| No.820 DEC.30,191 5 CENTS

TIP TOP WEEKLY

AN IDEAL PUBLICATION FOR THE AMERICANYOUTH
Dick Merriwells

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No. 820.

NEW YORK, December 30, 1911.

Price Five Cents.

 

DICK MERRIWELL’S BETRAYAL;
Or, THE CONSPIRACY THAT FAILED.

By Burt L. Standish.

CHAPTER I.
A GIRL IN PERIL.

“The launch is ready, sir.’

-Thornton Winslow, slim, blond, and with the air of
one habitually bored, nodded briefly to the steward, and
then turned to Dick Merriwell, who sat beside him on
the deck of the steam yacht Peerless.

“T thought you might care to take a look about be-
fore you meet your friends,’ he explained indolently.
“Tt’s rather an interesting place in its way.”

The Yale man turned his head from the panorama
of sea and shore and rugged mountain-batking spread
out before them, and nodded an eager assent.

t “T should, immensely,” he said promptly. “If the

city is as inviting as its harbor, it should be well worth

seeing ; and the Arlingtons said they could hot possibly
et down from the hills before twelve.”’

The young Boston millionaire shrugged his shoul-
ders as he arose Len, from the cushioned wicker
chair.

“T won’t promise you that,’ he smiled.
- Harbor is one of the most beautiful in South America,
if not the world. It’s always reminded mea little of
the Bay of Naples, with the land curving out on both
sides and the mountains behind. The city would have

-. to be perfection to match it, but you'll find it pic-
- turesque enough, in spite of the dirt. There’s an odd
combination of old-world atmosphere and modern up-

ay _ to-dateness which is interesting. Coming, Brad?”

: ‘Buckhart, Merriwell’s Texan chum, turned from the
Spal with alacrity.

_ “IT sure am!” he ejaculated.

ee stir amy stumps all morning.”

“T’ve been wanting to

““Santador |

/

Winslow laughed as he led the way to the side.
“T’d hate to be cooped up with you on a trip across —
the Atlantic,” he said good-naturedly. “About-the

third day out you’d have ruts worn in the deck, and

before we landed you would be stoking the engines to
get rid of that superfluous energy.” :

“Can't sit still all the time and do nothing,” Brad
grinned, as he followed the other two into the trim
launch waiting at the side.

Winslow laughed again, and languidly took the
wheel.

“I find it superlatively easy,” he returned. “It’s
such a nuisance to be continually thinking up things
to do when you can sit comfortably by and watch some
one else do them twice as well as you can.’

Dick smiled mischievously.

“In other words, Thorn,” he chuckled, “you believe
in being strictly ornamental.”

He would never have said such a thing had he really
believed it. He knew, however, that, despite his lazy,
indolent manner, the Harvard man was capable of a
great deal in the way of action when the occasion arose.
He had played a brilliant game on the varsity football
team in his undergraduate days, and rowed on the
Cambridge crew for two years. Having a large for-
tune in his own right, which enabled him to gratify his
every whim, he spent much of his time flitting from —

place to place in his perfectly appointed yacht, ap- — a
parently an idle butterfly of fashion; but Merriwell —
knew that underneath he was capable of vastly oe é?
ent thin is

»

“How well you put it,” Winslow dieawdledy a8 ms =

_ guided the rapidly moving boat skillfully, but without —

 
2 Tie LOOP WEEBEY,

the least appearance of thought or effort, across the
crowded harbor. ‘Some one has to be ornamental,
you know.”

The harbor of the capital city of Valdivia was in-
deed one of the most perfect Merriwell had ever seen.
It was roughly circular in shape, formed by two points
of laud which ran out on either side, which were per-
haps three miles apart. Their extremities were forti-
fied with elaborate and extensive walls of heavy stone,
on which were mounted guns of an apparently large
caliber.

Santador itself nestled at the head of the harbor.
It was a city of some size, and, as it lay there, spread
out along the shore, with the towering outlines of a
mountain spur rising back of it, rough and precipitous,
it was extraordinarily picturesque. The houses and
other buildings were mostly of a mellow white color
which age alone can give, and were interspersed so
skillfully with trees and gardens that the whole effect
was of a series of airy country places, rather than a
closely built city of considerable size.

As they neared the landing, however, Merriwell saw
that this effect had been produced by artifice. In reality
the central part of town, at least, was quite as crowded
as most South American HES and the water front
quite as squalid. 3

“This is the worst part of it,’’ Winslow said, as he
guided the boat dexterously to the landing beside
the pier and stood watching the two~sailors make

fast. ‘““They’re so busy down here having revolutions
and that sort of thing that they haven’t time to waste
beautifying the surroundings.”’

They stepped ashore and strolled up the narrow in-
cline to the pier. Winslow paused to light a cent,
and then, as they went on, he continued :
“Tn fact, I very much doubt whether they i imagine it

could be improved. They’re a conservative crowd, and
things have always been this way. What was good
enough for their fathers and grandfathers is ‘good
| enough for them.”

“That’s one of the things which makes Forel places
so interesting,” Dick remarked, as they left the dock

and turned into a narrow, stone-paved street. “They
may be-dirty and unsanitary and all that, but the very
fact that they haven’t changed a particle in hundreds

of years makes them fascinating to Americans.”
“Particularly when we don’t have to live in’ them,”
Winslow chuckled. “You're right, Dick. Look at
_ these houses. There’s nothing like them at home.”
He waved one hand toward the buildings of stone |
and adobe, the latter painted i in bright, vivid hues, with.
roofs of red tile and delicately wrought iron grills at
~ doors and windows. It was all quaint and unysual,
_ and the two Yale men were enthusiastic in their praise.
It was not, however, until they reached the central
plaza that they paused i in astonishment at the scene be-
fore them. _
Tt was a great open saat taiued bye anti they had
ever seen used for that purpose, made by the intersec-
tion of, sos, Lassa Aah streets. oe center bee this alee

A

was filled with trees, shrubbery, and brilliant flower
beds, through which wound curving walks set along
with benches. This rectangle of luxuriant green was
edged by four wide avenues on which most of the prin-
cipal buildings of the city fronted.

Opposite them rose the great graystone tower of the
cathedral, with its clustering groups of buildings, mel-
low with the hue which time alone can give. Beyond,
showing but faintly through the trees, was a vast, low
front of marble pierced with many windows, which
Winslow told them was the president’s palace. There
were other public buildings here and there, but the
great bulk of space was given over to shops, restau-
rants, and cafés, their fronts entirely open and pro-
tected by gayly striped awnings extending out over the
sidewalks.

The streets were filled with people passing and re-

passing in endless streams. Priests pattered along in.

sandaled feet, rubbing elbows with negro mule drivers
or ragged beggars. “Girls and wotnen carried water
jars on their heads, or, empty-handed, paused at shop
windows to examine the things displayed. Officers in
uniform lounged before the cafés or sat at little tables

sipping their drinks leisurely. Slint, dark-faced —

dandies, in immaculate white duck, strolled about or
stood at the curbing, talking impressively to some dark:
eyed sefiorita sitting in her carriage.

The buzz and hum of voices sounded everywhere,
and, mingled with it, were constant bursts of light-
hearted laughter. The whole air of the place, in fact,

was one of gay leisure. No one hurried or acted as if

he had anything very important on his mind.

“Yes, they take life very easily,” Winslow said,
when Dick commented on this fact. “It’s very like an
Italian or Spanish town in that respect. There’s al-

ways a to-morrow. This is the principal part of the _
town, where there is more doing than anywhere else.
On some of the quieter streets you might fancy your- cg

self in a deserted city.”

“It’s very interesting, ” Merriwell returned, glancing —
e see nothing like this at home. ;

curiously about.
What a lot of soldiers there are around,’ a

Winslow smiled a bit..

“Yes, the army is one of the few institutions. whi de
“It’s a most important —
factor in the various political moves, for no matter
what party is in power: it is dependent’a on the soldiers:

thrives constantly,” he said.)

”

for-——”" ey hi 8
_ He broke ‘off and firtied: with lifted dvelitncans to.
glance up the street from which came the sound of

horses galloping furiously. An instant later ‘cries of $s

alarm rang out shrilly where before had been only ga

talk and laughter, and the: people began to fly to one

side or another, bursting ‘into shops or taking refuge
among the trees of the plaza.’ Carriages were hast

- pulled close to the curb or rushed down side:

and in a miraculously short time the center? of t
wide avenue had. been need Tae ie ig ae

 

. te A OU. AO beet CR tee

Q> -@ cet} A A TM Ad tt eee

fe Hee ek ae
 

dar or

the cause of the commotion: Straight down that long,
empty stretch came a pair of splendid horses, racing
at breakneck speed. Wiaith eyes wide and rolling, nos-
_trils distended and foam flecking their scarlet mouths
and splashed over chests, they seemed the epitome of
mad terror. One rein was broken off short while the
other dragged on the ground, and behind them lurched
a carriage shaped like a victoria, but with two seats
opposite each other back of the high coachman’s box.

The latter was empty, but in the rear seat, feet
braced, and slender, gloved hands gripping the sides,
was a girl of nineteen or twenty, whose exquisite
beauty struck the three men at the same instant with
the force of an electric shock.

There was no time for conscious planning. Dick
happened to be standing nearest the curb, and, as that
swift vision of beautiful face, pale and tight-lipped,
but with fearless eyes, was seared upon his brain, he
| _- gathered his muscles and flung himself into the path-
way of the maddened horses as instinctively as he
might have tackled the man with the ball in those old
days at Yale.

As he landed in the roadway he reached with both
hands for the mouths of the brutes which towered
above him to an incredible height. Another moment
and his fingers closed over something leather, his feet
left the ground, and he was borne on by the frantic ani-
mals without perceptible slackening of their speed.

>

 

 

CHAPTER IIL.
THE BEAUTIFUL DOLORES.

  

-riwell was conscious of but one thing—the necessity
of mastering the maddened horses before they did for
him. His ears were deaf to the screams and shouts

  
    
 

derous pounding of eight iron-shod hoofs on the
smooth roadway. His eyes saw nothing but two foam-
flecked chests, with now and then-a glimpse of open,
red-lined mouths.

There was one other thing. The face of the girl
in the carriage had been photographed upon his brain
_ with such perfection of detail that it never left him for
an instant.
sion of despairing fearlessness in the glorious dark
eyes. It was as if she had no hope of rescue, but dis-
dained to show even the faintest tremor. She was a
_ thoroughbred, if there ever was one, and Dick made
_ up his mind that he would save her or perish in the
attempt. :

For what seemed an eternity, he sawed away at the
horses’ mouths with a strength which would have
_ been impossible in one less muscular or perfectly
_.. trained. -He had been fortunate enough to grasp the
am reins close up to the bit, a hand to each animal. Other-
wise, his weight dragging all on one side would have
pulled the team in toward the sidewalk, and the affair
would have ended with tragic abruptness. As it was,

   
    
   
  
   
   
   
  
   
   
  
    
  
 

 

From the instant of his leaving the sidewalk Mer- |

and clamor all about him, and recorded only the thun- .

He could not rid himself of that expres-

_ the runaways kept the road, though for a time they

WEEKLY. | 3

showed no signs of being affected by the dead, drag-
ging weight of the man at their heads.

On they dashed out of the plaza and abe the con-
tinuation of the avenue where buildings lined both
sides.. Merriwell kept his legs curled up under him
as best he could, not daring to let them drag for. fear
of being hit by the flying hoofs. Once he was con-
scious of a slight jar, and an unusually shrill scream
made him wonder vaguely if they had grazed another
vehicle. Now and then a stone struck him as it was
scooped up from the dilapidated roadway, and once
there was a sharp blow on the ankle, followed by a
stinging pain as the shoe of one of the horses cut
into his flesh.

His breath was coming in gasps n@w, and the pain in
his wrists and fingers growing almost intolerable. The
flying foam covered his face and hair and hearly
blinded him. The rising clouds of dust choked him.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, however, the runaways
began to slow down. The wonder was that they had
been able to keep up the mad pace so long, but thor-
oughbreds can accomplish a great deal on mere nerve
alone. It remained only a question now as to whether —
man or brute could hold out the longest, and Merri-
well,. with swimming head and gritted teeth, found
himself muttering over and over again:

“I won't let go! I won't let go—I won’t!” |
The horses were breathing in great gasps, and their
chests heaved laboriously. They were running in ir-
regular spurts now, and presently one of them stum-
bled, recovered himself, stumbled again. Finally both

horses came to a trembling halt.

Merriwell’s feet struck the ground, and for:a mo-
ment or two he stood leaning against the animal near- |
est him, his fingers «still retaining their cramped hold
on the bits. He had a feeling that if he let go he
would topple over into the roadway or do something
equally foolish, so he stood there, wondering if he was
ever going to be able to get enough air in his lungs
again, until he felt a soft touch on his arm.

“Oh, sefior, you are hurt! you are wounded!” came
in a trembling voice from close beside him.

Dick raised his head, and, turning quickly, looked
into the face of the girl he had rescued. She was
standing close beside him, one hand on his arm, her
face raised anxiously to his. . Again he thought it the

most beautiful face he had ever seen—even more lovely

now with the color of excitement tingeing her white —
skin and that. mingled expression of anxiety and over-
powering admiration in the glorious black eyes.
Merriwell gave his shoulders a shake and swept one
sleeve across his face. | ‘
“Not a bit,” he said, with a faint, whimsical smile.
“Only winded—that’s all.”
“But your leg!” she protested, pointing down. aes
bleeds. You have been cut, sefior.’ |

‘She spoke in English, perfectly, but with a site 3 . a

inflection of some of the words which was betwitch- _
ing. Dick glanced down and saw that the right leg —

of his ae had been slit raggedly almost AOR se ome

  

  
4 TIP TOP

to ankle and was stained with blood, which still glis-
tened wetly. Irom head to foot, moreover, his white
flannel ‘suit was smeared with dust and foam, while
one would have been at a loss to tell what color his
white shoes had once been.

He looked swiftly back at the girl, his face flushed
with embarrassment.

“Pm a disgusting mess, not fit to be seen on the
public street!” he exclaimed in annoyance.

Her eyes flashed indignantly.

“How can you say such things!’ she exclaimed.
“You are brave—brave! You have saved me when not
another soul so much as tried. You must not talk that
way.”

- Without giving him a chance to answer, she whirled
around on the crowd of people who were venturing
near, now that the danger was past.

“Take the horses, some of you!”
periously, in Spanish. “At least, you can do that
much, now that the sefior has stopped them. Hurry!’

Several men sprang hastily forward and grasped
the bits as Dick relinquished them.

“But, yes, your excellency,” one of them murmured
obsequiously. “We were ready, but did not like to in-
-terrupt.”

She made no repl y, but turned back to Dick, who was
watching her in curious admiration. He wondered
who she was and why the men seemed so cowed and
anxious to please her. Certainly that imperious air,
which gave the impression that she thought the people
she ordered about so calmly were but dust under her
feet, only added to her vivid beauty.

Perhaps she saw the question in his eyes, for her
own softened, and she took a step toward him.
“Iam Dolores Ensenada,” she explained, in her fas-
‘cinating English. “I thought perhaps you knew.’

Dick shook his head. |

_“T have only just arrived, sefiorita, "he answered. “I
am ashamed to say that I did not even know the presi-
dent had a daughter. You see, | was quite ignorant
of the service I was doing for Valdivia. I only. did

”

she ordered im-

it—— .
igs TAS you foald have done for any woman,” she fin-
ished quickly. Then, for the first time, she smiled, and
_ Merriwell wondered whether there could possibly be

any more expressions that would add charm to her
wonderful beauty.
I not go to school for three years at Washington?

“You see, 1 know Americans. Did
a But here am I gabbling when you have need of a doc-
RO Ch eae
| “T really need a wash and change of clothes far
_ more,” Dick said.
_ back to the yacht. and be made presbrtable,
scarcely decent now.”
Before she could reply, heed came a bustle on 1 the

ae

“edge of the crowd which had gathered about them, and
a moment later the people parted hastily to make room |
fora man on parapets who forced his ta hurriedly

oe, the crush, |

“The best thing I can do is to go

WEEKLY.

ance flitted across the girl’s face, and her lips tightened

a trifle.

The fellow was slim and delicately made, with a
face which was handsome in a sallow, effeminate way.
He was dressed in a gaudy uniform that fitted him like
a glove, and he managed his horse with the ease and
skill of second nature.

Before the animal had even stopped, he was out of
the saddle and rushing to the girl’s side.

“Dolores!” he cried, seizing her hand and kissing it
extravagantly. ‘‘Heaven be praised that you are safe!
I have been nearly mad with fear for you. I was at
the club when you flashed past, but before I could
mount my horse you were out of reach.”

The girl withdrew her hand hastily.

“Happily another was swifter to act, Eugenio,’’ she
returned coldly, “or I should not be here now. ‘This
gentleman seized the horses by their heads and was
dragged more than the length of the plaza.”

The Spaniard turned impulsively to Dick and
grasped both his hands.

“You are my benefactor, sefior!”’ he cried floridly.
“You have saved me from a living death. From this
moment Eugenio Duranzo is your friend and debtor.”’

Dick smiled rather faintly. He was beginning to
feel a little weary of standing around, and somehow

the discovery that this lovely girl was evidently be- _

trothed to a little whippersnapper of a’ dandy ruffled
his composure. She seemed worthy of something far
better. And yet, after all, what business was it of
his? ye

“You are very good, sefior,” he returned. “TI feel —
amply rewarded, however, in having been of some.
slight service to Senorita Ensenada.”

