietam. In the list of “missing, and
probably dead,” occurred the name of Lieutenant Hugh Ellis, of
» Seventh Wisconsin Regiment. .

 Boéuss

 

WEEKLY.

The paper fell from her nerveless hands, and she sank-into a
swoon, from which she recovered only to suffer such anguish as a
mother can feel for the loss of her first-born, her staff, and her
support.

“Don’t be too sure that Hugh is dead,” said Squire Madison.
“He may be a prisoner, or sick in some hospital.”

She shook her head despondently.

“I shall never see him again on earth,” she said sadly.

Squire Madison continued to pay the monthly stipend he had
agreed upon.

“At least,” he said, “the poor mother shall not have anxiety
about the means of support while I can prevent it,”

So time passed, and nothing was heard of Hugh. Mrs. Ellis
had recovered from the first blow so far as to feel that it was
her duty to live for her younger children, but her face wore an
expression of deep sadness. A day came that tested her for-
titude to the utmost.

It was Hugh’s birthday.

The poor woman, with pale face and saddened mien, was
sitting at the table mending. some garments belonging to one of
her younger children, when there was a knock at the door, and
on its being opened Squire Madison entered. There was a partly
suppressed excitement in his manner, which Mrs. Ellis did not
notice.

an is poor Hugh’s birthday, Squire Madison,” she said
sadly.

“Indeed! That is very remarkable,” said the squire.

“Remarkable !’’ repeated Mrs. Ellis, with mild wonder.

“Yes—that I should call on this day of all others,” he answered,
with brief hesitation.

“Poor Hugh!” sighed the widow.

“You know, my- dear madam, I have never given him up,” said
the squire. “We have no certainty of his death.”

“And I have no hope of his being alive. If he were I should
never cease to thank God.” :

“Well,” said the squire briskly, “if I were a betting man I
would wager something that you would see him again alive.”

“What do you mean, Squire Madison?” exclaimed the mother,
startled.

He stepped to the front door, and called:

“Hugh !”

Directly there stepped in the boy subsfitute, a little pale, con-
siderably older looking than when he left home eighteen months
before, but-in the full enjoyment of life.

“T wasn’t dead, after all, mother,” he said, srniling.

When the first joy had subsided a little, Hugh told his story.
He lay on the battlefield among the dead, when a kindly Con-
federate officer, detecting signs of life, gave him a cup of water,
and had him removed to the hospital.. He was long in recovering,
but at length his strong constitution carried him through, and he
was exchanged.

“You won't go back, Hugh,” pleaded his mother.

“No, mother; I have done my part. Now I will stay at home
and take care of you.”

Squire Madison exerted himself to procure a position for his
young substitute, and succeeded. Hugh became in time a pros-_
perous man, and his mother still lives, happy in a son of whom
she has reason to feel proud.

BOUSSARD, THE PILOT OF DIEPPE,

On the night of the 31st of August, 1777, in a most tremendous
storm, a vessel attempted to run into the harbor of Dieppe. —

ard, the pilot, who was missing when the tempest raged,
was on the pier; and seeing that the captain of the ship made

‘several false maneuvers,-he called to him with his speaking

trumpet, directing him what to do, and strove by gestures
to render himself intelligible. Owing to the storm and
the darkness his efforts proved unavailing, and the ship struck
about thirty, fathoms above the pier. Everybody, except Bous-—
sard, gave up the crew for lost. Determined to save them, he

was going to tie a rope round his body in order to carry it to the

ship; but his wife and children and his friends surrounded and _
besought him, by all that was sacred, not to rush uselessly into

certain destruction, Boussard listened only to the voice of hu-

manity, reproached his friends with their cowardice, and at length
prevailed upon them to take home his wife and children. Having
tied one end of the rope round him, and fastened the other to the
pier, he plunged into the sea. Twenty times did the waves hurl
him back upon the beach, and as often did he plunge again into
the raging billows. A fresh wave flung him toward the ship, an
he disappeared beneath her. A general cry of horror proclaimed

his destruction. But he had only dived to lay hold of a sailor

 
 
       
         
     
       
   
      
      
      
      
     
         
         
           
     
       
       
       
       
       
 
        
       
     
       
         
       
         
     
   
     
   
         
     
   
     
       
     
         
       
       
      
        
       
 

vide the airships: and induce the enemy to go up in them.”

whom the sea had swept from the deck, and whom he contrived
to take, senseless, on shore. A last attempt to reach the ship
proved ‘successful ; he climbed her side, and conveyed to the crew
the rope by which they were drawn ashore one after another.