He turned to the girl and found her dark eyes fixed |
on his face with an expression in them which sent the -
blood tingling in his finger tips and made him hesi-.
tate an fhstant before he spoke. :

“T hope you w ill pardon me if I leave you, sefiorita,’
he said quietly, “You are well protected, and I am-
anxious to get to the yacht and make myself decent —
as quickly as possible.” He hesitated an instant and
then went on more slowly: “My name is Richard
Merriwell, and I am more happy than I can say at the
chance which brought me to the plaza when it ‘did.

The girl stretched out her Hane Sera, and he
took it.

“But is there nothing we can do?” she cried.
seems heartless to let you go away alone.”

“My friends are about here somewhere,”

“Th

Dick « said,
“And, really, I’m not hurt to speak of. Tm more trou-
bled about the disgusting mess I’m in than anything.”

“But you will come to the palace?” the girl ques-

tioned, after a moment’s pause. “My father will wish

‘to thank: you, and I—shall be glad to see Or eet)

Merriwell bowed his acquiescence.

“I should be delighted to come,’ : |
promptly, “though I do not deserve any more tl nks,
My peared 5 hee RES cana a eh eta

he .

 
Ti LOR

   
 

A faint flush like the color of a wild rose was in
her cheeks as he bowed again and turned toward the
sidewalk, but she did not speak. Nor did Duranzo,
who stood beside her twisting his little waxed mus-
tache; ‘but the look in his eyes, as they followed the
broad back of the American, was not exactly one of
love.

CHAPTER IIL.
THE ARLINGTONS IN TROUBLE.

The crowd parted promptly to make a lane through
which Merriwell could pass, and from every side came
admiring comments about the bravery, courage, and
strength of ef Americano in stopping the runaways
and saving the life of the president’s daughter.

Dick’s ears were tingling, and he was wondering
whether he would have to run the gantlet of impulsive
Spanish women whom he saw on the sidewalk beyond,
when Buckhart and Winslow suddenly appeared be-

side him.

“Put it there, old bronc!” exclaimed the
grabbing his hand and pumping it up and down.
‘sure are some cayuse tamer !”’

_- Winslow only smiled, but as they moved on down
the street his hand rested quietly on Dick’s shoulder
in a manner which was unusual for him.

“Talk about luck!” continued the Texan;

“do have it! Waugh! She’s a peach! Did you ever
see such eyes in all your natural days? She can warm
her beans at my camp fire. You hear me!”

 

‘Texan,
“You

“vou sure

- ceeding,” Merriwell smiled.

-Buckhart stopped and gazed at him itieredudously.
; “That little runt!” he ejaculated: “Say, pard, you

_ don’t really mean he’s in the: Bite You're trying
to string me some, aren’t you?

“From what I gathered, he’s not only in the running,
but has won the prize,” Dick returned quietly.

“By thunder, what a rotten shame!” the Texan
snapped disgustedly. “Just think of a corking girl like
_ that tied up to a dinky yellow monkey. She can’t love
him, you know. It sure makes a chap sore as a flea-
SS witten coyote.’

“You seem to take an extraordinary interest in the
young lady,” Winslow drawled, as they turned into
the street leading to the dock. “It isn’t possible that
cs her eyes have worked are in your manly bosom al-
_ ready, I hope?”
~ Buckhart grinned.

_ “Not yet,” he affirmed.

  

  

}

|

  

  

“Bat I Sutr you wha Thorn,

tie this bronc. You hear me softly gurgle!”

   
  

remark. To Dick he seemed, in fact, unusually quiet,

eh

fulness.

have forgotten pect ca

“I’m afraid Mr, Duranzo might object to that pro-

it wouldn’t take a right long time for her to rope and
Winslow moved his. shoulders slightly, but made no
though his face showed nothing save a slight thought-

a never told us ‘Rnsetady: had a daughter, é dent Ensenada on remarkably fair terms, and i
I  Merriwell remarked, after they had em-—
od and put off from the pee | “You ey couldn’ tt

OE irae. a believed: in the: immense | future

     
  
   
  
   
   
  
   
      
  
   
 
   
 

WEEKLY. a ee

“Searcely,”’ the Harvard man said. “She's not the
sort one would quickly forget. ‘This happens to be the
first time I ever saw her. For the past three or four:
winters she’s been up North at school.”

There was another pause, which was broken by
Suckhart. ;

“Who's the runt she’s engaged to?” he asked tartly.

“Eugenio Duranzo,” Winslow replied. “He's the
only son of the vice president.”

“Oh! Political affair, is it?” |

“T suppose so. I imagine Duranzo has aspirations
for the presidency. Every man of any importance has
them, of course; but Duranzo has something of a
support among the people, and no doubt old [n-
senada wants to cinch him.”

“Rotten shame!’’ growled Brad.

Winslow made no reply. Whatever he thought of
the matter, he kept it strictly to himself, and, when
they reached the side of the Peerless, he turned to
Merriwell.

“Your friends, the Arlingtons,: will have quite a
wait, old fellow,” he drawled. “It’s twelve and after,
and they’re probably wondering impatiently why you
don’t’ show up at the Alcazar. Suppose Trun back and
bring them out here? They can lunch with us, and
afterward you can have your talk in decidedly more
privacy than you could on shore.” .

“That would be corking, Thorn!’ Dick replied

      
       
         
     
     
     
           
 

promptly. “But I don’t want to put you to a lot of
bother.” , |
“Rot!’?, Winslow said succinctly. “You hustle up

   

and make yourself decent. You're a holy show now,
and I’d hate like the mischief to have Miss Arlington ©
see you. It might spoil everything, ocr know.” eS

He grinned mischiiey ously as the launch shot aways
from the yacht’s side, and, though he smiled back in
perfect good humor, there was a faint flush on Dick’s
handsome face as he hastened below to the comfort-
able stateroom he occupied, and began to strip off his: 43
clothes. “*,
The events of the morning had effectually taken Hibs:
mind from the matter which had brought him to
South America. But, during the process of bathing, —
bandaging, and dressing, he thought of little else.

He and Buckhart had been upon the point of leaving —
Panama for home, after a stay on the isthmus of some
weeks, when a letter had reached him from June Ar-
lington, which caused a complete change in his plans.

Ever since early spring, Chester, June’s brother, —
had been interested in forming an asphalt company to
develop vast beds of that. commodity. in the South
American republic of Valdivia. The matter had grown
more and more promising until finally Arlington threw
up everything else and devoted Thee a and soul
‘to the undertaking. | 2 |

It was he who had seciired concessions ‘hha resi:

 
       
       
        
     
      
      
        
     
 

  
    
  
   
     
  
  

    
   

partly through his efforts that capital sufficient to star
the enterprise became interested. ‘Personally. ie so

     

 

   

 

    
  
   

   

6

 

business that he had put into it every cent he pos-
sessed or controlled, which included the fortunes of
his sister and widowed mother.

Dick did not quite approve of the latter proceeding,
though there seemed no doubt that the money invested
would return a tremendous interest. It did not seem
to him, however, quite the thing to sink the property

of women in anything which had the slightest risk
= about it, even if those women had consented of their

own free will to the:step.

Unfortunately, the matter had been settled before
he knew anything about it. Moreover, his hands were
tied in a measure, for his feelings toward June made
it impossible for him gracefully to object to the ar-
rangement.

That had all taken place during the | summer time.
Toward the end of August, the preliminaries had been
settled, and Chester departed for V aldivia to take up
his position as managing director of the company.

For a time all went well. Dick heard of every-
thing through June, who was tremendously enthusias-
tic, and who had followed her brother six weeks later.
She wrote that the climate was perfect, the people in-
teresting and attractive, and the work progressing
swimmingly. — ,

The letter which reached Dick at Panama, how-
ever, was written in a slightly different tone. The
girl made no actual statements to that effect, but Mer-
riwell, reading between the lines, felt certain that diff-
culties of some sort had cropped up and that trouble
-was brewing for his friends.
~ Quick to make up his mind, he had cabled at once
that he and Buckhart were coming down to Valdivia,
and asked the Arlingtons if they could meet him in
-Santador., An affirmative response was soon received,
and the two friends made preparations for taking the
‘regular steamer.

‘They did not take it, however. Two days before the
date of sailing, Thornton Winslow appeared off
Panama) on his yacht; and, when he learned their des-
tination, he insisted that he be allowed to take them
‘to Santador on the Peerless.

The voyage was delightful, for the Harvard man
was a perfect host, and the Peerless could not possi-
ey bly have been more luxuriously appointed. Dick de-
BA liberately refrained from spoiling the trip by worry-
ing about his friends, or even trying to guess the na-
ture of their difficulties. He would know soon enough,
and, meanwhile, having no information whatever, it
would be merely useless guesswork to try to fathom it.
es Now, however, when the time was so near that
he would find out everything, he could not help won-
OMe a little.

   
   
 
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
        
     
     
       
     
     
      
        
      
 
     
     
       
     
     
     
     
     
      
    
     
     
     
      
 
   
         
      

Perhaps the very smoothness with which
He knew a good’ deal

had arisen.
things had gone was ominous,

  

~cessions.
ing upset of governments made possible all sorts of
| ecpsammaaes

   

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

Prospects had’ seemed so good from.
the very start that he could not imagine what hitch

- about the unstable nature of South American con-
Revolutions were common and the result-_

In addition, the eee pol-

iticians were notorious grafters, with small hesitation
about breaking their word, if they saw a way of
profiting thereby.

“Well, Pll know pretty quick now,” he murmured,
as he slipped into his white flannel coat and made his
way on deck. “I hope to goodness it isn’t as serious as
I think. If their money should be wiped out Oh,

thunder!. It hasn’t come to that, by a long shot, yet!”

 

CHAPTER IV. F
WITHOUT JUSTICE OR HONOR.

“But what makes yau think anything is wrong?”
Chester Arlington asked, in surprise. “I certainly
never wrote anything about it.’ Did you, June?”

The girl shook her head. )

“Not a word,”, she answered quietly.

Dick frowned in mock severity.

“JT never supposed you were so foolish,” he said
quickly. “What earthly use are friends if you can’t
tell them your troubles? Luckily, I read between the
lines of June’s last letter, and, if I had been at all in
doubt that things weren’t going smoothly, your man-

ner to-day, Chet, would have convinced me that I had

guessed right.”

Arlington’s laugh contained a decided note of an- tt

noyance.

“Is my face such an open book as that?” he asked:
“T flattered myself that I had developed into a rather
clever diplomat. I’ve certainly had practice enough
dealing with these Spanish politicians the last six
months.” | | 7

“Happily, they don’t know you as well as I do,”
Merriwell returned. “Well, let’s have it. What’s the

trouble? I thought everything was going as smoothly

as possible.”

Chester hesitated an instant, and clade around the
“a of the Peerless. It was after luncheon, and the
three friends were sitting together aft.
Buckhart had diplomatically disappeared shortly after

the party came on deck, so that the others were quite _

alone.

“TI suppose I should have told you, anyhow,”
lington began slowly, his troubled eyes returning to
Dick’s face. “It’s a comfort to let loose on some one,

and you've helped me out of scrapes before now. [’m _

a little afraid there’s nothing doing | this time, ote
We’re in one bad hole, old fellow.”

He paused a second, as if to straighten out the mat- |

ter in his own mind.

“You remember the terms of the concession, don’ t

“The government here _
gave us sole rights to the largest asphalt deposit, which
is some-twelve miles back in the country, fora period

you?” he went on presently.

of ninéty-nine years, agreed to admit supplies and

machinery duty free, and allowed us to run a ‘rail- Af
road down to the harbor and build a pier there. _ an
return, we are bound to give them fifteen per cent of secs
the total revenue, and to employ oy erie la-

borers in the work. Pia y oe

Winslow and

Ar--

     

Sig OMNES SA EER

  

 

 

eet

eens Se ew ne ere
a aa pers

        
       
      
       
  
    
 
   
  
 
 
   
    
    
  
   
     
   
   
   
   
    
    
   
      
       
     
    
   
   
   
   
   
    
    
    
    

S1P TOP.

 
 

“That sounds explicit enough,” Dick commented.
“Have you got it down hard and fast?”

“Hard and fast!’ Arlington exclaimed. bitterly.
“Tt’s my belief that such a thing is impossible in this
forsaken country. I tell you, Dick, they'd manage to
wriggle out of any conceivable bargain they'd put their
signatures to, if they could profit by it. -The com-
mon people are all right, except that they don’t seem to
have the spirit of a mouse; but the politicitans—the
governing class—haven’t the faintest conception of de-
cency or honor. I had those. papers drawn up with
the greatest possible care. There wasn’t a thing left
out, for I spent weeks and weeks at it. Back home,
the cleverest and most unscrupulous corporation lawyer
couldn’t have found a flaw in it. They would have
been upheld by any court in the country. But that’s
just where I slipped up. In Valdivia they haven’t any
courts or justice. It’s a one-man rule, and no medieval
king ever had more power or ran things in a more
despotic manner than this Ensenada.”

“But I thought he had a cabinet and vice president,
and all that sort of thing,” Dick put in, puzzled.

Arlington laughed harshly.

“Oh, “everything's according to Hoyle, all right,”

_ he sneered; “but it’s a mere show. They make a great
_ parade at election time, and you'd think the common
people had something ‘to say about the way they’re
governed; but they “haven’t any more than a cat.
Ensenada’s the whole shooting match, and the rest are
just little puppets, who dance when he pulls the strings.
He’s got a grip on the government monopolies and rev-
- enues, and; by doling out their pay about six months
behind, he has the army on his side. The so-called
judges are paid by him, and, consequently, their deci-
sions are his decisions.”
Dick gave a low whistle.
_.. “That’s news to me,” he commented thought Rally.
“Winslow didn’t say anything about such a condition
of affairs.”
“Perhaps he didn’t know,” June put in. “On the
surface, everything seems regular enough. It’s only
- When you have dealings with them the way Chet has
that you find out the real truth, Mr. Winslow has
seen. only surface conditions, which, I admit, are very
charming.”
re on See % Nidal Welt said. “Ww ell, what has he done?
What does he want from Vor
“The whole hog!” Arlington returned, with more
“force than elegance. “A fter we've sunk our money

ee eatin 3 dees

 

 

    
       
     
   
    

_ shipping, he thinks he’d like to add asphalt to the gov-
ernment monopolies, which means that about. nine-
i pockets. ie

a aa surely ¢ even he can *t have the face a demand

nything so outrageous as that!” Dick protested.

Arlington gave a short but eloquent laugh.

“Oh, no! He’s too smart for that,”
: ‘His, excuse is that he was deceived as to the value of
the ACE ee His dummy minister of the interior did

  

  
  

REEVE:

ae into the railroad and pier, and got everything ready for

tenths of the ae would go directly into his own

he, ‘exclaimed.

netged: in so bigs won't ian a ey to ‘plot jus

       

oS

all the investigating, and, now that the time is. ripe,
insenada makes a great parade of indignation that the
people are being cheated out of their just profits. *
That's one of his pet phrases, you know. He thinks
a whole lot of his dear people at a time like this.
He plays the part of the beneficent, fatherly ruler very
well indeed. Well, he made a grand-stand play of
firing out the minister of the interior—he’s probably
made it right with him some other way—and says
there must be a complete readjustment of our mat-
ter. All he wants is seventy per cent of the out-
put.” |

“Seventy per cent!” Dick gasped. “Why, he must
be crazy! That wouldn't leave you enough to pay e
PCUSES, let alone interest on your investment.”

“So I told him, and he seemed politely incredulous.
Says labor is cheap, and it costs next to nothing to get
the asphalt out—it’s on the surface, you know. « Oh,
you may be sure I gave him every argument I could
think of, but I might. as well have been talking to one
of the statues out in the plaza for all the effect it
had. What he really wants is for us to throw the
thing up and take our loss.”

Merriwell’s face was serious. »

“Jove!” he exclaimed regretfully.
than I thought it could be.”

“Tt’s ruin, that’s all,’ Arlington said, with a sie
effort to keep his voice steady. “I know. Miguel En-—
senada, and as long as he’s president of Valdivia, we
haven’t a chance on earth of getting justice.” :

Dick suddenly flung back his head and stared at his
friend.

‘As long as he’s president!” he repeated, i in an odd
voice.

His lids dropped again, and he sat there silent,
thoughtfully eying a “crack in the deck. Chester
watched him in a puzzled manner, but June’s face had —
suddenly flushed, and her eyes were sparkling.

“You don’t mean, Dick ” she began; and then |
stopped short, her perfectly shod foot beating a — ek
tattoo on the deck.

Merriwell glanced swiitly at her.

“T don’t know just what I mean,” he replied aes ee
“It was just an idea.” He paused, his forehead
wrinkling deeply. “He isn’t especially pebiter wee re
the masses, I suppose.” “eb:

‘No; but he holds the purse strings, and they’ ve e got ie
to live,” Chester answered. ete

tea) question of money, then,” Dick eabrrntieed. %
“T wonder ‘There must be men who would make —
a decent president, if they got the. chance—men a
some. semblance of honor, I mean.” ews

Arlington shrugged his sheuldere eta?

“T doubt it,’’ he returned pessimistically. “There
-are plenty who would jump at the chance, but what
they’d turn out to be, once they had the power, is very _
problematical. Ramon Alvares, secretary of state, —
‘seems a fair sort, and he’d like nothing more than
have a show at that office; but Ensenada has hir

“This- is. worse

 

 

  
    

     
    
  

  

   
  
      
      

  

s

 

 
 
   
        
  
     
   
    
    
  
    
   
  
   
 
  
 
       

he’s done with every other likely canuisate: He isn’t
running any chances, you know.”

He hesitated, and June bent forward eagerly.

“But what about Duranzo?” she asked quickly. “I
should say he was an even better sort, and you know
how popular he is with his soldiers.”

“His regiment only numbers. six hundred,’ her
brother objected. ‘Besides, he’s out of the running.
His son is betrothed to Dolores Ensenada, so there’s
nothing doing there.”’

“They’re not matried yet,
cantly.

There was a prolonged pause, which was broken by
Dick.

“T think I’ll drop in and see the president this after-
noon,” he announced abruptly. “I'd like to get a line
on him at first hand.”

Chester laughed.

“Tf you imagine you'll be admitted in that informal
way, you’re mistaken,” he averred. “The old fox
keeps himself. hedged in like the czar of Russia. You
have to apply beforehand for an audience Oh,
say! I forgot what you did this morning.’

“Yes, his daughter was so good as to urge me to call

on her father and allow: him to thank me,” Dick said.
_ “T’m not particularly keen about being thanked, but it’ll
be a good excuse.”
-June’s.face had suddenly grown serious, and the
sparkle died out of her eyes. ee

“You found her—very attractive, I suppose ?”
murmured, glancing across the harbor.

a “Very pleasant, indeed,” Merriwell answered ab-
 sently.

“And —beauti ful?”

“‘So-so, if you like the type.”’

June straightened up puddenly, and shat an indig-
nant glance at him.

_ “Why, Dick Merriwell!” she exclaimed.
loveliest girl I ever saw in all my life!”

Something in her tone roused Merriwell thoroughly,
and, as his eyes met hers, there was a twinkle in them

-~and something else.
| “When you get pene, look i in your a June,” he
Bie | chuckled. i

” the girl retorted sighifi-

 

she

“She's the

      
     
        
 
        
    
     
   
     
  
   
   

CHAPTER vi
THE MAN WHO NEVER WINKED.

Merriwell found that Chester had in no way over-
estimated the difficulty of an ordinary individual ob-

‘He reached the palace about five o’clock, having left
his friends at the Alcazar, and was stopped at the
- main entrance of the palace by two soldiers in uni-
ce hore! 3
He told them simply that he was att Aiteriden who
ct wished to see the president, and a wait of some min-
utes ensued while one of them departed for the lieu-
tenant of the guard. The latter presently appeared,
bored and unapproachable. He inquired Dick’s busi-
ness, and when the latter said he had none, that he was

   
  

 

 

 

Lae) TOR WERK ICY,

turned, five minutes later, however, his manner was

_ never seemed to wink. Dick noticed this peculiarity —
seen just such eyes once or twice before, and they —

_ curiously whether Ensenada was one of that caliber.

taining an interview with the president of Valdivia. — JOice a aoe ee
~ an obligation which it would take a lifetime to repay.”

ance listened .to with respect.

    

simply making a social call, the slim, dark fellow was
openly astonished.

“His excellency receives only on stated occasions,”
he explained indifferently. “It would be scarcely |
worth my while to take your card now. There is a .
reception to-morrow afternoon at three.”’

Dick smiled slightly, and took a bit of pasteboard
from his cardcase.

“T’m sorry to trouble you,” he said quietly,
think he will make an exception in my case.”

The officer shrugged his shoulders, and, requesting
Merriwell to remain in the entrance hall, departed,
murmuring under his breath in Spanish something
about the presumption of all Americans.’ When he re-

“but I

decidedly different.

“I beg ten thousand pardons, sefior!’’ he exclaimed
effusively. “I had no idea it was to you the whole
country owes so much, or I should never have kept you
waiting. His excellency will see you at once. Will
it please you to step this way?”

With lips smiling slightly, Dick followed him
through several passages, all beautifully proportioned
but rather gaudily decorated, past: huge saloons and
reception rooms, and paused before a mahogany door
on which his guide knocked importantly. It was
opened at once by a servant in livery, and Merriwell _
was ushered into a square, lofty room, which was evi-
dently a sort of study or library. There were three |
great windows, curtained in gorgeous yellow brocade,
while the. furniture was rosewood, carved and gilded,
and a number of enormous paintings in heavy gold
frames covered the walls.

There were several men standing about, gad, as
Dick’s name was announced, one of them took a single
step forward, and then stood erect, his hand out-
stretched, waiting for his guest to walk the. length
of the room to him.

He was a man of some fifty odd, tall and command-
ing, with plentiful gray hair, and eyes which at once
riveted the attention. They were black, of course,
and of an extraordinarily piercing quality, and they

 

   

   

 

 

 

 

kid ain nectideataiy set inane spas ah ,
Pepe peapreee ata epete ane aaeedinesiaateerameeoreergeretpemandmenetmerated

a pa Up
Sate ae

at once, and it gave him food for thought. He had

 

had belonged to men of the same type. He wondered _
“My dear friend!” the latter exclaimed, as Merri-

well reached him and took the outstretched hand, “I

am rejoiced to see you. .You have placed me under

His voice was low and smooth, and he spoke Eng- _
lish with almost no accent, in the deliberate, dignified |
tone of one accustomed to ‘having his smallest utter-
Dick felt that he was,
a man who took himself with a vast deal of serious- ee
ness, and his response was calculated to a nicety. Ne

“I was fortunate, your excellency,” he siared: |
“Sn the opportunity. of being of service to ia daugh- otk.
ter,” ae
2b OP

Ensenada bowed his approval of this diplomatic ut-
terance, and turned to the other men, who stood at a
~ little distance.

“T was engaged with two of my colleagues when
your name was announced,” he explained. “But I
could allow nothing to delay the expression of my
gratitude. May I have the honor of presenting to
‘you Sefor Duranzo, vice president of Valdivia, and
Sefior Mendez, secretary of the interior? Gentlemen,
Mr. Richard Merriwell, the savior of my daughter.”

Dick acknowledged the introduction gracefully, tak-
ing particular note of the appearance of the first-named
gentleman. He found him rather older than the presi-
dent, with a pleasant, though somewhat weak, face.
‘He was vehement in his appreciation of what Dick
had done, and_hoped the American would do him the
honor of paying a visit, that he ant show his grati-
tude further.

Mendez was likewise extremely courteous: yet Mer-
riwell suggested that-if they were busy he would with-

draw, and call on some other occasion.

“Not at all!” the president returned warmly. ‘We
had but just finished, and my friends were on the
point of departure. I cannot let you go so soon. Pray
be seated while I have a single word with Sefior
Duranzo.”’

So Merriwell took a chair and watched Ensenada
accompany the others slowly to the door, where he
stood talking for a moment before they departed and
he returned to his guest.

At once he renewed his expressions of Seat
to the man who had saved his daughter, and had not
Dick had some little experience with the Latin races
he would have soon wearied of the continual stream
of praise and flattery. When the president ended up
an eloquent period with an exclamation that if there
was ever anything he could do to repay the debt, he
would be only too thankful, the Yale man ‘straight-
ened up suddenly, with sparkling eyes.

“There happens to be something of that nature, your
excellency, at the present moment,” he said quietly.

_ Ensenada hesitated an instant, slightly taken aback,
but his facile tongue rarely failed him. .

“Tam rejoiced, my dear friend!” he exclaimed, with
every appearance of eager joy. “It seems too good
to be true that I can so soon repay you. Let me know
quickly in what manner I can be of service.’

“You can make me your debtor simply by confirm-

the concessions originally made to the Valdivia
Asphalt Company, of which my friend, Arlington, is
managing director,” Dick Bpprained, without hesita-
tion,

The president stared at him for a moment with his

-unblinking eyes, his face quite expressionless. »
“Sefior Arlington is your friend?” he asked politely.
Merriwell nodded.

kt have been intimate with his family for many
“They have sunk every penny |

years,’ ’ he explained.
_ they possess in this venture, and if you revoke the
; a Peseta im they will be beubared. Y

‘out their wishes.

WEEKLY. 9

The president uttered an exclamation of annoy- °
ance, and, rising swiftly, began to pace the floor, his
whole bearing one of acute grief.

“I am heartbroken,” he said at length, coming to a
stop beside Dick’s chair. “It seems the basest ingrati-
tude that I am powerless to grant you the first favor
you ask. But I assure you, sefior, that you have hit
upon the one thing I am forced to refuse. The mat-
ter is not in my hands. It is the people who have
spoken, and against their voice I am powerless. One
may be seemingly supreme, yet in reality be bound
hand and foot by the perfect trust of one’s people.
Moreover, I am somewhat to blame in that I allowed
another to make the investigations regarding the value
of these concessions, instead of doing it myself. My
trust was misplaced. One of my very cabinet played
the traitor.. He has been deprived of office, but the |
harm he did cannot.be so easily remedied. Sefior
Mendez, whom you met just now, is his successor. -
Had he made the investigations, all would have been
well. Sefior, I am desolated, but I have pledged my
word to my people to secure for them a fair return
from their property. Ask me anything else, even to
half my small fortune, and I will grant it gladly;
but this I cannot do.”

It would be impossible to describe the eloquence
and truthful ring of that throbbing voice. One who
knew nothing of the man could scarcely have ques-
tioned his absolute sincerity. Yet Dick knew that it

was all a sham. ‘The man was a bluff through and

through, and his protestations were merely empty
words. ’

Merriwell’s face showed nothing of what was pass-
ing in his mind, and when the president finished
speaking, he made no attempt to argue the matter.
It would do no good, he clearly saw, and he had rea-
sons for wishing to remain for the present on good
terms with Ensenada.

“T am sorry,” he said simply.

ok a perhaps you —
might have the power to do this muc

“Would that I had!” the president ‘eldoabind: an
am here by the will of the people, and must carry

Surely you see that it.is not from _
lack of inclination, my dear friend, that I am forced
to refuse. Ah, my dear Dolores, you are just in
time.”’ 3 |

In spite of himself, a faint ring of relief sounded in — °

his voice as he turned to his daughter, who had just

entered the room by another door, which showed how aa

welcome the interruption was.

The girl had hesitated when she saw that her fa- a
ther was engaged, but, recognizing Merriwell, ‘she a

came quickly forward, with Bai Ees hand.

“T am very glad you came,” she said softly, her face

faintly pink. “You are not suffering from the shock— ee
or your wound?” eee
‘As he took her hand, Dick laughed sia:
“My dear sefiorita, I am all right,” he said. eee
gone through much worse times than that on the
football field at home, and the wound is a mere scratch.”

 
 

10 TIP” TOP

My principal suffering this’ morning was from
wounded vanity that you should see me in such a
mess. I looked like a perfect tramp.”

‘You did no such thing,” she retorted warmly. “1
should wish you to have looked no differently. I shall
never forget your face as you sprang out before the
horses. It was but a glimpse, but there are moments
when one sees mich in a little time—and I had al-
most lost hope.”

Her voice faltered a little at the recollection, but the
next instant she smiled brightly.

“That is happily over,’’ she went on.

- with us to-night, will you not?”
“I’m dreadfully sorry,” Dick protested, “but I have
an engagement at the Alcazar. Any other evening
I »?

*Vou will dine

 

To-morrow, then,” the girl said, showing her dis-
_ ‘appointment a trifle.
the garden and I will give you a cup of tea.”

This Dick could not refuse, nor did he wish to.
Making his adieus to the president, who had some
‘papers to look over, he followed the girl through a
passage and down some steps into a walled-in) gar-
den, exquisitely laid out with palms and shrubs and

_ luxuriant tropical flowers, among whichymarble statues

splashed.

Close beside it, under a gayly striped awning, was
a tea table fully equipped and set about with com-
 fortable wicker chairs. They settled themselves in two
_ chairs, very close together, and at the end of the suc-
| ceeding half hour Dick reached the conclusion that
Dolores Ensenada had a fascination rarely. equaled.
| Perhaps it was just as well for him, he thought, that
ae ane affections were already engaged elsewhere.
_ When at length he arose to go, she strolled with
him across the garden, to show him a private gate in
the wall through which he could reach the street with-
out returning to the palace:
Beside the gate, growing close to ies wall, was a
high covered with beautiful scarlet hibiscus Aowets.
Reaching up, she broke off one and bent close to him
to place it in his coat.
_ “A decoration for bravery,”
gers busy poking the stem into the buttonhole.
Their faces were close together, and their attitude

  

  

and then, with a word about to-morrow night, he

  

vbehitid him.
i Both of them had failed to see, in a Se hdcies of the

| oe CHAPTER VI.
ee PLAN ‘UNTOLD.

 

 
 
 

ho : IO

“At least, you must come into”

gleamed here and there, while i in the center a fountain

she smiled, her fin-

: of decided intimacy. Dick laughed, and thanked '
eparted through the gate, leaving her to lock it again

ce, looking out upon the garden, the face of. Eu-

ge 1 sain dae saad black et rage and sas er < rather eee before T act?” he asked, —

- “eyes, | ie

And weal aa not ae me bottom: - Mersiwvell case I'm afraid—you might think-siQ0; mu

and not enough of abies PARRA BT ear tate

  
  
 
  
 
   
    
  
    
   
   
   
      
     
   
   
       
     
          
        
    

WEEKLY.

forty feet down without striking anything but’ solid
asphalt, and there are several other openings of more
than half that depth that show the same conditions.
It’s the richest deposit I ever heard of except, per- —
haps, the famous one on the island of Trinidad.”

Dick’s eyes wandered interestedly over the curious |
scene before them. ‘They were standing on the edge
of a craterlike depression which formed the bed of a
most extraordinary lake. From a distance, perhaps,
it might have looked like water, but it was nothing ~
more or less than solid asphalt, smooth, hard, and lus-
trous, and the effect of that flat, dark expanse, motion-
less, save where here and there a narrow stream of real
water trickled through the pitchy mass, was almost
uncanny.

All about the depression, which must have covered
over a hundred acres, the thick, tangled jungle made
a ring of dark, luxuriant green, above which towered
bare, jagged mountain peaks.

The lake itself was a humming hive of activity. Men
were everywhere on its surface, laboring methodically
to take out the asphalt, which was conveyed by hand
to a string of flat cars attached to a dummy engine,
presently to be carried through the forest and down
the mountainside to the company’s storehouse on the .
harbor. ,

“Tt doesn’t surprise me that Ensenada wants to grab
this for himself,’ Dick said at length. ‘There must
be millions upon millions of tons here,” )

“There is,” Chester returned gloomily; “and if we
only had a fair show we’d make millions of dollars a0
the stockholders.” un

“Hum!” Dick diol thoughtfully, “Do you aa
suppose, Chet, your company would be willing to telm-
‘burse any reasonable sum spent in placing at the head —
of this government some one who would ratify the |
old concessions ?”’ aut

“I’m sure they would!” Arlington said eagerly. i
“What's in your mind, Dicer ‘You ve got some pe
T know.”

‘Merriwell smiled, and shrugged his shoulders. | er

“T don’t think I'll tell you,” he said good-humoredly. _ |
“At present it’s only a plan, and, in case it didn’t pan
out all right, it will be just as well for you to know
nothing whatever aoe it. There’s ae a sig, a an
know.” a

“Please don’t do. ronvaiia rash, ‘Dicks tf: aa sa
hastily. “It would be much ‘better to let ee Boe
than for you to throw good money after bad.”

‘Dick looked at her for a moment without speaking,

-“Haven’t-you found that I usually consider eee

 
   
       
     
     
       
      
 
      
       
   
     
   
    
        
   
     
     
     
    
 

 

“Tenally—yes,” im answered eae ive :

    
    

  

 
 

~ pon WONEy (9) _ Th give you my:

   
‘real devils.

cP TOP

unless the chances for success are more than even
I'll keep out. How many men have you here, Chet?”

“Twelve hundred.”

“Good sort, are they?

“IT pay their wages regularly,”
grimly.

“But would they fight for you?”

Chester shrugged his shoulders.

“IT don’t know. They might if they knew it was
that or working for Ensenada. Most of them have
served in the army at one time or another, but men
can’t fight with picks and shovels and crowbars, you
know.”

“No arms, eh?”

“Knives, that’s all. His excellency, the president,
sees to it that the common people aren’t allowed to own
rifles.”’

a BER.

There was silence for a oe moments as Dick stared
out across the asphalt lake with unseeing eyes. Finally
he straightened his shoulders and turned to his two
friends.

“That train of yours will be going down pretty
soon, Chet,”’ he said: quietly, ‘‘and' I think I'll go with
it. At the president’s dinner last night, Senor Du-

Attached to you?”
Arlington answered

{

ranzo asked me again to call on him, and I believe I'll
pay the visit this afternoon.”

June’s face was anxious as she placed one hand
lightly on his arm.
“You'll let us know as soon oF, can, Dick?” she

asked. ‘And, please do not get int#any danger.”

| Merriwell laughed lightly.

‘Danger!’ he chuckled. “My dear, you take the
government of Valdivia too seriously. Can’t you trust
me to take care of myself with that crowd down at
Santador? Why, with a single company of regulars
from home to back me, I believe I could make myself
president, if I had any aspirations for that office. I
haven’t seen a real man yet in the whole blooming
crowd. ‘They'd run from their own shadows, if they
saw them unexpectedly on a moonlight night.”

“But I’m sure Ensenada isn’t a coward,” the girl
_ protested.
you through and through, and he never winks.”
_ Dick bent closer to the girl, his eyes twinkling.
| “Precisely,” he retorted, in a low tone. . “My dear
June, did you ever happen to meet a man before who
never seemed to wink.”

Puzzled, she shook her head.

“T don’t think 80, ”’ she answered, |

“Well, I have,” Merriwell returned significantly,

“and they were the most colossal bluffs you could pos-

_ sibly conceive. There wasn’t a particle of real grit

in their make-up, yet that baleful, piercing stare worked

to perfection, and gave every one the idea they were
I rather think this Ensenada is in the
same class, and I mean to find out. Don’t worry,
_ I shan’t be in a bit of danger. Wonder whether Brad
- is coming down with me?” |

“He’s got perfectly dreadful eyes, that look

WEERLY.