3ut Boussard had not finished his glorious work. Exhausted
with his exertions, he was conducted by his friends to the nearest
house. A gust of wind wafted to the shore the cry of a passenger
who had been left behind, and Boussard soon learned that there
was another fellow creature to save; he felt his strength re-
newed; and before those about him were aware he had rushed
out of the house, plunged again into the sea, and was battling
with the samé difficulties which he had before encountered, and
which he overcame with the like success. The passenger was
saved. Eight out of ten passengers owed their lives to his
courageous exertions. Louis XVI. made him a present of a
thousand francs, and settled on him a pension of three hundred.
He was appointed keeper of the pier lighthouse—an office which
has ever since been held by the Boussards, descending from father
to son; and not a year has passed unmarked by deeds worthy of
the first possessor. Close to the parapet of the pier at Dieppe is
a pole, covered with copper, to which is fastened a chain; here, in
every storm since 1777, whether in the night or day, a Boussard
has taken his station, clinging to the chain, and serving as a
warning voice to those whom danger and the tempestuous sea
pursue into the harbor; and though the waves broke over him,
though they wash him from the post of honor, rising from their
bosom, he would again give advice with his speaking trumpet, in
defiance of the sea and all its efforts. Fifty times has a Boussard
risked his life to save the lives of others.

Napoleon ordered a house to be built for the Boussards close
to the. spot where the first performed his heroic achievement.
For more than a half century, whenever there has been a vessel
or a fellow creature to save, the people have asked: “Have

 

» we no Boussard here?”

HE WAS ACCOMMODATED.

He was a dudish little man, but he had a loud voice, and evi-
dently wanted every one to know what he said. He and a com-
panion, who, be it said to his credit, seemed ashamed of the
company he was in, stood in the hotel rotunda. The little fellow
was talking about Ireland, and he said many hard things about
the country and the people. A great big man stood near by lis-
tening to the little fellow’s vaporings.
the little fellow said, in a very loud tone:

“Show me an Irishman, and I'll show you a coward.”

Then the big fellow slipped up and, touching the little fellow
on the shoulder, said in a heavy bass voice: °

“What’s that you said?”

“I said show me an Irishman, and ‘I'll show you a coward,”
said the little fellow, whose knees were shaking under him.

“Well, I’m an Irishman,” said the big fellow.

“You are an Irishman? Well,” and a smile of joy flitted over
the little fellow’s countenance, as he saw a hole through which
he could crawl, “I’m a coward.”

MAKES HIM LOOK DIFFERENT.

Mistress (finding visitor in the kitchen} —“Who is this, Mary?”

Mary (confused)—“My brother, ma’am.”

.Mistress (suspiciously)—‘You’re not much alike.”

Mary (stammering apologetically)—“We were, ma’am, but
he’s just had his beard shaved off, and that makes him’ ook
different, ma’am.’ 4

-JUTH FANTHY THAT.

2 lovers sat beneath the shade,

And tunz2 the other said:

“How 148 that you be 9

Have smiled upon this suit df mine.

“If 5 a heart if beats 4 you—
Thy voice is mu6 melody;

’Tis 7 to be thy loved f, 2.

Say, O nymph, wilt marry me?”
Then lisped she soft: “Why, 13ly.”

AIRSHIPS IN WARFARE, :

“Do you think airships could be used effectively in leastatk i
“They might,” replied the skeptical person, “if we could pro-

     
 

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

He merely smiled until ”

» believe the fair sex is entitled to the same consideration, so I ask

 

APPLAUS

SY

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 comradeship,
praise and friendly criticism—and while we have not sufficient space
for their immediate publication, they are all welcomed, in turn, to
their place by the fireside.

    

Advises Friends to Read “Tip Top.’

I buy Tip Top almost every week. I advise all the boys to
read it, and tell them they ‘are missing the Tip Top and Medal
Libraries. I think Dick and Frank fine models. I have got my
brother to read Tip Top, and he did not read at all before. Your
enthusiastic WALTER WRIGHT.

Atlantic City, N. J.

Best in the World.

This is the first letter to the king of weeklies, and I hope it
will escape the fire. Tip Top is the best weekly in the world.
The stories of Frank’s ranch are the best. Of all the gharacters
I like Frank, Inza, Dick, and June best. I hope Dick’gets June
for a wife. Let us hear some more about Jack Ready; Bruce
Browning, and Little Felicia. I remain an enthusiastic Trp-
TOPPER, RaymMonp NorswortTHy.

Gothenburg, Neb.

>

A Tobacco Fighter.

’

I just finished reading No. 762, which, to my mind, is the
master stroke of our dear author. As I read this story of our
dear friend Dick, I thought of the experiences of Frank. I fol-
lowed him as a railroad man, then through his remarkable career
as actor, author, playwright; his wonderful mining experiences,
and his crowning success in his great school at Bloomfield. Ah,
those happy hours! I can join with Brother Thomas E. Webb,
whose applause in No. 762 recalls the many letters from the ad-
mirers of Frank, Bart, Inza, Elsie, and their friends. I agree
with Brother Webb that the members of “the Old Guard” oc-
casionally give us a word of cheer; and I believe Burt L. should
arrange for a grand reunion in the near future. I believe that
each one who has been helped by Tre Top should help others.
When I began reading Tip Tor I was a tobacco user. Now I
am a tobacco fighter, ‘becapise it stunts the growth, physical and
mental. It is a waste of money, and is a filthy habit that is
offensive to many people. While in the Allegheny Mountains
wens years ago, I saw some of the.women take a pinch of

1uff between their thumbs and fingers, roll it under their upper
lips, and walk along spitting like a man who chews tobacco. The
sight was. very offensive to me, and I am sure that not many
Tip Top readers would want to be seen walking along the street
with a snuff chewer or a girl or’ woman smoking cigarettes. I

the girls and women wherever I go to refuse to gp with the
cigarette users. For nearly two years I have been one of the
field workers of the Anti-Cigarette League, and hope every loyal
Tip-Toprer, man, woman, or child, will join with us in wiping.
these “little white devils” from our fair land. Let each one who
is studying the life of Frank and Dick do all in his power. to —
introduce*others to our favorite author. The motto of the Anti-
Cigarette League is “Save the Boy.” Let us each bear this in
mind, May 1911 be the greatest year for Tie Tor, and each
person who has a part in placing the “king of weeklies” in our.
hands, JAmes J. JEFFREYS.
Elkhart, Ind. ‘

   
 

pomp te nner ALA BS a

 

a

ks with your chum
fay Bacon

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 8 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.

   
  
 

 

ee
Senet

 

 

Bookkeeping, or Mechanics?

Pror. FourmEN: As I am a reader of Tip Top, I take the
liberty of asking you a few questions. I am a student in the
high school here, and am taking a commercial course, preparatory

i} to going to a higher institution, to become a bookkeeper and
3 if stenographer. I was speaking to a master mechanic the other
i} day, and he said he could give me an apprenticeship in the ma-
chinist trade when I graduated, if I wished to accept it. Which
i would you advise me to do: become a bookkeeper and stenog-
_ tapher, or a machinist? Will you kindly tell me what became of
1} ~~ the Bound to Win Library of Street ’& Smith books, and where
l) I could find them?. Are the Merriwell stories still published in
- the Medal Library? Thanking you, I close with three cheers
for Street & Smith, their publications, and Prof. Fourmen.
_'. Escanaba, Mich. Georce H. Dumas.

 

 

 

 

A young man’s future should be determined by his taste and
ambition, Success in any line of work is a matter not only of
tireless industry, but of genuine enthusiasm and interest. If you
are really interested in mechanics, and feel that you would love
the machinist’s trade, go into it. without hesitation. Otherwise,
_ shun it as you would a plague. Bookkeeping and stenography
are only worthy of great ambition as stepping-stones to larger
things. A bookkeeper or stenographer is a man of humble posi-
_tion, but ifhe has energy and force he may become a business
‘man of importance. If your taste inclines to commercial life,
go into it with a will and use your bookkeeping and stenography
as an introduction to the business world. ~The Bound to Win
Library is out of print. The Merriwell stories are still published
_ regularly in the Medal Library.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

  

 
 

  

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cocoa.

- Pror, Fourmen: As I have been a reader of Tie Top for
some time, I thought I would ask you some questions. My
measurements are: Age, 15 years; chest, 30/4 inches; waist, 26
inches; neck, 13 inches; thigh, 18 inches; calves, 11 inches;
weight, 106 pounds. Would I make a long-distance runner? Is
cocoa harmful? C.'S.. Wooparp,

-Columbus, Kansas.

 

  
  

 

 

 

 

 

  

  

   

  

  

i when sending measurements. No estimate of development can
‘made without first knowing the height, Your measurements
would be fairly good for a man of about 5 feet. If you are
aller than that, you will need a good deal of preparation to be-
come a runner. Running, should never be attempted until the
lungs and muscles have been fully prepared for the violent strain
by careful training with dumb-bells, chest weights, etc., and by
r ular breathing exercises. A little easy running for short
distances is not harmful, and will improve the wind. Cocoa is a
~ very valuable food article, indeed, and it has little or none of the

injurious properties of tea and coffee. It is, however, hard. to
“digest in some cases, and in such cases it should be taken spar-
ingly. Also it is fattening, being very rich in fats. A cup of
ocoa for breakfast is beneficial to almost any one in normal

  

 

  

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

  

   
    
    

 

 

 

 

TIP FOP “WEEKLY:

It is very odd that so many readers neglect to give their height -

PIE cebimants “re -> Tes. weet

3

with meals there is nothing
equal to pure milk; and water should be taken very freely between
meals.

health, but as a regular beverage

Too Much Exercise.