CHAPTER .VII.
MERRIWELL TURNS CONSPIRATOR.

“I am rejoiced that you have found time to call so
soon, sefior,” the vice president said, with stately cordi-
ality, after the ceremonious greeting was over and
they had seated themselves near one of the lofty win-
dows of the saloon.

“Tt is I who am fortunate in finding you at leisure,”
Merriwell said. “I am a mere idle tourist, while you
must be a very busy man, with all the responsibilities
of your office.

Duranzo sighed importantly.

“You have said it, sefior,” he returned. “The re-
sponsibilities are indeed heavy. But for the satisfac-
tion of serving the people to the best of my ability,
I should long ago have retired to private life.”

* “Retire, in your very prime!’ Merriwell exclaimed
incredulously. ‘““That would be absurd, sefior. You
are capable of far better things. You have the ability,
I should say, of satisfactorily shouldering even greater
responsibilities than you do.”

Duranzo gave a slight start, and shot a quick, almost
fearful, glance at his caller.

“IT do not quite—understand you, sefior,’
slowly.

4 here i is but one higher office in the country than
yours,” Dick returned quietly. ;

“Which is more than adequately filled at present,
praise to the saints!’’-the older man said fervently.
“Our beloved president is the idol of the people, and
in—er—per fect health, I am rejoiced to say. The
question of his successor is likely to be delayed until
long after I am laid away.”

A faint smile curved the corners of Dick’s mouth.

‘Are you quite sure you mean all that, sefior?’’ he
murmured.

Duranzo drew himself up, offended.

“The sefior is pleased to jest,” he said stiffly.

“Not at all,’ Dick answered quietly. “I was never
more in earnest. I was wondering whether, down in
your heart, you really believe the president to be so
popular with the masses; whether you would really
shrink from the responsibilities of that office if a fa-
‘vorable opportunity. arose for you to grasp

“Hush!” gasped Duranzo. He darted a frightened
glance around the great room, his face suddenly bereft
of every particle of color. “Such words are mad-
ness!) You have no idea how dangerous they are.” _

Merriwell folded his arms loosely atross his chest.
_ “T have weighed them carefully,” he said quietly.
“There is no chance of our being overheard?”

* he said

Dufanzo’s fine hands trembled as he raised them - ie

a slight gesture of entreaty.

“No one can say,” he whispered. ‘
everywhere. I beg of you, sefior, to desist. A hint of —
such talk reaching the president’s ears would ruin me.
I may have had hopes and aspirations in earlier day S
as who has not? But they are worse than f nites and T=
have long ceased to harbor them.” A

 

“There are spies © |
12 TIP TOP WEEKLY.

Merriwell drew his chair close to the older man’s
side, and bent forward slightly. Huis face was serious
and his manner. cool and deliberate.

“Why futile?’ he asked, in a low tone.

“Ensenada has control of everything,” Duranzo said
fearfully. ‘‘The army is with him, and, lacking its
support— -” He made.a quick gesture of finality
with both hands. “But I cannot discuss the matter
further, sefior, even with you. It is treason to talk
thus, even in jest.”

“T told you I am not jesting,”’ Merriwell said de-
cisively. “The president is not popular with the army.
He controls it simply because he holds the purse strings
and keeps the men continually expecting their back pay,
but never getting it in full. You are much better liked
by the soldiers.and people generally than Ensenada.
Don’t you suppose they know how the country is run
and how this one man is waxing rich. through his
wholesale pilferings of what should rightfully be
theirs? Don’t you know that ‘they hate him for the
tyrant\ he is, and that, with the slightest encourage-

ment, they would rise and throw him out, neck and

crop? Of course you do; you are a man of sense.
They want a leader and financial backing. With those
two things, you could be president in a fortnight, if
you said the word.”

_ Duranzo slowly recovered from his panic., The
- realization that they sat too far from the doors to be
_ overheard comforted him, and there was something

about the American’s voice and manner which began

to fan into life the spark of hope he thought had
died.
Gradually the color came back into his face, and

his hands ceased to tremble, and, when Dick ‘had fin-
he sat looking. at him in silence:

ished speaking,
through keen, clever, appraising eyes.

“You ‘speak well, sefior,” he said at length,
there is some truth in what you say.

“and
Did I possess
a money backing, there is no telling what might be
effected, provided always that I had the inclination,

-to—er—alter the personnel of the existing govern-

ment. I still maintain, however, that your arguments

are futile, for where would such backing come from.”

| “How much would be necessary?” Dick asked
briefly.
The vice president shrugged his shoulders.

_ “Impossible to estimate,” he answered. “Always
provided that we are in earnest, there would be arms
and supplies to buy, soldiers to be won over, powerful.
individuals to be bribed. It would take a vast sum
—several millions, probably.”

-“Supposing’ such a sum was ie lieacin a” Ww ould.

you throw yourself, heart and soul, into the affair?”

Duranzo hesitated for a long time, his eyes search-’

ng thé handsome face of the young man before him
‘a passionate intensity. as if he were trying to

plumb. the depths of his very soul. At length he sighed

gently” Fo id touched ae forehead. Re with a pane
pit

“Over even more,

us or not.

said quickly, ‘

of caution on my part, [ can assure you,

_ instantly.

eT)

alow tone. “But somehow you have a face which one
trusts instinctively. You have asked me a simple,
straightforward question, and [ will be equally frank
with you. Provided a revolution was financed with
the object of placing me in office, I should strain every
nerve, exert every atom of influence I possess, leave
no stone unturned to insure its success,”

Dick breathed a faint sigh of relief.
no question of the man’s sincerity.

“In that case I shall be happy to furnish the sinews
of war,” he said calmly.

Duranzo stared at him incredulously.

“You?” he gasped.

Merriwell nodded.

“Exactly. I happen to be the possessor of a large
fortune, which I am willing to devote to the purpose
of ousting Ensenada and placing an honorable man in —
his stead.”’

“But why?’ exclaimed Duranzo bewilderingly.
“What interest have you in Valdivia which would
make you take so great a risk ?”’

“Mr. Arlington is one of my dearest friends,” Dick
explained. . “Every cent he possesses is invested in the
asphalt company, and if Ensenada repudiates their
concessions, he and his family will be ruined. There
is little risk, however. If we succeed, my outlay is
almost sure to be paid back by the stockholders of
the company, And I canes see why we should not
succeed, There are twelve hundred laborers at the
asphalt lake. Properly armed, they would make a
splendid nucleus for’ a rebel army.: You can almost
surely control your regiment, which will give us a
fighting force of nearly two thousand. We may win

There was

a desire for victory, which our opponents cannot pos-
sibly have. They will have everything to gain and —
nothing to lose, and they ought to put up a good fight. _

“Not a hint of this should escape until those men ~_
are armed and ready to take the field. We would thus
have the advantage of a complete surprise, and that
counts for a great deal. While this is being done,
you could proceed cautiously to sound various men of
importance and find out whether they would join
Some would probably have to be bribed, —
while others might come from motives of self-in- —
terest, or hate of Ensenada. You would do that work

with such care that no hint of what is on foot could

reach the president’s ears, and then, when all is ready,
we should be able to descend on the city with the ef-
fect of a thunderbolt. I do not think it will be at all,
difficult, senor.’

~Duranzo gazed at him in @athowtasie wtiianan.

“TY Ou. are . a wonderful man, Sefior Merriwell,” he
‘and I believe you are right. With care,
such a plot ought to succeed, and there will be no Tea
But. the
arms? How can those be got into the oun with-_

out attracting notice?”

“On the asphalt company’ $s aay Dick tetas
eaten can be landed" at ae ane alee

 

And they will be men animated by
Wie ere

directly to the camp in the mountains. Of course, we
should secure them first, before saying a word to the
men up there. That would be the last step of all,
for, among so many, there is quite likely to be a traitor
or two. My friend, however, being with them so
constantly, can form a fairly accurate idea as to which
ones would be likely to join us, and which would be
doubtful. If you think favorably of the idea, I will
set about at once to secure the arms and whatever else
-may be necessary. What do you say, Sefior Duranzo?
Will you risk a little to be president of Valdivia, or
are you content to remain a mere pawn in the great
game of life to the end of your days?”

As the slightly grandiloquent words passed his lips,
Dick had a sudden mirthful thought of how Buckhart
and Arlington, to say nothing of the languid Winslow,
would howl if they could see and hear him now. He
knew his man, however, and realized how much more
Duranzo would be impressed by such florid periods
than by the short, brusque utterances which usually
pass between men of action. [vents proved the ac-
curacy of his judgment. .

Duranzo straightened in the carved and gilded chair,
his chest thrown out and his eyes flashing.

“IT am with you, sefior!” he exclaimed, in a passion-
ate whisper. ‘‘Never shall it be said that Ramon
Duranzo hesitated for the fraction of a second in
coming to the aid of his distressed, downtrodden coun-
try. ‘From this moment, my sole object in life will be
the overthrow of this tyrant and to establish a goy-
ernment, clean, pure, and undefiled.”

Dick’s face was carefully serious, but his aan
were frivolous to a degree.

“A Jot you care about the downtrodden ebitace.”
he ae amusedly. “You'll make your little pile
‘on the side, like all the rest. Might as well expect the

sun to go from west to east as hope to stop graft in a

South ‘American republic. I don’t believe you'll be
quite so hoggish as Ensenada, though, aoe that’ s all we

can hope for.’

Aloud he said seriously:

“Between men of honor conditions are unnecessary.
I shall look to you, of course, when you are established
__ in office, to see that absolute justice is done the asphalt
company, and that their concessions remain in «the
i present form.”
-Duranzo bowed impressiv aly
“That shall be my first thought, Sefior (etiaren ell,”

_ he said instantly. “Rest assured the company will al-

ways be the object of my care and solicitude. Who

- knows but that we may be able to hed even more.

if, favorable terms ?”’ |
For an hour longer they talked, dissrcite every

possible phase of the matter and laying their ‘plans with

care and consideration, Dick very soon saw that he
could safely trust his companion with the diplomatic
side of the affair. Duranzo was a born intriguer
who would succeed in his mission of winning over
certain powerful interests a By fair means or foul, if
ay one AN,

WEEKLY. 13

His manner had grown important almost to pom-
pousness, and Dick guessed that he was already pictur-
ing himself at the head of the Valdivian government.
When they finally parted and Merriwell left the house,
he was smiling to himself,

“Thank Heaven! I’ve got a serise of humor,” he
chuckled, as he strode across the plaza. ‘What an
awful thing it would be to take oneself as seriously
as these féllows do with their little tupenny, ha’-
penny country! Why, the whole outfit could be mis-
laid altogether in the State of Texas.”

CHAPTER VIII.
THE POWER OF JEALOUSY.

fter the departure of his caller, Ramon Duranzo
returned to the saloon and seated himself once more in
the high-backed, carved chair. His eyes were bright
and the color still glowed in his sallow face with its
network of tiny w rinkles. For a long time he sat
silent, his eyes fixed absently on the strip of garden
visible through one of the great windows. Then he
gave a deep sigh, and raised his head proudly.

“President of Valdivia!’ he said aloud, in a tone
of indescribable satisfaction. “It is well. I have been
patient a long time, and at last my reward has come.
Miguel Ensenada has met his match at last. What a_
man! What an "

The words died in his throat with a choking gurgle,
and for an instant he seemed stricken to stone as ‘the
heavy brocade curtains hanging before one of the long
windows, looking out upon the street were thrust vio*
lently aside and a quick step sounded on the polished
floor. A

His face had turned a Peak. ghastly white, and he |
seemed suddenly old and shrunken. Then, as with a
mighty effort, he slowly turned his head until his _
frightened eyes rested on the face of the unknown
eav vesdropper. .

The reaction was so great that the blood rushed |
back into his face in a crimson flood, and for a moment
he could not speak.

“Eugenio!” he gasped, in a tone of infinite thank: i 43
How long have you bese Eee

fulness.
there?”
The younger man, his sallow face alive With curi-
osity, came swiftly forward,
“But a few minutes,” he answered shortly.

ae et oa

can.”

The hatred in his voice seemed lost upon bi ‘chee ;
who was rapidly regaining control of himself. - He had

“not meant to let his son into the secret, but since the —

young fellow had stumbled upon it, it did not matter _
greatly. Besides, Eugenio could doubtless be of some
little service in the matter. *

“How much did you hear?” he asked quietly. :
“Enough to know that there is a plot on foot, # th
son answered dubiously. “Are you mad, father, to
conspire Ree Ensenada at aap a time as oat, ne

 

“Twas _ ; te
watching the departure of your friend, Ric Ameti- eid
TH Vie SOE

Duranzo drew himself up proudly.

‘And why not?’ he asked sternly. “Have you no
wish to see your father holding the highest office in the
land? Can you not understand what it would mean
to us all to overthrow the tyrant and bring a decent
government at last to Valdivia?”

He was still under the spell of Merriwell’s argu-
ments, but Eugenio, knowing nothing of the circum-
stances, looked at him aghast.

“But it is impossible to succeed!’’ he exclaimed fear-
fully. ‘You will be ruined—we will all perish! En-
senada is too powerful. Without money, how can
you hope

“Ah!” interrupted his father triumphantly. “But
we have the money. Senior Merriwell has promised
us unlimited backing, and he is the possessor of many
millions.”’

Eugenio’s jaw dropped.

“Merriwell ’ he exclaimed,
why

“He is a friend of Senor Arlington, of the asphalt

company,” Duranzo explained, “who will be ruined
if Ensenada revokes the concessions. Chivalrously,
Sefior Merriwell comes to his aid with the backing of
his immense fortune. He has approached me as the
most likely candidate for the office and a man of
honor who would strictly observe .he terms originally
made with the company. It is all planned. Arms
will be bought for the laborers at the asphalt lake, and,
at the appointed time, my regiment will join them.
I shall endeavor to win over important officials to our
side, and one fine morning Miguel Ensenada will
awake to the thunder of our army in the streets of
Santador. It is a glorious opportunity, such as comes
but once in a lifetime, and it cannot possibly fail.”

Eugenio listened to his father’s florid periods with

an expression which showed that he was very far

_ from being as enthusiastic as the older man.

“But what of me?” he asked sulkily.

_ “What of you?’ Duranzo repeated, in amazement.

~“Ts.it not enough that you will be the son of the presi-

dent of Valdivia? Are you not satisfied with that?

I shall have the power to grant you anything—any

office. There will, no doubt, e—er—perquisites which
will make us independent of fortune. What more can

in amazement. “But

you ask?”

The younger man moved his shoulders uneasily.
_ “Dolores,” he replied shortly. “She will never
marry the son of one who has overthrown her fa-

: i ther. ef } / \

_ Duranzo fected
“She should be only too thankful, if that son still
wishes to wed her,” he retorted severely. “For they
will be beggared and exiled. But even should she
_ prove a fool, what is that to you? There are plenty
of others, equally beautiful and fascinating, who world
be only too complaisant.””
“But I want no other,” Eugenio began.
‘His father cut him short by an imperative gesture.
ee Enema he said eS, rising from, the chair.

WEEKLY.

“A trivial matter such as this can have no bearing
on affairs of state. Not a whisper of what I have
told you to any one, Eugenio. You may be of service
later on, but until I give the word you must be dumb.
Remember that.”

The younger man opened his lips, as if he meant
to retort, but closed them swiftly again, and turned
away, withascowl. Ashe left the saloon, and crossed
the entrance hall to the great stairway, his face was
black with anger.

“Tt will be the end!” he muttered, through his
clenched teeth. ‘‘She has too much pride ever to look
upon me again should this plot succeed. It is all the
work of that cursed American! Why did the dog
ever come here? She has been cold to me from the
moment of their meeting, and if I could be sure she
loved him I would kill him—kill him as I would a
snake!”

CHAPTER IX.
BETRAYED.

During the stately, tedious dinner, at which they
chanced, unwontedly, to sit down alone, the elder
Duranzo was pleased to observe that his son seemed
in far better spirits than he had been an hour before.

An hour later Eugenio ascended the broad steps
of the president’s palace. The soldiers passed him in —
without question, and in the great hall he nodded to .
the lieutenant of the guard, who happened to be an
acquaintance.

“Shall I announce ‘you to the sefiorita?’”’ the latter
asked. “She has but just risen from dinner.”

“Not at once, Huertes. Is his excellency at lei-
sure 22’

The lieutenant looked doubtful. \

“There were guests at dinner,” he explained.
are even now taking coffee on the terrace.
you wish fi

Duranzo nodded.

‘Send word to his excellency that I should like to see
him alone for a moment on a matter of importance,”
he said. “I will go directly to his study and await.
him there. It would be well if the message reached
his ears alone. You understand?”

“Perfectly.” |

Huertes departed at once on his-errand, while Du- |
ranzo made his way directly to the president’s private
study. He did not sit down, but paced nervously up
and down the long room. Now that the die was cast,
he seemed for the first time to realize the seriousness

“They
Still, if

of the step he was about to‘take, and when the door — Ys

opened, about ten minutes later, and Ensenada en-
tered, his face was pale and his eyes were anxious. |

“Well, Eugenio?” the president questioned impa-
tiently, his piercing eyes fixed intently on the young —
man’s face. “I have left my guests at your behest.
I trust your errand j is of aeeny importance to oe y
such a summons.”

Deranao did not hesitate,

He was cocoate now, eh

ee.

 
TIP TOP

and forthwith he plunged into the matter at hand with
the skill of.an accomplished actor.

“Tt is, your excellency,” he returned hastily, and in
an agitated voice, “My father ordered me to waste not

an instant in bringing you news of the plot which is

hatching against you.’

Ensenada’s eyes glittered, and he took a quick step
forward.

“Plot?” he rasped.