ProF; FourMEN: I have been a reader of Tip Top for about
five years, and think it is the best weekly published. I would
like to know if I would make an athlete? I have lived on a farm
and done farm work all my life, but I play ball, skate, swim, run,
aud jump. My age is 19 years, and I weigh 170 pounds. Measure-
14% inches ; thighs, 23 inches; calf, 14% inches. Are my measure-
ments: Height, 6 feet; waist, 30 inches; chest, 33 inches; neck,
ments correct? Myron W. Homes.

Concord, N. H.

No; your measurements are far from correct. You should
weigh, normally, about twenty pounds more; your waist, if the
abdominal muscles are properly developed, should measure at
least 35 inches; your chest is under the normal standard by 10
inches; and your neck should be 3 inches larger. It is possible
that, with your farm work, you have overexerted yourself with
too much swimming, running, and jumping. Too much strenuous
exercise is worse than none at all. Gentle exercise, with light
dumb-bells; Indian clubs, and chest weights, is the best developer.
When the muscles are exercised within their capacity, and not
overtaxed, they respond quickly to the stimulation and make a
rapid grewth. You can certainly become an athlete if you have
the necessary ambition and energy. But you must prepare for it
by gaining more breath capacity. Use the dumb-bells and chest
weights, and take daily breathing exercises.

Not Ready for Running.

Pror, FourmeN: As I am a constant reader of Tip Top, I
would like the privilege of asking you a few questions. My
measurements are: Height, 6 feet; chest, 34 inches; waist, 28
inches; calf, 15 inches; thigh, 22 inches; neck, 14 inches; age, 15
years 10 months; weight, 132 pounds. Please tell me the de-
ficiencies in my measurements, and how to remedy them. | have
never had any athletic training, or used any kind of training
apparatus, but have always been in for all athletic games such as
baseball, basket ball, hockey, running, etc., and have always made
good. How could I get a little better wind? Ihave done a mile
in 5 minutes flat, but was pretty well done up at the finish. [I
can never do more than 5 or 6 miles in the cross-country before
I am ready to drop. Victor Fay.

Cairo, N. Y.

You are at present quite unfitted for running or any other
violent exercise. Your chest is too small by 12 inches—no wonder
you are exhausted after running. Your waist should be 6 inches
larger, and your neck and calf at least 3 inches; and you should
weigh at least 50 pounds more. You have probably made the
common mistake of overexercising, instead of developing your-
self gradually with gentle exercise. Never fatigue yourself, but
work regularly with dumb-bells and chest weights, and take sys-
tematic breathing exercises. The dumb-bells and weights should
be light, and the exercise should stimulate and tone the muscles
instead of straining them. If you try to run before your muscles
and lungs are prepared for such exercise, you will strain your
heart and be “out of it” for good.

Not a Bantam.

Pror. FourMEN: Having been a reader of Tip Top for some:
time, I take the liberty of asking a few questions.. I am 16 years
old, and as large as the largest at 20; weight, 200 pounds ;
height, 6 feet 1% inches; waist, 36 inches; calf, 16 inches, I
punch the bag and box. Am I built for a boxer? What weight
clubs and dumb-bells should I use? H, F. Mason.

Brazil, Ind.

You are certainly built for a boxer, or almost anything else
in the athletic line, and “the other fellow” won't have much to
say about it. You should use a fairly heavy dumb-bell and Indian —
club, but not heavy enough to tire your muscles, the idea being to _
let such exercise be gentle and stimulating, rather than fatiguing. x

~

 
     

 
 
 

 

  

 

 

le aE at Se ae

  

rae gaat eae chomp ote

 

Pe POOR YS rene. gm net mtr wer

ALL,OF THE BACK NUMBERS OF

TIP TOP WEEKLY

THAT CAN NOW BE SUPPLIED !

  

   
  

 

 

 

 

 

  
    
 
  
  
  
    
  
   
  
  
  
  
    
  
   
   
  
    
  
  
    
  
   
 
  
   
 
    
  
   
   
     
  
    

241—-Frank Merriwell’s Kick.
/ 243—F Lal Merriwell’s “Brassie”

246—Frank Merriwel’s Master vs
; 4 247—Frang Merriwell’s Dilemma.
F 249—Frank Merriwell’s Search.

4} -250—Frank Merriwell’s Ring.
251—Frank Merriwell’s Party.
253—Frank Merriwell’s Skill.
254—F rank Merriwell’s Club.
255—F rank Merriwell’s Scheme.
469—Frank Merriwell’s Retaliation.
485—Dick Merriwell 1n Manila.
486—Dick Merriwell Marooned.
488—Dick Merriwell, Gap-Stopper.
489—Dick Merriwell’s Sacrifice Hit 5

; 490—Dick Merriwell’s Support.

Pa Fat 491—-Dick Merriwell’s Stroke.

Bee 492—Dick Merriwell Shadowed.

; \ 493—Dick Merriwell’s Drive.
494—Dick Merriwell’s Return.
495—Dick Merriwell’s Restoration. !
496—Dick Merriwell’s Value.
497—Dick Merriwell’s ‘‘Dukes.”’
498—Dick Merriwell’s Drop Kick.
499—Dick Merriwell’s Defeat.

{ 500—Dick Merriwell’s Chance.

Fa} 501—Dick Merriwell’s Stride.
502—Dick Merriwell’s Wing-Suit.
503—Dick Merriwell’s Skates.
504—Dick Merriwell’s Four Fists.
505—Dick Merriwell’s Dashing Game
506—F rank Merriwell’s Tigers.
507—Frank Merriwell’s Treasure
Guard.
508—F rank Merriwell’s Flying Fear 5
509—Dick Merriwell in Maine.
510—Dick Merrtwell’s Polo Team.
—Dick Merriwell in the Ring.

/frank Merriwell's New Idea.
513—Frank Merriwell’s Trouble.
514—Frank Merriwell’s Pupils.
515—Dick Merriwell’s Satisfaction
516—Dick Merriwell’s Discernment.

517—Dick Merriwell’s Friendly Hand 5
518—Frank Pas New Boy.
519—Frank Merriwell’s Mode.

*§20—F rank Merriwell’s Aids,
521—Dick Merriwell’s Visit.
5§22—Dick Merriwell’s Retaliation.
§23—Dick Merriwell’s Rival.

' 569—Dick Merriwell’s Silent Work.

556—Dick Merriwell’s ‘‘Push.”’ 638—Frank Merriwell’s Steadying
557—Dick Merriwell’s Running. ; , Hand.
558—Dick Merriwell’s Joke. 639—Frank Merriwell’s Record-

Breakers.
640—Dick Merriwell’s Shoulder.
641—Dick Merriwell’s Desperate

559—Dick Merriwell’s Seven.
560—Dick Merriwell’s Partner.
561—Dick Merriwell in the Tank,

562—Frank Merriwell’s Captive. Work.

563—Frank Merriwell’s Trailing. 642—Dick Merriwell’s Example.
564—Frank Merriwell’s Talisman? 648—Dick Merriwell At. Gale’s
565—Frank Merriwell’s Horse. Ferry.

566—F rank Merriwell’s Intrusion. 644—Dick Merriwell’s Insptratton.
567—Frank Merriwell’s Bluff. 645—Dick Merriwell’s Shooting.

568—Dick Merriwell’s Regret. . 646—Dick Merriwell in the Wilds.
548—Frank Merriwell’s Ranch.
649—Fr
650—Frank Merriwell’s Brand.
651—F rank Merriwell’s Red Guide
652—Dick Merriwell’s Rival.
—Dick Merriwe ll’s Twirling. 658—Dick Merriwell’s Strength.
—Dick Merriwell’s Party. 654—Dick Merriwell’s Secret Work
655—Dick Merriwel:'s Way

570—Dick Merriwell's Arm.
571—Dick Merriwell’s Skill.
572—Dick Merriwell’s Magnetism.
573—Dick Merriwell's System.
cae eas k Merriwell’s Salvation.

»”

76

7

ae Crore

7 —Dick Merriwell’s Backers.
O78 —Dic k Merriwell’s Coach.
579—Dick Merriwell’s Bingle.
580—Dick Merriwell’s Hurdling.

657—Frank Merriwell’s Rope.
658—F rank Merriwell’s Lesson.
581—Dic k Merriwell's Best Work. 659—Frank Merriwell’s Protection
582—Dick Merriwell's Respite. 660—Dick Merriwell’s Reputation.
588—Dick Merriwell’s Disadvantage 661—Dick Merriwell’s Motto.
§84—Dick Merriwell Beset. 662—Dick Merriwell’s Restraint.
585—Dick Merriwell’s Great Rival. 663—Dick Merriwell’s Ginger.
586—Dick Merriwell’s Distrust. 664——Dick Merriwell’s Driving. >
587—Dick Merriwell, Lion-Tamer. 665—Dick Merriwell’s Good Cheer.
588—Dick Merriwell’s Camp-site. 666—Frank Merriwell’s Theory.
589—Dick Merriwell’s Debt. 667—Frank Merriwell’s Diplomacy.
590—Dick Merriwell’s Camp-Mates 668—Frank Merriwell’s Encour-
191—Dick Merriwell’s Draw. agement.
592—Dick Merriwell’s Disapproval. 669—Frank Merriwell’s Great Work
593—Dick Merriwell’s Mastery. 670—Dick Merriwell’s Mind.
594—Dic k Merriwell’s Warm Work 671—Dick Merriwell’s oe
59% 5—Dick Merriwell’s “Double 672—Dick Merriwell’s Rally
Squeeze.” 673—Dick Merriwell’s Flier.
596—Dick Merriwell’s Vanishing. 674—Frank Merriwell’s Bullets.
597—Dick Merriwell Adrift. 675—Frank Merriwell Cut Off.
598—Dick Merriwell’s Influence. 676—-Frank Merriwell’s Ranch Boss
99—F rank Merriwell’s Worst Boy. 677—Dick Merriwell’s Equal.
600—I'rank Merriwell’s Annoyance 678—Dick Merriwell’s Development.
601—F rank Merriwell’s Restraint. 679—Dick Merriwell’s Eye.
602—Dick Merriwell Held Back. 680—Frank }ferriwell’s Zest.
6023—Dick Merriwell in the Line. 681—F rank Merriwell’s Patience.
604—Dick Merriwell’s Drop Kick. 682—Frank Merriwell’s Pupil.
605—Frank Merriwell’s Air Voyage, 683—F rank Merriwell’s Fighters.
684—Dick Merriwell at the “Meet”