“Yes,” went on Eugenio, speaking rapidly. “There
is a conspiracy afoot to deprive you of office, seize
your property, and send you into ‘exile, The plan is
to arm the laborers at the asphalt lake, win over cer-
tain. men in power, and attack Santador.”

The president’s face turned a shade less brown,
-and a single exclamation burst from his lips:

iA h! \”?

He stepped quickly to Duranzo’s side, every sense
alert.

“Is it so?” he questioned swiftly.
traitor? Tell me of it quickly.”

“An American is at the bottom of it,” Eugenio ex-
plained. “It is this Merriwell, who lately arrived on
the yacht of a friend. He is interested in the asphalt
company, and wishes a new government that there may
L. no interference in the cursed way these foreigners
are:robbing the republic. He came to my father this
afternoon—why, I do not know. He broached his
infamous scheme and offered an immense bribe if my

father would join him and exert his influence in his
behalf.” ae

He hesitated an instant, and Ensenada eyed him
keenly.

“And Duranzo?” he questioned, in a hard voice.
_ “Listened to it all,” Eugenio explained glibly, “pre-
tending to fall in with the scheme, that he might learn
every detail. He dared not come to you himself, for
‘fear the dirty foreigner might suspect, and escape;

but the instant I came in he told me all, and ordered
_ me to seek you without a second’s delay.”
Ensenada continued to stare at him unwinkingly.
“There is no doubt of this?” he asked thoughtfully.
i é “Not a question. My father will repeat it to you
just as I have told it.”
| ‘The president straightened to his full height, a look
i of righteous indignation on his face.
“Infamous!” he exclaimed, clenching his fists. “And
‘this is the man to. whom I promised my friendship,
who sat at my table not NON. hours ago and
ate my bread!”
_.. He strode across the room and pressed an electric
“bell furiously. |

“Who is the

“Tell Lieutenant ‘Huertes I wish his presence in- ,

‘stantly,” he said to the servant who came running.
“When he turned back to Duranzo, hig. emotion had
quieted somewhat. :

‘It is, perhaps, no more than one wh: site foe ee
ae of his country should expect,” ” he, said, dramat-

ally., ‘Happily, Eugenio, the saints are with us. It

fortunate i ides that he pe, eeu father 3

WEEKLY.

voice,

15

instead of one or two others I have in mind. I trust
Duranzo as | would my own daughter, and that trust
has not been misplaced.”

He fixed his unblinking stare on the young man be-
fore him, and continued slowly:

“This Merriwell can have no suspicion that his
treachery is known to us. His capture will be sim-
ple, and, once behind prison walls, not even the med-
dling interference of his country will save him from
his just deserts. Ah, Huertes! Enter, and close the
door.”

As the lieutenant obeyed, Ensenada turned again >
to Duranzo.

“Where is this traitor to be found, Eugenio?’

Duranzo shook his head. :

“T am not certain,” he returned doubtfully. “He
and his companions dine usually at the Alcazar, and
often they sit about afterward listening’to the music.
They scarcely ever take dinner on the yacht.” gen

“Good!” said the president. “Huertes, order out
a troop of cavalry, and surround the Alcazar. You
know this American, Sefior Merriwell, by sight?”

“He is the hero who saved your daughter, your ex-
cellency?” the lieutenant asked.

Ensenada flushed slightly, and gave a cough.

‘He is no hero, but a traitor!” he returned severely,
the next moment. ‘You are to arrest him instantly -
and convey him to the prison. Arrest also his two
companions, one of them the owner of the yacht. If
they are not to be found at the Alcazar, ascertain his
whereabouts, and carry out my commands.” .

‘What if he should be on board the boat, your ex- ie z

cellency ! ?” the lieutenant inquired.

“Tt is not likely,” Ensenada replied; “but I ‘aanele ee

will telephone to Commander Rios, of our gunboat,
and order him to seize the yacht at once.

caping from the country in that manner.
stand my wishes‘ e”
Huertes bowed. Beeps
eW ell, carry them out faithfully, and PAGE: ie
delay.” maa?
When the officer had departed, the president funnies ;
to Eugenio, a look of satisfaction on his face. ag
“Thus we deal with traitors and conspirators,’ « he
commented dramatically. 3
He hesitated an instant, his black ree. boring into
the younger man’s face.
“By the way, Eugenio,” he remarked, ina purring
“Who was to be my successor ?” ;
Duranzo, having been ready for this question for

You under-

-gome time, ‘did not falter.

“T do not know, your excellency,” he anna stead

ily. “My father was in such tnasye that. Ss che

did not give me all the details.”

“Ah! Perhaps not. I am interested in them
mensely, and should be glad to talk over the ma
with your father ome: Are you Feneroing dir etly
home ?”.

‘ - Duranzo nodded hastily.

 

If they i“ 4
are not on board, that will effectually prevent their es- _
16 Sib canoe.
“Then ask him to be so good as to come to me at
once,” Ensenada requested. ‘‘At times like this every
friend of the republic should rally to its support.”

CHAPTER X.
THE HEART OF A GIRL.

The president’s dinner party that night was com-
posed mainly of men. It was his custom to invite
to his table members of the government or political
friends with whom he wished to consult on certain
matters, and on such occasions the presence of ladies
would be only an embarrassment. Consequently only

his sister, Senora Vallambrosa, who managed his

household, and his daughter, Dolores, were present.
Both left the table as soon as the dessert had been re-
moyed, and retired to the sefiora’s private apartments
for their coffee. ;

Here they sat for a short time in silence. The
senora, short, stout, and dumpy, but glittering with
_ diamonds, occupied herself with an embroidery frame,
_ while Dolores picked up a book and_ glanced idly
through it, only to put it down again, with a yawn.

_ At length she arose, threw a heavy silk scarf around
her shoulders, and strolled out through the open win-
dow to the stone terrace overlooking the dewy, fra-
grant garden. She was unusually restless this even-
ing, and not a little bored. As she slowly paced the
terrace, trailing recklessly behind her the swishing
skirts of her Parisian gown, the talk and laughter
of the guests having their coffee outside the dining
room came faintly to her ears, and made her think
‘regretfully of that very different dinner the night be-
fore, at which Dick Merriwell had been the principal
guest. ;

She started, as from the open window close at hand
came the voice of her betrothed. She recognized it
perfectly, and, with a frown of annoyance that he
should have arrived so soon, had already turned to

hasten to her rooms, when a single word stopped he the men,

_ like an electric’shock. |
It was the name of the man who had been in her

4 mind all evening—Dick Merriwell! |

“For an instant the girl stood there as if turned to
stone. Then, slowly and with infinite care, she moved
_ noiselessly toward the window. She gave no thought
to the fact that’she was eavesdropping. She would

. have done far worse things than that, for in the brief

interval of waiting she had sensed enough to realize

that something was going on in the room which threat-

ened peril to the American. 3
_ And, as she stood there motionless, straining every
sense to catch the words which came faintly through

Bye the heavy brocade curtains, her face expressed a little

. of the turmoil which filled her soul. - 7
_. Fear, anger, incredulity flitted across it in swift suc-

cession.. Her eyes blazed when she realized of what.

Eugenio was accusing the man she cared for. That
Merriwell could be at the head of such a plot against
her father, she did not credit; but, even though it were

W Si

WEEKLY.

true, she. did not care. She was far from blind to
the manner in which the government of Valdivia was
being administered, and she had long been sick—sick
to death of the dishonor and corruption which sur-
rounded her.

It was the realization that Eugenio was playing “‘ie
traitor which filled her with fury. She sensed his mo-
tive instantly, and into her mind leaped the determina-
tion that nothing under heavet would induce her to
marry such a contemptible craven. |

Then every other thought and consideration left her
save the fact that Merriwell was in peril: She knew
her father only too well to expect anything from him
but the worst. The American would be seized, tried,
condemned, and executed before the news of his pre-
dicament could so much as reach Washington. Once
he was caught, there would be absolutely no hope.

He must be warned. That was his only possible
chance. With every nerve tingling and her whole
being consumed with a frantic desire to do some-
thing, she forced herself to wait until the end of the
conference. She must find out everything they meant
to do—learn all their plans; and so she stood there
until Lieutenant Huertes had taken his departure.
Then she turned and almost ran toward the walk which ©
led toward the stables. |

Halfway there she stopped still, with a short, sharp,
smothered exclamation. In a game where the odds
were almost overwhelmingly against her, she held one
powerful trump. She happened to know that Dick
was not dining that night at the Alcazar, but at Los

Bocas, a popular resort some six miles north of the ©

city, and not far from the shore. She had told him.
of it the night before when he asked about places of
interest in the neighborhood, and he announced his in-
tention then of trying it on the succeeding evening. \,
Her first impulse had been to dispatch a groom
thither at once with a note of warning. Now, how-
ever, she remembered that she could trust none of ~
They were all picked for their devotion to
Ensenada, and it was a hundred chances to one that
the note would be delivered to her father instead of its
proper destination. .
For a second she stood frowning. ‘Then she threw
up her head with a determined gesture.
“T shall go myself,” she murmured.
way.” Sn ae : pe
Without a second’s delay, she entered the palace
and hastened up a narrow flight of stairs to the floor
above. Reaching her boudoir, she flung the silk scarf
onachair, pee
“Teresa!” she called sharply. “Teresa!”
. Instantly her maid, a.plain, pleasant-faced woman

“Tt is the only

of about thirty, hurried in from the bedroom, and |
stopped in astonishment at the sight of her mistress’ —

flushed face and eyes sparkling with excitement.
“Listen, Teresa!” the girl said rapidly.
the quarters of Lieutenant Huertes? Go instantly and
bring me his spare uniform, a long cloak, and wide
felt ‘hat. Lose not a second.” Cg h Meh a ee

“You know

es

I

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 
 

 
 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

   

 

 

 

  
 

    

   

 

   

 

 

  

 

 

   
  

 

a are too pease for a man.”

 

into action.

. and there may be time.

revolver.

is a stir downstairs.
and I was almost caught.”

‘woman.

would betray me.
_ Good! My hair does not show? Will Tlook the part,

BU Se

The woman stared at her in petrified amazement.

“But senorita ” she gasped.

The girl stamped her foot. Already she was busy
unfastening her gown.

“It is a matter of life and death,” she exclaimed.
“He will not be there; he is on duty. For the love
of Heaven, Teresa, do as IJ tell you, and do it quickly!”

Something in her voice seemed to galvanize the maid

 

out of the door, closing it carefully after her. Dolores
stood still for a second and then flew to the desk.

“The captain of the yacht must be warned, too,” she
murmured, seizing pen and paper. “Rios will be slow,
But who—— Ah! Teresa’s
brother. He shall go in his motor boat!”

Hurriedly she dashed off a few lines telling the
man to take the yacht instantly out of the harbor and
hold her off the northern point. At a certain signal

he was to send a boat ashore, but if pursued by "the
- government vessel he must steam on up the coast to a_
little fishing town she named and await there the ar-_

rival of the owner. She added briefly os reason, and
boldly signed her name.

“Rios will not pursue far,
for the other things.”

Darting into the bedroom, she got from de closet
a pair of tiny patent-leather riding boots and a small
She had scarcely done this when her maid
reappeared, her face frightened and her arms full of
men’s garments.

“What does it mean; sefiorita?” she gasped. “There
People are running to and fro,

”” she sabe “Now

The girl slipped out of her gown Sid began to put
on the uniform, her maid assisting with trembling
fingers from force of habit,

“They go to arrest the man who saved my life,
Teresa,” Dolores said, in a voice which quivered a
little. ‘They will shoot him for a conspirator, and it
would kill me. He is at Los Bocas, and I will warn
him. It is the only way.”

“Mother of Heaven!” exclaimed the bipntcned
“You would ride alone to Los Bocas? You
must not, sefiorita. There must be some one else
whor—”

“The boots, quick! There is no one else. The men
“You know them, The cloak!

 

Teresa, in the darkness?”
She stood for an instant, straight and slim, the long

~~ cloak hanging almost to her, feet in graceful folds,
the broad-brimmed hat set at a ‘slight angle on her dark
hair, which was coiled up underneath it® Her cheeks

were: pink with excitement, and her glorious e¥es

DS apt Her radiant beauty had never been more
_ vivid, and the maid stared at her in sera upetien ad-
 miration.

99

“But, yes, sefiorita,’ she muttered,

WEEKLY.

 

Without further hesitation, she hastened

  

17

Dolores laughed excitedly, and caught the woman
by the hand.

“You must help me, Teresa,” she said rapidly.
“This letter must be delivered to the captain of the
American yacht instantly. Your brother will take it
ie must! Run out with it to him the moment I
am gone. He lives in the next street, and it will
take you but five minutes. You understand? They
must not seize the yacht.”

She thrust the letter into the dazed Teresa’s hands
and hastened to the docx.
“Come,” she ordered.
It will be difficult, I fear.”

It proved, happily, to be remarkably easy. The men
about the stables were all gathered in front of the
main building; discussing, in excited voices, the cause
of the bustle and commotion.in the palace. Huertes
had dashed out five minutes before, and ordered his
horse saddled instantly. Evidently something unusual
was afoot, and they waited eagerly for a clew to the
matter, thus enabling the two women to slip through
a side door without being seen or heard.

The mistress went instantly to the stall of her fa-
vorite mount and backed him silently out. With cheek
pressed close against his velvety nose, she whispered
soothing words gs she led him cautiously to the door _
through which they had come, Teresa staggering be-
hind under the weight of a heavy military saddle.

Perhaps the clever animal understood that he must
make no noise, for he walked with slow caution, mov-
ing his dainty feet with scarcely a sound. !

With a little sigh of relief, as the cool night air
blew once more against her face, Dolores slipped into
a path leading to the gardens, and, ata safe distance,
stopped to put on the saddle.

She led the horse silently through the gate and
sprang into the saddle. The pale-faced maid had a_
glimpse of her sitting straight as any trooper, as she
adjusted the cloak about her. The next instant the
horse leaped forward at a word, his steel-shod hoofs
clattering on the stone pavement.

 

“We must get out a horse.

CHAPTER XI.
WHAT THE MOON SAW.

High up against the mountainside nestled Los Bocas,
long, low, and rambling, with gay tiled roof and wide
terrace covered with awnings, where one might dine

_ with the cool night wiad stirring the flame of shaded

candles and the whole wide ocean spread out below,
bathed in the gorgeous glory of the setting sun, or the
pale, silvery splendor of the moon.

Three Americans, sitting close to the stone dees —

trade, below which ran the narrow road from town,
were enjoying it hugely. They had dined leisurely, ©
and, though it was past ten o’clock, their tiny cups of |

wonderful coffee had only just been emptied. They >
had been talking all through the meal, but now they
“save that you

sat silent, gazing at the ey, scene dies out before’ as
them. é : ; ae

  
a8 TIP TOP WEEKLY.

The night wind was rather brisk, and no one else
had elected to remain on the terrace, though, through
the long, open windows came the talk and gay laughter
of several belated parties,

“It’s a wonderful place,” Winslow murmured, flick-
ing his cigarette ash over the railing. “So quiet and
restful, and yet without in the least being dull. That's
one of the things I like about these Southern coun-
tries. The people live reasonably, and never seem to
hurry.”

“There’s somebody coming who’s in a sure-enough
hurry, I opine,” Buckhart returned. “He must have
a thundering good cayuse, to race him uphill that
way.’

As he ceased speaking and the others leaned for-
ward to listen, the distant galloping of a horse came
faintly to their ears. There is someting oddly im-
pelling in the sound at any time, and now, breaking
as it did the peaceful quiet of the balmy night with
its clatter, it effectually prevented conversation as the
three men sat there listening.

Louder and louder it grew, as the solitary rider

urged his steed up the winding road from the flats.

below. Suddenly it ceased, and they guessed he was
taking a particularly steep stretch at a walk. Then it
broke out again, and a few» moments later the cause
of the disturbance appeared around a bend, clattered
on the remaining short distance, and came to a sudden
stop directly beneath the terrace. ‘

For an instant the tider—evidently a soldier of
some sort——sat slim and erect in his saddle, looking
up at the three men, whose faces, not more than three
feet above his own, were plainly visible in the moon-
light.

“Sefior Merriwell ?”
- questioning voice, ,
Dick gave a sudden start, and, rising swiftly, bent

he said, at beth. in a low,

~ over the railing, There was a brief pause, and then

the horseman went on quietly: }
“Are you alone on the terrace?”
_ Merriwell drew his breath with an odd, whistling
capa sound, and into his face there flashed s suddenly a tense,
alert expression of the most intense astonishment.
EON es?” he answered simply, in a voice which he kept
_ steady by the greatest effort. |
“Order your horses to be brought at onee,” the other
: “said hurriedly. “Tell one of your friends to do it
- now—instantly.”’
_ Without hesitation, Winslow, who could searcely

have helped hearing, rose silently from the table and |

disappeared inside.

_ “Duranzo has betrayed you,” the low voice went —

on swiftly. “The president knows all, and has dis-
patched a troop to arrest you, You ene fly instantly.
Five minutes’ delay might ruin all,”

-Dick’s eyes. were fixed upon the hades below the’

hat brim, and in them was a loole of eee and ad:

uP he ‘skeet atteein
‘was a moment “pause in which the iter

“serious—regret ful.

of hoofs sounded from behind the building.. The rider
turned the horse deftly so that he faced dow n the road,
and began to move Slowly away.

“Stop!” Dick exclaimed. “You must not go.’

The next instant he had vaulted over the balustrade,
hung for a second by his hands, and dropped into the
roadway. The girl laughed nervously as he reached
her side.