ote ae /Merriwell’s Red Cétnrdde -

ank Merriwell in the Saddle

ror,
656—Frank Merriwell’s Red Visitor 728—Frank Merriwell

 
   
  
   
    
 

  

524—Frank Merriwell’s Young Crew 606—Frank Merriwell’s Auto Chase.
§25—Frank Merriwell’s Fast Nine. 607—Frank Merriwell’s Captive.
526—Frank Merriwell's Athletic 608—Dick Merriwell’s Value.
Field. 609—Dick Merriwell Doped.

Pan. Mike Merriwell’s Reprisal. 610—Dick Merriwell’s Belief.

528—Dick Merriwell Dared. 611—F oP Merriwell in the Mar-
52 29 —Dick Merriwell’s Dismay.
530—Frank Merriwell’s Son.
5631—Frank Merriwell’s Old Flock. Fortune.
32—F rank Merriwell’s House Party 6183—Frank Merriwell on Top.
33—Dick Merriwell’s Summer Team 614—Dick Merriwell’s Trip West.
ar pice Merriwell’s Demand.
)

ore

not

685—Dick Merriwell’s Protest.
686—Dick Merriwell in the Mara-

thon
687—Dick Merriwell’s Colors.
688—Dick Merriwell, Driver. :
689—Dick Merriwell on the Deep.

ket
612—Frank Merriwell’s Fight for 690—Dick Merriwell in the Morth

Woods.
691—Dick ) erriwell’s Dandies.
692—Dick Merriwell’s ‘“‘Skyscooter’”’

5s 615—Dick Merriwell’s Predicament 698—Dick Merriwell in the Elk
585—Dick Merriwell’s Slabmate, 616—Dick Merriwell in Mystery Mountains.
536—F a Merriwell’s Summer Valley. 694—Dick Merriwell in Utah.

Ca 617—F rank, Merriwell’s Proposition 695—-Dick Merriwell’s Bluff.
537—Fr ane Mietriwell’s Proposal. a rank Merriwell Perplexed. 696—Dick Merriwell in the Saddle.
5388—Frank Merriwell’s Spook- 619—-Frank Merriwell’s Suspicion. 697—Dick Merriwell’s Ranch

hunters. 620—-LDick Merriwell’s Gallantry.

621—Dick Merriwell’s Condition.
540—Dick Merriwell’s Sacrifice. 622—Dick Merriwell’s Stanchness.
541—-Dick Merriwell’s Heart. 623—Dick Merriwell’s Match.
§42—Frank Merriwell’s New Auto, 624—Frank Merriwell’s Hard Case
543—Frank Merriwell’s Pride. 625—Frank Merriwell’s Helper.
544—Frank Merriwell’s Young 626—Frank Merriwell’s Doubts.
Winners. 627—Frank Merriwell’s ‘‘Phenom.”
5h45—Dick Merriwell’s Lead. 628—Dick Merriwell’s pee)
546—Dick Merriwell’s Influence. 629—Dick Merriwell’s Circle
547—Dick Merriwell’s Top Notch, 630—Dick Merriwell’s Reach.
548—Frank Merriwell’s Kids. 631—Dick Merriwell’s Money.
549—F rank Merriwell’s Kodakers. 632—Dick Merriwell Watched.
§50—Diek / Merriwell, Freshman. 6383—Dick Merriwell Doubted.
551—Dick Merriwell’s Progress. 634—Dick Merriwell’s Distrust,
552-—Dick Merrinicil.. Half-hack. 635—Dick Merriwell’s Risk.
553—Dick Merriwell’s Resentment. 636—Frank Merriwell’s Favorite.
554—Dick Merriwell Repaid. 637—Frank Merriwell’s Young
55 S——Dick Merriwell's Staying Power Clippers.

s

539—Dick Merriwell’s Cheek.

PRICE, FIVE CENTS PER COPY

If vem want any back numbers of our Weeklies and cannot procure them from your newsdealer, they can ee
Postage stamps taken the same as money.

79 Seventh Ave., New York City ‘

. obtained direct from this office.

STREET @ SMITH, Publishers,

 

Friends,
698—Frank Merriwell at Phantom

Lake. y
699—Frank Merriwell’s Hold-back.
700—Frank Merriwell’s Lively Lads
701—Frank Merriwell as Instructor
702—Dick Merriwell’s Cayuse.

703—Dick Merriwell’s Quirt.

704—Dick Merriwell’s Freshman

Friend.
705—Dick Merriwell’s Best Form.
706—Dick Merriwell’s Prank.
707—Dick Merriwell’s Gambol.
7O8—Dick Merriwell’s Gun.
709—Dick Merriwell at His Best.
710—Dick proeere a Master Mind
711—Dick Merriwell’s Dander.
712—-Dick Merriwell's Hope.
713—Dick Merriwell’s Standard.

714—Dick Merriwell’s
715—Dick Merriwell
Land.
716—Frank Merriwell’s Fairness.
717—Frank Merriwell’s Pledge.
718—F Sinn Merriwell, the Man of

71i9—F ane Return 4
Blow j

720-—Frank % Merriwell’s Quest.
721—Frank Merriwell’s Ingots.
an —Frank Merriwell’s Assistance.
3—Frank rae at the
Throttl
724—Frs ae Merriwell the Always

725—F ri: unk Aarvistatt 4 Diamond

Sympathy.
in Lumber

 

Merriwell’s

nd.»
726—F aay Merriwell’s Desperate
Chance.
727—Frank Merriwell’s Black Ter-

Ba 1

Again on
the Slab.

729—Frank Merriwell’s Hard Game

730—Frank Merriwell’s Six-in-hand

731—Frank Merriwell’s Duplicate.

732—Frank Merriwell on Rattle-
snake Ranch.

733—Frank Merriwell’s Sure Hand

734—Fr

ank Merriwell’s Treasure
Map.
735—Frank Merriwell,

the Rope,
736—Dick. Merriwell,

the Varsity.
737—Dick Merriwell’s Contro
738—Dick Merriwell’s Back stop
739—Dick Mérriwell’s Masked En-

emy.
740—Dick Merriwell’s Motor Car.
741—Dick Merriwell’s Hot Pursuit.
742—Dick Merriwell at Forest Lake
743—Dick Merriwell in Court.
744—Dick Merriwell’s Silence.
745—Dick Merriwell’s ac 5
746—Dick Merriwell’s Subterfuge. ;
747——Dick Merriwell’s Enigma. \ Ae
748—Dick Merriwell Defeated. ae
749—Dick Merriwell’s ‘‘Wing.”
750—-Dick Merriwell’s Sky C wen
751—Dick Merriwell’s Pick-ups.
752—Dick Merriwell on the Rocking R

 

 

Prince of

‘
ee of

 

 

7538—Dick Merriwell’s Penetration.
754—Dick Merriwell’s Intuition.
755—Dick Merriwell’s Vantage.
756—Dick Merriwell’s Advice.
757—Dick Merriwell’s Rescue.
758—Dick Merriwell, American,

Merriwell’ s Understand-

   

coer eee k

ng.
760—Dick Merriweil, Tutor.
761—Dick Merriwell’s Quandary.
762—Dick Merriwell on the Boards, -
763—Dick Merriwell, Peacemaker,
764—Frank Merriwell’s Sway.

    
     
 

   

765—Fr sie _Merriwell’s Compre-
sion.
7 66——Fran on Merriwell’s Young
Acrobat. 4 ;
767—Frank Merriwell’s Tact. Leet

768—Frank Merriwell’s Unknown.
769—Frank Merriwell's Acuteness,
770—Frank  Merriwell’s. Young
Canadian.
771—F rank Merriwell’s Coward. -
772—I'rank Merriwell’s Perplexity.
773—F pre Merriwell’s Interven-
tion.

   
   
   
     

774—-Frank Merriwell’s Daring Deed
775—Frank Merriwell’s Succor.
776—Frank Merriwell's Wit.
777—Frank Merriwell’s Loyalty.
778—Frank Merriwell’s Bold Play.