“T did not mean to go,’’ she said, in a low voice. ‘I
have to show you the way. They must not see me,
though. Here! Into. this. shadow,”

Dick led the horse into a patch of shadow close
against the rock, made by the top of a royal palm.
Then he looked up into her face.

“Sefiorita,” he said reproachfully, “why have you
run this risk? You should not have come. ig ou should
have sent some one.’ ;

“There was no one to send. They would have be-
trayed me. Listen, sefor. You must make all speed
to the point just beyond the castle of San Antonio. I
sent a letter to the captain of the yacht telling him to
anchor there and wait for a lantern signal. They will
send the gunboat after the Peerless, you know. They
wish to make escape impossible, but when Rios finds
the yacht.gone, I hope he will not follow. Here are
the horses. Let us be off at once.’

Buckhart and Winslow appeared at that roment
leading Dick’s mount, and the quartet were presently

clattering swiftly down the road, Dolores continuing = |
to.pour into Merriwell’s ear an account of Duranzo’s =|
treachery and the manner in which she had become | ae

aware of it,

Dick listened to it in silence, a feeling of regret
welling up within him, Up to this moment he had
scarcely considered the girl beside him. Her father’s
injustice and dishonor were so great that he had felt
not the slightest compunction in conspiring to bring |
about his downfall, He was upheld, in fact, by the —

knowledge that the whole country would be infinitel en

benefited by the fall of a tyrant who had ground them
under his heel for so long, But now he suddenly re-_
alized that such a fall wand involve also this. fas-
cinating girl, whose prompt, courageous action had,
probably sav ed their lives. sy)
“Sefiorita,” he said slowly, when she had finished,
“vou make me hate myself.”
She looked quickly at him, her eyebrows lifted:
“But why?” she asked, :
“To think that you have done all this oe me, know.
ing that I was plotting for your. father’s. ruin.” Ns 4
She shrugged her mnoulters slightly. Her face was

“That is nothing to me,” she returned slow! “

know—my father, and—I do-not blame you, | up ha e

tried to make him change,. but—he will not listen?’,
She -hesitated an instant, and then went on. mor

‘rapidly ;

“Perhaps there js some excuse for Paks
have been as bad, and he is but following. |

vItis not. Fie and Tam not iyi defen

 
TIP. TOP

    

duct. But everywhere about us he sees men using the
government for their private ends, and so I suppose
he thinks Sefior, if he would only give it all up
and go away, I should be—happy.”

Her voice trembled a little, and she caught her
under lip between her teeth. The next instant she
straightened suddenly, as did Dick, and pulled her
horse to a standstill.

‘Listen!’ she whispered.

Hg In the stillness which followed, broken only by
| the heavy breathing of the horses and the soft sough-
| ing of the wind among the trees, there came faintly
| to their ears the distant sound of galloping.

“They have found out where you were,” Dolores
said swiftly. “We must turn off into the forest until
they have passed. The road to the shore is at least
two miles farther.”

-Hastily dismounting, they led the animals a hun-
dred yards.or so among the trees, and then halted,
each one ready to stifle a ni¢ckering challenge which
the beasts might give forth.

The galloping grew swiftly louder as the squad of
troopers swept along the hard, level road, and in less
than ten minutes the soldiers thundered past the hid-
ing place of Dick and his party at undiminished speed.
The moment they had passed, the four hurried forth
to the road again, and leaped into the saddle.

- “They can’t hear us, when they’re making all that
noise themselves,’ Dick remarked, as they broke into
a canter.

They kept the animals well to the side of the road,

 

  
 
   

raced on till the opening of the road leading down to
the point suddenly appeared. Then they stopped.

Dolores had already described the signal which
would bring a boat from the yacht, and told them
_where to get a lantern, Her old nurse, it seems, lived
about.a quarter of a mile this side the fort, and the
girl had given Dick a ring to show her.
_ “She will do anything for you,” she explained. “If,
by chance, the yacht has been pursued, she will keep
- you hidden until you can make your way north to San
mi MMateo.: :

She paused an instant, and then held out hér hand
to Merriwell.
(There is naan else,”
adios.”

“T am going to see you back to the palace,’ ” Dick re-

turned shortly.
“Oh, you must not!” she gasped. “That might ruin
everything. I shall find my way very well alone.”
_ “Nevertheless,” Dick returned grimly, “I do not
_ intend to run that risk. There is no real danger,” he

hastened to explain. “The troop cannot return from
Los Bocas in time to catch me, and I imagine no one
else has much of an idea whatisup.”

For an instant she sat looking at him in silent plead-
ing. Perhaps there was something about the firm set

  
   
 
    
   
 
   
  
  
  
 

she OES, “except—

 
  
  
   
 
  
   
  
   
 
  
 
   

   

however, where it was softer, and almost in silence -

3 of his meuth which told her that he meant to have his stretch absolutely unprotected by shadows.

  

WEEKLY.

19

way. Perhaps she was not quite sorry, after all. At
all events, she shrugged her shoulders resignedly.

“Very well, then,’ she sighed. “We must lose no
time. Good-by, sefiors.”

She held out her hand to Buckhart, who gripped it
gently and told her what a trump she was and how
they could never pay their debt to her. Winslow said
nothing, but, bareheaded, he bent over the tiny fin-
gers and pressed his lips against the heavy buckskin
gauntlet. As he straightened up again, his face pale
in the silvery moonlight, something in his eyes sent
a quick spasm of pain across the girl’s face and made
her bring down her riding whip forcefully across + the
horse’s shoulder.

““Get the boat in, and don’t wait for me if you’re
followed,’ Dick called back, as they swept down the
road at a gallop.

The ride through Santador was uneventful. Evi-
dently, as Merriwell had hoped, knowledge of the plot
had not yet spread abroad, and they reached the gate
in the garden wall without having once been stopped
or questioned. Here the girl pulled in her horse and

_ turned swiftly to her companion.

“Thank you, sefior,” she said, in a low tone. “You
must not delay an instant.”
He caught her hand in both of his, and she went on

with an effort:

“Remember what I told you. Do not give up your
effort because of me. I do not count—I do not wish
to. Good-by.” . .

Before he could do more than hastily return her
farewell, she had leaped to the ground, thrust open the
gate, and was leading her horse through it into the gar-
den beyond. :

With a sigh Dick turned and urged his animal to a
gallop. Deliberately he put out of his mind every
other thought save the immediate necessity of reach-
ing the crossroad before the soldiers returned. He
had spoken confidently of his ability to do this, but
in réality he felt that it was going to be the closest
kind of a thing.

Out through the town he flew and into the coun-
try. Past groups of palms, their dark-green leaves
edged with silver by the moon; past high hedges of
Spanish bayonet, prickly and impassable; past thatch-
roofed mud cabins, blotches of black against a shadowy
background. It seemed as if the whole world was
asleep, and he was just beginning to hope that all might
be well after all, when that ominous clatter of hoofs
sounded faintly in the distance.

Instantly he brought his whip down on the horse’s
side, and the animal leaped forward down the straight, —
level stretch. The road was a scant half mile away, —
and he rode on the softer side, hoping to eee ee ;
heard by the troopers.

All would have been well but for the bright moon- _ z

light. ‘Unfortunately, about a hundred feet before the —
crossroad could be reached, he had to cross a wide
In the r

i
20 6 TIP

midst of this a shrill yell of triumph from the ap-
proaching crowd showed that he had been seen.

It was a race now pure and simple, and, as he
whirled into the opening among the trees and tore
along toward the shore, Dick felt a joyous sort of thrill
shoot through him at the thought that it was his skill
pitted against theirs.

“And if I can’t beat a bunch of toy soldiers I ought
- to be caught,” he muttered.

Out of the woods he darted and past a cottage where

a middle-aged man and woman stood in the open door-
way staring at him dazedly. She must be the old
nurse, he t thought, and waved a peremptory hand for
them to go inside; he did not wish them to be sus-
pected of: aiding the escaping men. Apparently. they
understood, for a backward glance showed that they
_ had disappeared.
The great, gray walls of the Foe Gama tmaninees
save by a few broken-down veterans—flashed past.
He wondered what would happen if the boat was not
‘there, and a moment later gave an exclamation of re-
lief as he saw it in the shallow water near the beach,
while, farther out, the Peerless lay ready for flight.
Straight down to the sand he galloped and flung
himself « out of the saddle within a few feet of where
- Buckhart and Winslow stood anxious-faced. Without
a word, they splashed through the water and climbed
aboard the Gis boat.

Start her up, Watkins,’ Winslow baides coolly.

ene “y were a ‘good half mile from shore before the
: pursuing throng “dashed out on the beach 1, wildly way-
~ ing arms and rifles, A popping fire presently arose,
but they paid no heed.
_ ‘What.a girl! ’ Buckhart mused presently.

“What

a corking girl!”

Winslow said nothing. ‘He stood at the w heel, fac-
‘ing seaward, silent, motionless, inscrutable, his eyes
resting on the rippling’ ladder of light made by the
% ‘moon upon the water.
 Merriwell was equally silent. He seemed to be
watching the white yacht lying calmly there in mag-
 nificent repose; but in his mind was the vivid picture
_ of a slim, erect figure in a soldier’s cloak sitting a
_ splendid black horse with the perfection of unconscious
_ grace, and racing up a reLeemy stony road at breakneck
- Spe eds: |
iy ice all, life was not aes the simple, easy,
straightforward matter, it sometimes seemed

THE END.

‘The romantic and dramatic story which will appear
in next week’s issue will bear the title: “Dick Merri-,
well, -Reyolutionist ; or, Backing a Rebellion.” On
tr pical waters, in the stillness of the night, a filibuster

leets with an exciting adventure. Merriwell and his —
comrades engage in a pitched battle, and Dick goes
| into his pocket to pay the price of victory. Secret

of plotte s are betrayed, and the Americans find
themselves in a city seething with rebellion. The ery

purely idiotic,

_ gomery i Marsden was seen eac
astride of his powerful thoroughbred—a man’ the de
alike of mothers who had marriageable daughter

_ money’; spinsters who would have given much to “ceive
f “Bo and Saddles” sounds at fea a thrill a .

TOP WEEKLY.

ing assault, is made on the enemy, and some oue is
rescued. The green eye of jealousy quivers and
flashes, and a rival is plunged into mortal danger. A
chivalrous band of men risk their lives to succor the
imperiled—all for the love of a woman. It is a pic-
turesque story filled with heart interest. It is Num-
ber 821, out January 6th.

MILLIONAIRE MARSDEN’S ELEVEN.

By PHILIP C. STANTON.
(A Two-part Story—Part I.)

CHAPTER I.
A CALL TO THE PRESS.

Montgomery L. Marsden, the Wall Street magnate,
was reading a paper in a cozy corner of the club. Sud-
denly he rose to his feet, with an expression of disgust

mingled with rage and unbelief on his countenance.

Holding the paper which he had been perusing with

one hand, and pointing with an accusing finger of the

other at the offending article on the sheet, he strode over
to where his partner, J. Rooker Armory, was huddled
up in an easy- ~chair striving to take a siesta after a busy
day “downtown.”

Towering over Armory, as if bent on bringing him to.
justice for some awful offense against his august per- —
son, Marsden fairly bellowed down to the crouching Ags, ;
ure beneath him: ia

‘“Preposterous! Monstrous! The acme of idles
ness! The idiot that wrote that must have been raised
in an incubator and nurtured on asses’ mill to manhood
and beyond,
ments in print! It’s criminal, Armory, criminal, if not
I'd like to meet the fellow face to face.
['d-—” He was so angry he was at a loss for an ex-
pression, s

Armory scrambled to his feet, his face wearing a ludi- yd
crous look of fear in his semisomnolent state. aa

“Wh-what the devil’s the matter, Marsden?” he stam-_
mered, “Is the club on fire?
been stirring up the press against our Panama Irrigation K;

‘and Cultivation scheme?” he questioned anxiously, as his

eye rested on the paper and he subsided into his chair.
once more, “My!* he gasped weakly. 2 Ot re ene
to give a man heart disease.”

“Read that,” responded Marsden, with ssa air of a

judge pronouncing sentence on a desperate prisoner. ers

think a man who would write such stuff should be hung,
drawn, and quartered. Just read it, and tell, me what fou;
think of it.”

Marsden retained his belligerent attitude during: ‘the.

time the other was occupied i in reading. He was a large,

fine-looking chap, with gray mustache, was fully six feet
in height, set up like a military man. Although he was

not far from the sixty mark, his eye was as clear, his
step as light as that of a man of twenty- -five,

Sum
the figure 0
morning in

or winter, when he was in the city,

a nod of ppp nien toes as me mandi pe

 

 

The idea of putting such nonsensical senti-  — |

sic that fellow, Norton, ©
   

     
     
   
     
       
   
   
   
      
    
   
   
   
   
     
   
     
   
   
   
    
    
   
   
    
    
   
   
     
     
   
    
        
     
        
  
          
     
    
    
     
         
      
 
      
       

 
 

who would have liked to try upon him the blandishments
they possessed. Marsden was a bachelor, and cared not
a snap for society.
His partner, Armory, also was a bachelor, but that and
the faculty for making millions which they both pos-
_ sessed in a remarkable degree were the only things they
had in common. He was as small in stature as the other
was prodigious, with a little, lean body and dried-up,
“skinny” features, presenting the appearance of a prema-
turely aged boy. His voice was as shrill as the other’s
was sonorous. His head was out of all proportion to his.
body, but the broad forehead showed fully as much of
intellectuality as that of Marsden.

Armory went over the article carefully. He seemed
to take an unusual length of time to the other waiting to
‘hear his opinion.

“Very true. My idea exactly. Nothing could be ex-
plained more correctly, my dear fellow,” he said em-
phatically. “It expresses my views exactly. It’s what
Pye always contended,” he continued, nodding his head
and smiling until his face was wreathed in wrinkles.

“Do you mean to subscribe to such infernal rot?”
Marsden retorted. “I might have known you would not
agree with me, however, for you never do on anything
outside of business matters. I did think, though, you
would be ready to call a halt on this writer’s mad scrawl.
Ridiculous, I repeat. Look at me as a living refutation
of the argument,”

“And look at me, Marsden,” cackled Armory dryly.
“T never slammed ‘a baseball over the goal in my life,
or kicked a football down to first base, but look at me!
I don’t think anybody will say I haven't been successful
in my life’s work.”

Marsden seemed about to explode, but avoided it
through the medium of a loud snort.

- “T see that you and I cannot agree on this subject,
Rooker,” he said loftily. He always called his partner
by his middie name when he wished to add weight to his
words, “Your chance remark about your never having
kicked a football over the home plate-has put an idea
in my head. I think we can have practical dllustration
that the idiot who concocted that article, and you, are
altogether wrong. Suppose we make the matter inter-
sting ?

“Tf it is proven that you are in the right, I will endow
your ‘School for Inculcating the Poetic eit in Children
of the Lower Classes.’ If I am right, we will make ita
‘School for Physical Culture’—at your expense.” —
“Tt have to think it over—I'll have to think it over,
“Montgomery,” was the partner’s answer. “You know,
t’s a pretty hard thing to beat a man at his own game.’

Tt was not long after this conversation that Magnate
arsden left the “Street” and the city on a private |
etrand, He seemed to have no fixed destination, as his
rivate car appeared in several cities. —
as being on a “mysterious mission,” but its nature could

  

  

   

  

  

 

   

  

 
 

 

 
 
  

nection with a big: financial combination.

i w days after the return of Marsden had hae etaly,
a noted in the dailies, the city editors of the leading papers
re electrified by receiving telephone messages that the
aire wished to have a personal interview with the —
tatives of each at his Wall Street office promptly —
a certain hour in the afternoon. At first it was re-
ed as a hoax, but afterward was verified. The idea
ritherto i untamed: ay chia papnale COTE

  

  
 
 

   

He was reported ;

not be learned, although it was supposed to be in con-

marked difference.

TIP TOP WEEKLY. | 21

right up to the reporters and “feeding out of their hands”
was deemed almost inconceivable.

The newspaper men were a curious, expectant lot when
they were ushered into the private offices of “M. L.
Marsden & Co,” Armory was the “company.”

Marsden himself- was there, suave and smiling, and
with him was the partner, facing the wondering news-
paper men with as much of a smile as his wizened fea-
tures were capable of producing,

The magnate welcomed each reporter individually, then
collectively ; individually by introducing each to his part-
ner, and inquiring the name of the sheet he represented,
Boxes of cigars had been opened, and the visitors were
puffing away at perfectos which, of course, they knew
were manufactured on earth, but of which they could
think only they were of the same brand as those indulged
in by the gods on Oly mpus—if the gods were lovers of
the weed.

“I wish to say, gentlemen, that I hope you will under-
stand my seeming unwillingness to meet you all before”
—every reporter had out his note paper, and was writing
away industriously—‘“was because I was afraid of your
ability to wring from me, under the glare of your hypnotic
eyes and seductive questioning, some business secret
which I should not reveal. It was no doubt of your
companionable qualities.

“T have made it a lifelong rule, as no doubt many
of you know, never to be interviewed. At this late day I
do not intend to break my resolve.”

A score. of pencils stopped scratching, and a double .

score of eyes looked blankly at the speaker.

“No, @ cannot change my rule now,” he continued.
“T propose to do the interviewing. I shall interview my-
self fully—for your benefit. Here goes:

“T have just formed a great combination——” He

" paused a moment and surveyed the eager faces about him >

smilingly. Some of the reporters showed symptoms of
a desire to murder him for hesitating at this point. All
showed the intensést excitement. |

“A combination of—football players,” he conkineed:
seeming to enjdy fhe puzzled glances of the men of the
press. “It’s thé greatest scheme of the century, I should
say. In order to ;
editorial I came at!
reputation and sonte circulation, strange to relate.

“The editorial is headed ‘Brains vs. Brawn.’
follows:

   
  
    
 

 

“Tt is a noteworthy fact of our civilization that man-

kind is losing the purely physical nature of the savage, —
the more we advance in the spirit of modernity. Muscle _
has given away to mind. Scientists agree that as the

purely mental’ attributes of man are developed, and the:
“more it is striven to develop them, the less do the physical —
characteristics exhibit themselves in the persons of the

lords of creation.

“ ‘That the man of thirty of to-day : is infinitely anees

than the one of sixty of the time of the Goths and
Vikings is self-evident. But he is as ninety omer
to a child of ten/in the way of ee

«<Time was, many decades :

the average man of twenty-five, in a physical way. Now-
—adays, each year in the age of a human being makes a
Now, a man of thirty has seen his
best days, and after that his bodily vigor wanes as h
EY increases, oe ic ane the con

 

art properly, I shall read to you an
tress in a periodical which has some

It oe Sigel:

when the ‘man_ ot.
_ thirty-five or forty was capable o ‘folding his own with

    
     
   
       
   
  

22 tiPs OP

 
 

What chance would the football player of a few years
back, if indeed he has shown any intellecttial ability since,
have with the undergraduate athlete of the gridiron,
hardly out of his teens?

“*Certainly this is the age of mental ability and apti-

tude rather than of physical fitness; of brains as opposed.

to brawn.’

“Now, gentlemen, that is the greatest expression of
personal vanity and spite I ever read,” continued Mars-
den, “Such expressions touched me in a vital spot. Al-
ways mens sana in corpore sano has been my motto.

hen I was a college student I was something of an

athlete in several fields. I started in life without a dol-
lar, and I have my share of worldly goods. I don’t think
my brain power has diminished, and you can see what I
look like ‘physically.

“Now to the point: My partner and I could not agree
on the subject of this editorial. He contends that the
idea is correct. I hold it is radically wrong. We did

- agree on one point—to put the matter to a practical test.
To this end I decided to resurrect a football eleven
composed of former best-known stars of the gridiron,
to be pitted against a team composed of the best young
football players—when I say young, I mean college un-

_) dergraduates.

“T have interested myself, with the result that my
eleven has been selected personally by me. I have gained
the consent, in some instances, of staid fathers of families
to help me uphold my theory that brains and brawn ad-

_ vance hand in hand, so to speak. My men have been
selected from a variety of occupations, and some are cele-
brated. Not one has_ retrograded physically. * Many
have kept in excellent physical condition with the lapse

of years. All have gone into active training, and each
has signed an agreement not to allow home affairs to in-
terfere with them when they report for duty here. They
are more than enthusiastic over the prospect of proving
their prowess on the gridiron.”
“What about the other eleven?” que eried one of the
reporters. ’

or oat: $e instigation of my partner, fr. Feat te a
committee from the various universitie : all select a team
of the best material to be found aniong” selves.”

- “And the names of the two elevens, Mr; Marsden ?”
asked another newspaper man, pencil poised i in air. “As
I understand it, both teams are to be composed of colle-
gians, undergraduates and alumni. Why not call one the
_ All-collegiate, the other the Marsden Eleven?”
The magnate reflected a little.
“T shall be ve ry glad for any of you to give sugges-
tions,” he said. “That is one of the very reasons which
led me to request that you visit me personally. I want
| -- your coéperation. All-collegiate is well enough, but I
should not care for the other to be called the Marsden

    
   
  
 

‘

*

_ fore, I am open to suggestions.” _
+ “Why not call it the Goths of the Griditon ?” sug-
es gested a bright-faced youth. ‘The editorial you read
refers, I believe, to the fact that the Goths and Vikings
_ were as strong, physically, in latter years as they were
in their prime. Besides, they will serve ina certain sense
‘to shatter traditions and generally accepted views, of the
present day regarding the physical fitness of man.
a title would serve to emphasize the very point which
you are eng. to prove, Mr, Marsden.”

aes Bi

  

Ve Leg ABN

  

Eleven. That would be too personal. Aa I sated: be--
tative molders of public opinion, and Wendell-Wendell,
‘of Locust Street, Philadelphia, who claimed Benjamin

tackle.
Such |

aus to reach easily to the pra meth a "HP, a

WEEKLY.

   
  
    
  
   
   
   
   
    
    
  
   
 
     

The multimillionaire regarded the speaker approv-
ingly.

“Young man, that’s a very good idea,” was his reply.
“To my mind, that will fill the bill exactly.”

9

CHAPTER II. ae
THE GATHERING OF A CLAN. 1.

That was in the early summer. As the auturnn came
on and the athletically inclined tired of baseball and ten-
nis and rowing and horse racing, and the other sports
of the summer season, they began to experience attacks
of football fever. These attacks, mild at first, grew more
pronounced as the sharp, crisp air of November brought
to mind that it was time for the game of the giants—of
strenuosity exemplified. A longing possessed the souls
of the stronger sex, no less than those of the fair, to see
a score and two of lusty, peaceful savages—before and
after the game, heroes at all times—contend for su-
premacy on the gridiron.

Everybody was talking about the coming meeting be-
tween the All-collegiate Eleven and that of the much-
advertised Goths, the members of which were being
trained and supported for the time out of the pocket of,
the world-famous financier, Montgomery L. Marsden. —

It had been agreed that the one decisive game between
the two elevens was to take place at Cambridge, near
Boston, on the celebrated football gridiron, “Soldiers’
Field.” It was expected that in point of attendance the —
number of spectators would far exceed any crowds that
had ever gathered to witness contests on the gridiron.
The greater share of the training was to be done in New
York, under the eye of Marsden himself.

The eleven to which Marsden had pinned his faith was
made up of some men whose names were well known in
other fields than football. To begin with, there was
Brigadier General Munson, the former right half back _
of the University of Wisconsin. After graduating, he _
had enlisted in the army as a volunteer, had risen from
the ranks, and finally had been promoted to his present
high grade for distinguished service in Uncle Sam's
island possessions. With the tan of the tropical East
on his face, he had come clear from the Pacific to help |
Marsden. The latter’s influence at the capital had caused |
a ftirlough to be granted to the soldier. :

There was William Starface, full-blood Sioux, Car- _
lisle’s noted center, stolid-faced and stockily built, now a —
practicing physician in a Western city, and eminent con-
sulting surgeon in the hospitals of that city. He was
confident that an Indian did not age quickly. Then there ©
were Theo Allen Rowe, one of the most celebrated jurists |
of his native State, Princeton’s great right end; Jeff- —
linger, the: mightiest right guard Old Eli ever had :
known, now a politician in a far Western Statel-? et

Besides these were Janney, once left half back of
Fair Harvard, now one of the country’s most authori-

    
   
     
       
     
       
     
       
     
       
   
         
       
       
     
     
       
 

Franklin as an ancestor, and was one of the cotillion
leaders of his native city. He formerly led the oppo- si
nents of Old Penn a merry dance on the gridiron as right rh
Janney was to play left halfback. ie
Some others were Beeler, who once sported the tiger ie:
stripes of Princeton as left guard, now a stock. broker —
of the Western metropolis, a man whose fortune was

 
   
   
         
    
     
       
   

~ man of most mature appearance, with a head as bald of
hair as a football itself. He was an old-timer. .

Trescott, formerly of Cornell, was a candidate for the
position of left tackle on the team, as was also Upwei-
mer, of the University of Pennsylvania. Trescott was
a protégé of Jefflinger, as they were from the same
Western city. Both Trescott and Upweimer were most
anxious to secure the place, and the rivalry between them
was intense. If one was chosen the other would act as
substitute; but Trescott, having the backing of Jefflinger,
was making a hard fight. It was feared that serious fric-
tion would be engendered. Happily, this was not the
case, the matter working itself out in a manner as satis-
factory as it was extraordinary.

Jefflinger and Trescott stood chatting together on the
corner of the broad, fashionable, much-frequented avenue
near their hotel, having just returned from the grounds
and the practice game, Jefflinger, true representative of
the hardy Norsemen of centuries before, of commanding
stature, broad of chest, eye like an eagle, nose like that
of a Roman gladiator, overtopped the other by several!
inches. Trescott was rather of the torpedo-craft model,
Jefflinger of the tremendous battleship type, the force
of whose collision with an enemy is irresistible. The one
was the whale, slow of movement, unaware of its own
powers; the other the “killer,” the terrible sea avenger
which attacks, and wounds, and wears down the leviathan
before the big fish realizes its danger.

The two men were carelessly surveying the unceasing
throng of traffic, composed of cabs, hansoms, automo-
biles, victorias, men and women astride of sleek-groomed
; saddle horses. The two lounged in easy attitudes, fac-
‘ ing the great park farther up the avenue.

- Tt was in the afternoon, when the throng was the
- thickest. Society had returned from its temporary re-
_ treats by the mountains and shore, and its Rep eseera res
were everywhere in evidence.

“Hello! what’s the trouble up theré? ” Jefflinger in-
quired of his companion, stretching himself to’ his fullest
height; his nostrils working like those of a thoroughbred
aiting for the barrier to rise. Trescott, too, was keenly

alive to the fact that an accident of some kind had taken
place, or a catastrophe was impending:

  

  

  

at, looking: back fearfully over their shoulders;

from far up the avenue.
The next instant the object of all the auncastion itself
burst into view a couple of feet or so behind the mounted
bluecoat.
c rate of speed. By its side galloped another po-
liceman, who appeared vainly to be trying to arouse the
man in the front seat, the chauffeur, who was either
xicated or asleep. In the brief glance they had of
shing machine, as awful in its aspect as a swift-_

  

  

one young. Theis white faces, ‘with the ter-
eyes, loomed up queerly, contrasted with the
e-looking human form in the front seat.

  

was end avoring | to deap f rom the seat

   

TIP TOP

. perhaps bruised, or broken, or crushed into an unshapely —

- swiftly moving black body before him, launched. himself _ :

Drivers were lashing their horses to one side of the

screams and warning shouts came to’ ge) ears ‘faintly

‘It was a large, black automobile, going at a_

_spainfully torn by his clutching at the unyielding back of

Juggernaut, Jefflinger and Trescott, one on each
side, saw that man in the front seat was leaning, over in
ange, ere ey papaya and. ee a

ler woman, auteroniog tt the nes of - ety

  

WEEKLY.

23

   
 

woman, arms thrown around the other, appeared to be
trying to calm her and hold her in the car.

Directly ahead, a little to one side, in some almost
miraculous manner. keeping just out of reach of the
madly rushing automobile, the second policeman was —
trying to arouse the man by flicking his whip across his
face, and was calling out to the panic-stricken, screaming
woman not to. jump.

There, it had come! With a crash, horse and rider
were down, head over heels, in the street, and the crowd
gave a gasp of horror. The onward-rushing machine
had almost reached the point where the two aes
players were standing.

Trescott saw the horse and man roll over and. over:
Already he felt the wind generated by the speed of the
automobile almost sweep him off his feet. The terrify-
ing buzzing sound and the screaming of the woman on
the back seat rent his ears.

In another second it would reach him. He heute
quickly, and, as if in unconscious response to his idea
to save the women if possible, his whole one-hundred-
and-sixty-pound fraie of bone and sinew braced itself -~
as a tiger crouches to spring.

At that second the motor car was even with him, al-
most touching him as it passed.

Through a sort of a mist he caught a giinpse of a
Viking face, the head hatless, hajr like the mane of a
lion, glint of daring in the blazing blue eyes, just across
from him on the other side of the wildly careering ma-
chine, In ‘some manner he realized, as the head instantly
disapeared from view, that Jefflinger had caught at the’
machine and missed—even then was lying on the street |

        
     
   
       
       
     
   
   
   
   
   
         
     
     
      
       
     
       
         
     
     
     
         
     
 

mass, The thing had happened much more ene than & i
it could be thought or written. eee

The automobile had shot past with the ne Saat alae
of an express. Swift of foot, as proven oft on the
cinder path, Trescott took one long breath, gave a mighty
leap through the air after the flying auto, ran with the
bounds of a racer trained to the hour, gained on the

      
    
        
   
   
    

with one more mighty leap straight out ahead—into eter-
nity, it seemed—caught something, and clung. One idea —
possessed his mind. It was to ar into the car, if possi-- i:
ble, and stop it. 2

His hands clutched the body of the utomiobile. with:
the grip of a drowning man, For the next few seconds,
a long interval it seemed to him, he struggled and ex-
erted himself—till the blood rushed to his head and he.
saw as through a crimson cloud—to pull himself into the
car. He was conscious that his feet and legs were kick- _
ing lustily out behind, and that he was being ‘carried along
irresistibly at a terrific rate of speed. His finger nails |
were broken, and the ends of the fingers themselves were

      
     
       
       
    
     
 

  
    
      
  

the seat; but he set his teeth in the old bulldog fashion
he practiced on the football field, and would not let go.
‘By an almostsuperhuman effort he drew. himself up,
clambering over.the back between the two women,’
One was 4 tiet ; a glimpse showed him that she was
fora moment he rested, his breath coming —

   
    
 
  
 
  
  

  

  
  
  
 
 

  
 

 
 
   
  

24 TIP TOP

   

cott thought. He was still young enough for such illu-
sions—he was the youngest man on the team.

Then he became keenly alive to their peril.
outside showed him the white, blurred, set, sympathizing
faces of the spectators ; underneath his feet rumbled and
shook and snorted and swayed the devilish machine, car-

5 rying them on to certain destruction if it was not checked,
and that speedily. The shops looked like one continous
tow of windows as they whizzed by. The street cross-
ings were mere slits in a panoramic city scene.

It was time to act! In front was a double street-car
line, on the thoroughfare which their avenue intersected
in a diagonal direction. He had a momentary view of
cars moving up and down, many vehicles passing. But
even if they escaped these, a worse danger threatened.
Straight ahead, as if they“had been aimed for it by some
fiendish hand, rose up the front of a tall, narrow build-
ing, looking as a rock appears to the crew of a vessel
bearing straight down upon it. Not a second could be
lost. He-was vaguely aware that a pair of brown eyes
were fixed upon him pleadingly, that a pair of fresh
young lips were moving as if in prayer.

Scrambling past the unconscious body in the front seat,

_ Trescott fumbled helplessly—feeling hopelessly for some
bar or lever to press, and keep them from ee hurled
straight from this world into the next.

It was then that the girl proved herself a heroine.
Leaning over, she called to him in a voice which he

heard clearly above the rumbling and roar, the warning -

cries of the crowd:

~ “Push down the brass lever at the side!

—for God’s sake, the brass one!” —
i Could he fail to follow such explicit directions? There
-., was but one brass bar. He pressed on it with all the
strength he possessed until it would go no farther.

yo eRe felt the machine slacken speed. The swaying and
rocking ceased. They had slowed down. Only a short
run farther—a complete stop, the automobile trembling
and vibrating like a frightened thing, at the foot of the
huge building towering menacingly in front of them. The
front wheels of ‘the auto were checked at its very curb.
Their lives were saved. .

_ Trescott knew that the young woman was being helped —
from the automobile, and that the older one was being
lifted out bodily and carried to the hotel across the way.
Only one glance did he get of a sweet face turned toward
him for a fleeting instant; for the next it was bent pity-
_ ingly on the white one of the unconscious: woman she so
much resembled.
: Presently an anibulande was driven up, with Hie bell
ie sounding loudly, and the unresisting body of the man in
_ the front seat was taken out and placed in the ambu-
lance, under the eye of the white-coated surgeon.
_ “Apoplexy,” he said briefly. “A pretty bad case.

The brass one

©

turning to Trescott. © |

“None to speak of,” was the sett of that gallant’ res-
cuer. To his mind the torn fingers were nothing. He
might have said that his heart needed pane. Such
a girl! : Oa? a8 WS
Wonder. of wonders! ‘Pushing h
f spc of questioning spectators about Tre
had been so many children, came old Jef
oe ate blown and ee Sinai ada

      
   
    
  
 

    
   

Ae hosints the
tt, as if they

    
 
  

A glance ,

terms.

_ Have you any hurts you want attended to: >” he asked, ,

is) to act as our BNO, bps the girl, — a a tender loo

  
    
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
  
    

WEEKLY.

shoulder, and the big fellow was saying, with a catch i in
his voice:

“Lucky dog! I'd rather have done that than be the
hero of a thousand football fields. I’m sorry I got put
out of the game so soon. I thought, when you started
to tackle, you’d land all right. Are you good enough to
play in the ‘regular eleven? Well, I said so all along. [I
think now everybody will say the same.’

Trescott laughed, in spite of his shaken state.

All the time he was being subjected to this sort of

“chaff” by his comrades he was thinking of a slim, sweet-
faced, dark-haired girl of about twenty years of age.
It was true he had seen her but a few moments at most.
She had not had time to thank him for his services in so
many words, though her eyes alone, when she had turned
them on him: he thought, had expressed more gratitude ~
than could be conveyed in a set speech. Who was she? .
He could not hazard a guess.

Under the circumstances, Upweimer, his rival for the
position on the team, could not do otherwise than with-
draw gracefully, although it was evident he was, greatly
disappointed at going as simply a substitute. He had
been selected by Marsden to fill the position of left \
tackle, but had felt positive he could not spare the time.
Jefflinger, a sort of adviser in chief to the promoter, there-_
upon had recommended Trescott, when, to the surprise
of all concerned, Upweimer had written stating he could
act. He appeared despondent when he was forced to.
withdraw his claim, in the light of the automobile inci-’
dent, in favor of the other. }

! CHAPTER III.
THE LINE-UP AT LAST.