   

779—F rank Merriwell’s Insight,
780—F rank Merriwell’s Guile.
781—F rank Merriwell’s Campaign. —

 
      

      
    

    
       
       
       
     
     
     
        

 
    

   
 
 

 

 

EARLY NUR RReOOr ITHk

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—F rank
167—Frank
178—Frank
184—Frank
189—F rank
193—F rank
197—F rank
201—Frank
205—Frank
209—F rank
213—Frank
217—Frank
225—Frank
2290—Frank
233—F rank
237—Frank
240—Frank
244—F rank
247—Frank
251—Frank
254—F rank
258—F rank
262—F rank
267—Frank
271—F rank
276—Frank
280—Frank
284—Frank
288—F rank
292—F rank
296—Frank
300—F rank
304—F rank
308—Frank
312—Frank
316—Frank
320—Frank
324—F rank
328—F rank
332—F rank
336—Frank
340—Frank
344—Frank
348—Frank
352—Frank

Merriwell’s School-days.
Merriwell’s Chums.
Merriwell’s Foes.
Merriwell’s Trip West.
Merriwell Down South.
Merriwell’s Bravery.
Merriwell’s Hunting Tour.
Merriwell in Europe.
Merriwell at Yale.
Merriwell’s Sports Afield.
Merriwell’s Races.
Merriwell’s Bicycle Tour.
Maerriwell’s Courage.
Merriwell’s Daring.
Merriwell’s Athletes.
Merriwell’s Skill.
Merriwell’s Champions.
Merriwell’s
Merriwell’s
Merriwell’s Danger.
Merriwell’s Loyalty.
Merriwell in Camp.
Merriwell’s Vacation.
Merriwell’s Cruise.
Merriwell’s Chase.
Merriwell in Maine.
Merriwell’s Struggle.
Merriwell’s First Job.
Merriwell’s Opportunity.
Merriwell’s Hard Luck.
Merriwell’s Protégé.
Merriwell on the Road.
Merriwell’s Own Company.
Merriwell’s Fame.
Merriwell’s College Chums.
Merriwell’s Problem.
Merriwell’s Fortune.
Merriwell’s New Comedian
Merriwell’s Prosperity.
Merriwell’s Stage Hit.
Merriwell’s Great Scheme.
Merriwell in England.
Merriwell on the Boulevards.
Merriwell’s Duel.
Merriwell’s Double Shot.

Secret.

356—F rank Merriwell’s Baseball Victories

359—Frank

Merriwell’s Confidence.

Return to Yale.

362—F rank
365—Frank
308—F rank
371—F rank
374—F rank
377—F rank
380—F rank
383—Frank
386—Frank
389—F rank
392—F rank
3905—F rank
398—F rank
401—F rank
404—Frank
407—F rank
410—Frank
413—Frank
416—Frank
419—Frank

22—Frank
425—Frank
428—Frank
43I—Frank
434—F rank
437—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.
Merrivell’s Set-back.
Merriwell’s Search.
Merriwell’s Club.
Merriwell’s Trust.
Merriwell’s False Friend.
Merriwell’s Strong Arm.
Merriwell as Coach.
Merriwell’s Brother.
Merriwell’s Marvel.
Merriwell’s Support.

440—Dick Merriwell at Fardale.
443—Dick Merriwell’s Glory.

446—Dick
449—Dick
452—Dick
455—Dick
458—Dick
461—Dick
464—Dick
467—Dick
470—Frank

Merriwell’s Promise.
Merriwell’s Rescue.
Merriwell’s Narrow Escape.
Merriwell’s Racket.
Merriwell’s Revenge.
Merriwell’s Ruse.
Merriwell’s Delivery.
Merriwell’s Wonders.

Merriwell’s Honor.

473—Dick Merriwell’s Diamond.

476—Frank

Merriwell’s Winners.

479—Dick Merriwell’s Dash.
482—Dick Merriwell’s Ability.
485—Dick Merriwell’s Trap.
488—Dick Merriwell’s Defense.
491—Dick Merriwell’s Model.
494—Dick Merriwell’s Mystery.

497—F rank

Merriwell’s Backers.

500—Dick Merriwell’s Backstop.

503—Dick Merriwell’s Western Mission.
506—Frank Merriwell’s Rescue.
509—Frank Merriwell’s Encounter.
512—Dick Merriwell’s Marked Money.
515—Frank Merriwell’s Nomads.
518—Dick Merriwell on the Gridiron.
521—Dick Merriwell’s Disguise.
524—Dick Merriwell’s Test.

527—F rank 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.
563—Frank Merriwell’s Pursuit.
366—Dick Merriwell Abroad.

5690—F rank Merriwell in the Rockies.
572—Dick Merriwell’s Pranks.
575—Frank Merriwell’s Pride.
578—Frank Merriwell’s Challengers.
581—F rank Merriwell’s Endurance,
584—Dick Merriwell’s. Cleverness.
587—Frank Merriwell’s Marriage.
500—Dick Merriwell, the Wizard.
593—Dick Merriwell’s Stroke.
506—Dick Merriwell’s Return.
5900—Dick Merriwell’s Resource.

Published about January 1oth, Igrt.
602—Dick Merriwell’s Five.

Published about January 3ist, TOIT.

605—Frank Merriwell’s Tigers.

Published about February 21st, IOI.
608—Dick Merriwell’s Polo Team,

 

 

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, NEW YORK CITY