Breseott learned the names of the persons he had res-_
cued from the newspapers, which contained lengthy ac-_
counts of the affair, describing his own action in glowing
As he had suspected, the occupants of the auto

were father, mother, and daughter. Their namé was —
Rouquin. Henry Rouquin, the chauffeur, was a wealthy
importer—a_ Franco-American, |The daughter’s ee
name was Elise. :

The left tackle experienced a strange new sensatitin. in
his bachelor heart a few days after the auto-car incident.
‘when he received a daintily perfumed note, having the
city postmark on the envelope. Teasing jsopen, he read

a few lines requesting him to call at a house in a resi-
dential section of the city, if he would be so kind, and —
receive in person the thanks of a “grateful family tor".
a gallant deed of rescue.” It was signed “Elise Rou-
quin.’

Trescott could not allow such an opperteiie. to pass

for seeing the girl again. When he called he met first
the young lady, then the mother, entirely recovered from
the nervous sh hock she had experienced, and the father on.
the high road to recovery. The greeting of Elise quite

-overwhelmed him. .

Rouquin, an ardent autoist, was subject to attaden of
vertigo. One of these had seized him while taking his
wife and daughter for a ride. In falling foarte the
speed lever of the car had been moved forward. uninten
tionally, which accounted for the ir at which tine were
running. ;

“I would Habe had no. difficulty in ‘stopping: it, ‘or I.
have often run it myself, if I had not been afraid mother :
- would jump and injure herself; but it remained for you

      
     
     
      
          
         
     
       
 
      
     
   
   
    
 

   
       
     
   
   

     
   
      
   
    
      
   
    
   
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
   
   
   
    
    
   
   
  
   
   
  
  
  
    
  
  

He made a number of calls on the family before the
eleven left for Boston a few days previous to the first
game at Cambridge. Rouquin confided to Trescott that
he intended to take his wife and Elise on an automobile
trip to the Massachusetts town to witness the game.

“Tt is not ‘good-by,’ merely ‘ati revoir,’ then, Mr. Tres-
cott,” the girl told the footballist the day before the de-
parture of the eleven for Boston. The trip was to be
made on Marsden’s yacht, Sea Nymph.

It was after the team had gone to the hotel in Bos-
ton, where the members would remain a day before going
to Cambridge, that a telephone call came for Beeler.
Munson and Jefflinger were in the lobby of the hotel at
the time, the center of an admiring group of spectators.

- Beeler could not be found at the time, and, as it was
said to be something important, Munson volunteered to
talk with the person at the other end of the wire, and
deliver the message to Beeler in person. He entered
the booth and talked for a few minutes.
out, a broad grin on his face.

“T’m glad I received that message instead of Beeler
himself,” laughed Munson. “I fear it would so have
_ upset the old man that he couldn’t play.”
When the nature of the message was confided to Jeff-
linger, the two burst out into*roars of laughter. One by

_ which had been intended for Beeler alone. It was unan-
imously agreed that no reference should be made of the
matter to Beeler: himself until the end of the first half
of the game. Marsden wa’ convulsed me mer riment on
being told of the message.

“We must keep him in ignorance ue it,” he said mys-
teriously. “Well, it goes still further to strengthen my
theory.”

Not the least feature of this coming conflict which ap-

volved, as exemplified in the preparatory practice of
the teams. His own team he was thoroughly familiar

~ ecuted directly under his eye, and a néw interest outside
of Wall Street had been created in the great financier’s
mind. He was able then to deduce the great hold this
vigorous game had on the millions of people in this great
_ country.
_ What to the unpracticed eye, looked like a mass of
_ wriggling, j jamming, pushing, sctambling humanity on the
field was really an intricate, well-thought-out and mathe-
matically executed play that had taken days and weeks to
rfect, and its trial was thrilling, even if it did not gain
_ inches, feet, or yards,
No one was in a better position to note the evolution
“of a system than Marsden, from the day the Goths
donned their football togs after years of absence from

  

football is nothing if not theoretical. The spirit was
“there, too, for thesémature giants would have had to

  

irit with the padded clothes on and a great game in
_ from the chaotic state occasioned by the preliminary dis- '
head coach notices him’on the field, and more than one

of the old man’s suggestions were seriously considered
nd ae ‘in the noth, scheme decided on as a

 
 

TIP. TOP WEEKLY,

of the opposing eleven.

Then he came -

one the other Goths were made recipients of ‘the news —
‘Marsden

-pealed to Marsden was the mathematical principles in-

_ with, the practice games and impromptu line-up were ex-

_ the gridiron. Every man had a different theory, and

be decrepit old men if they could not feel the football
_ sight; and Marsden, after some order had beer formed \

_ cussions, was as enthusiastic as a freshman when the

     

25

It had been pretty generally understood that the “kids,”
as the All-collegiates were called, would use a play
which had been invented by an old Yale man, and which
was fatally productive of distance when aimed at the op-
posing line. The play had been taught to Penn’s eleven
the year before, and that team finished the season plow-
ing through and over every defense organized to stop it.
Any teams with fair weight could go the length of, the
field with this play properly drilled without an end run
or.a trick play. The guards and tackles took the brunt
of the attack, and the backs piled in after with the ball
tucked in under some one’s chest, and always out of sight

champion team of that year had never lost the ball, once
they got possession of it after the kick-off. Every foot-
bali tactician in the country had puzzled his brain trying
to devise a defense that would break up this most offen-
sive play.

Scouts from the enemy’s camp had brought back word
that the “kids” were depending on the “line-back” play,
and were perfecting it to a degree that was invincible
to the faithful spies who had peeped at the secret prac-
tice.

Trescott and Beeler had taken little part in the con-
ferences, but in their own room in the quarters they had
goné over the sityation, and the two devised a scheme

of defense and offense that was to work havoc with the |
with a view to the more important _

“scrubs,”
factor, the “kids,” later on.

Few plays were given any attention during the days
that followed like the defense for the terrible “line back.”
The “scrubs” were strengthened from time to time, and
even some of the regular Goths went over to the other
side, at Beeler’s direction, to try the offense play; but so

thorough had been Beeler’s scheme perfected that the

famous “line back’’ was doomed.

At last it was the day of the great contest. The morn-
ing dawned, ominously, but nature part of the time smiled
on the garhe itself. From doubtful, cloudy weather, with
a slow, gentle, intermittent rain up to eleven o'clock, the
day grew brighter, and toward noon the sun broke out
from behind the clouds., .While he hid his rays at times

during the afternoon, rain was the last thoughf*in the
The air was clear and sharp,

minds of the spectators.
without being cold. There was no wind to interfere
with the aise a the ball or to carry it over the heads
of the backs. —

was regular “football weather.”

Cambridge was experiencing one of the greatest occa-

sions of her existence. The car lines running into the

town were so busy it seemed as if the whole country was _
_ depositing there its eager football enthusiasts. este
spectators had arrived from the West, apparently, as the :

As many

East, and the South had furnished its share.

It was difficult to determine what tim the tide of

Idiers’ Field.
The crowd was stamping impatiently at the entrances
Between one and two
o’clock the big stands filled with a rush.. The Goths —

football enthusiasts began its flow toward
when the gates were thrown open.

were on the west side, while the adherents of the “kids”
occupied the north, south, and east stands.
forty thousand “spect

seats, was present to witness the struggle between the two
greatest footbelt teams nes ever faced one an oe
He ee . ; .

} yok ci

aby

Times were plenty when the.

n Indian summér calm prevailed. ee

‘ ea
> vied
Cctoeg

Loe

More than Es
ators, the largest throng that ever.
jostled, jammed, and - jolted each other in reaching the —

      
       
       
     
    
 

  

 
    
   
    
   
     
       
         
     
     
  
 
   
26 LE eer

Around the field, the somber massing was brightened
by thousands of banners of green and gold, the colors
adopted by the Goths for this game, and the various
colors of all the other colleges represented by the mem-
bers of the All- collegiate team, borne by those who
had personal interest in the individual members, besides
a certain pride for alma mater.

Of course, Marsden occupied a prominent position.
Truth to tell, he was possessed with a thrill of excite-
ment which he had not felt for years—not even ‘on
’Change,” when his opponents had given ground, and
were on the point of being overw helmed by the current
of financial success which he had let loose as a man re-
leases the water gate of a mill dam. By his side was
Armory, in immaculate dress, peering approvingly
through his glasses, no less an interested watcher than the
magnate himself.

A sudden roar, which began at one section of the grand
stand, was taken up by the spectators in all the vast as-
semblage. The cry, “Here they come!” was heard from
thousands of throats.

The, Goths were the first to appear,
- quick, nervous,
“bull ring, They were followed closely by the “kids.”

Little time was spent in formalities. Each team prac-
ticed.a few signats and formation, after which Beeler
and Eckleston, appointed captains for the occasion, met
in midfield, and, after a Ds consultation with the offi-
_cials, a flip of the coin decided the kick-off in Eckles-
_ton’s favor. The Goths’ captain elected to defend the

wating with

south goal, although this did not give material advantage.
. The: ers was as follows:

Gorus.
Finkey (Yale), left end; Trescott (Cornell), left
, tackle; Beeler (Prin.), left guard; Starface (Carlisle),
center; Jefflinger c¥ ale), right guard; Wendell-Wendell
(Penn.), right tackle; Theo Allen Rowe (Prin.), right
end; Will Kling (Prin. ), “Ducky,” quarter back; Janney

(Harv. ), left half back ; ‘Munson Sumac right h half |

ie Breadworth (Yale), full back.

ALL-COLLE GIATE.

7 eral (Vale), left end; Cooley (Prin.), left ao
iG De Moine (Harv.), left guard; Colabach (Yale), cen-
ter; De Wolf (Prin.), right guard: Grogan (Yale), right
tackle; Hevlin | (Yale), right end; Eckleston (Chicago),
quarter. back ; Day (Col. -), left half back; Hale Sir :,
spat half back ; Howsley (Yale), full back. as

Another minute, and De Moine, left. guard for the

idee” had sent his foot against the inflated leather.
A deafening roar from the tens of thousands ‘of ‘spec-
_tators, who had been waiting in’ breathless suspense.
con great game was begun! . — ie trae

Wl - ig TO ‘BE CONCLUDED, i
: a JAPANESE INVITATION,
An invitation to dinner i in Japan begins as follows:

“T ask pardon for thus insultin ng ae . Hegeine, sent |
house is small and.

company at my house. to dinner.
ery dirty,.o ts.are rude, and you may not get any-
ming Ht t
r o’clock.’”

itor accepts the invitation he finds a.

somely furnished, baa nn

“snappy” steps, as the picadors enter the’

nope that you wall condescend 1 to be

: »
, MI
ae 4

WEEKLY.

An International Complication.

By WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE.

There were six of them, arrant little cockneys all as ~
ever bowled an over or shouted “Rule Britannia,” and
they wore their hands in their pockets and diminutive
billycock hats on the back of their heads. The first day
of their appearance at school they straggled in one after
another in single file.

Never, by any chance, did they appear together, but
always with a carefully estimated distance between them.
This was lest any one might suspect they were attached to
each other, »

The teacher congratulated himself on his new acqui-
sitions. With their rae apple cheeks and wide-open
blue eyes they looked the picture of innocence, cherubs
stepped right down from one of Fra Filippo’s paintings.

They were well up in their work, and they answered
all questions with the greatest interest and politeness. —

They-looked around with such ill-dissembled astonish-
ment on the tanned and barefoot little Southerners who —

went to make up the school that the teacher, a trans-
planted Northerner, felt a sudden sy mpathy for them in
his heart.

He suspected they. would have a thorny path to tr ead, :
and he judged them ill-fitted to cope with the hardy little
Arkansans who were to be their future playmates.
- Here were boys, he told himself, who would not play —
truant nor marbles for keeps, and he was quite sure
they would do nothing so disgraceful as fight. Ni

Te was confirmed in his good opinion of them when
he went out at recess and found them each one the
center of a group, patiently answering the questions that —
were thrown at them. To be sure, they all had their
hands in their pockets and looked perfectly at home, but —
he supposed that even the best of boys acquired some bad
habits. an

_ “Heah, you new kid! What’s you’ name ?” ee aa

It appeared that the name common to all of them
was Fairburn. The individual names they rejoiced. in

were Bill, Tom, Jack, Dick, Ed, and Reggie. i

“Where you all from?” bales
The answer to) this question was London, “ant biies
ther inquiry developed that London was in England. — ae

“England, huh!. We uns licked you all twice.

“Heow old are you?” —

“What makes you all wear a 1 hat like that?” .
“Do they all over ARE talk so dern funny as yy

‘tns do?” ie

To these and sundry Gther questions the young British-

ers furnished satisfactory and respectful answers, and

rincipal lifted up his heart in thankfulness cat this gootl
influence which had come to his school. “hy

_ He was at a loss to account for the increased

which began to disturb the schoolroom, but h

4 thought of palnuieies it to ee ey of hi
_ pupils. ee a

In point of fact, ‘they were no more anichie

clined than. some others in the schools; .
_more fertile in devising trouble for him, and they
about their mischief in a cool, businesslike

‘irritating. The sublimity of their impudence was some-
thing to admire. When detection confronted them,
were quite unflurried, and their, eee ue

MESO a belief 1 in their or 3

 
 

dab TOY

to fall from the eyes of the different teachers, and their
reports to the principal were highly interesting on that
occasion. A rather humiliating experience had come to
that gentleman himself, so that he was prepared to accept
all tales of his British hopefuls at their face value.

He was giving his monthly test examination in gram-
mar, and he noticed that William Fairburn kept looking
at his watch. Suspecting that information relative to the
matter in hand was written on the face of the watch, the
teacher insisted on seeing it. Apparent consternation took
hold of Master Fairburn.

“Please, sir, he wasn’t cheating. Please, sir, he would
rather not show the watch.”

But the more he seemed anxious to avoid it the
more was his teacher determined to see it. Finally, after
considerable delay, out, came the watch very reluctantly.
By this time the eyes of every boy in the room were
fastened on them.

_ The principal opened the watch and read there a neatly
printed slip, “Sold again.”

He reddened mightily, realizing that he had fallen into
a trap. Snapping the watch, he handed it back, and
turned away angrily amid subdued but audible titters.
Master Fairburn alone wore an expression of guileless
innocence, but from that day he was no longer pointed at
as a model by his teacher.

It was a few days later that the international difficulty
arose. Homer Green and Jimmie Jones were playing
marbles, and for the time being Luck had declared her-
_ self against Jimmie. His marbles were finding their way

with marvelous rapidity into the capacious trousers
pockets of Master Green. When the latter youth plunked
right down on his best alley taw, Jimmie could stand it
no longer.

“You fudged!” he shouted.

“Fudge nothing!” retorted his opponent, pocketing the

marble and preparing for hostilities.

“Yer did, dad gum it!” answered Jimmie Jones, danc-
> ing about defiantly.
- gimme that marble.” Le
| “Shan’t!” flung back Homer, remembering that posses-
ion is nine points of the law.

“T’ll make yer.”

‘You better try it.”

“TJ will, if yer don’t git a wiggle on yer, an’ hand it
back.”

_ They circled around each other like ruffled bantams.

‘The whole school reached the scene fast as scurrying

hens after corn. The principals continued to throw

taunts at each other according to the approved manner

of the genus small boy. _

  

abridged, stood around with their hands in’their pockets
and asked insistently every other minute:

_ “But why don’t they fight? Why don’t they fight?”
“They'll fight after a while. You don’t need to worry
‘nary a bit,” explained a native youth, who was naturally
‘tothe manner born. A ti
_ But a stranger might have been pardoned for conclud-
ing'that the combatants preferred to do the fighting with

  

  

  

their prowess. After school their friends took care to
bring them together again. Much to the astonishment of

  

continued, |

~ “Huh! I kin lick a five-acre lot full of kids like you.”

  

Rb es

WEEKLY.

“Gimme that marble! Yer better |

_ Six separate editions of John Bull, Junior, more or less

_ shouted so lustily for the young heroes was now ready to _ 4

- few minutes before a conflict is ever a cheerless time.
their mouths. The school bell found them still vaunting

ie , ; 2 tongs.
the lads from across the herring pond, the debate still |

  
  
  
    
   
   
   
   
    
    
    
    
    
     
    
   
   
     
   
    
    
   
   
   
   
    
    
   
   
   
   
   
   
     
   
   
    
    
   
   
    
   
    
   
     
       
    
     
     
    
   
   
   
   
    
    
      
     
       
   
      
    

“Well; I’m awaitin’ fer yer. Why don’t yer?”

“T will, fore I get through with yer.”

“Yes, yer will!’ jeered Jimmie.

“Huh! I dass yer to lay a hand on me.”

“An’ I double dass you.”

“Kid that will take a dare’ll steal a sheep.”

“Well, yer touch me an’ [’ll punch yer head off.”

“T don’t see yer doing it. Tha’ ain’t nuff kin o’ yourn
in Arkansaw to lick me, by gum!”

“But ain’t they going to fight?” demanded Dick Fair-
burn, with a puzzled frown on his face. “What are
they waiting for?” .

He did not understand that the subtle difference be-
tween the volunteer and the regular soldier pertained
here as in after life, and that in America fighting is not
sie? recognized business of a large per cent of the popu-
ation.

In the one country it is a vocation, in the other an
avocation, without a recognized place in the school curric-
ulum, and to be indulged in only when the occasion seems
to demand it.

“T kin lick yer with one hand tied behind me,” asserted
Jimmie stoutly, and the little friends who were.backing
him set up a derisive yell at young Green’s expense.

“An’ I kin lick you without ary hand,” retorted Mas-
ter Green, and his followers flung back the yell at Jim-
mie,

The school was evenly divided in its sympathies, be-
cause it was necessary to egg both parties on by applause
in order to secure a fight. They had come to see a fight,
and a fight they would have. aoe |

Enthusiastic friends went up and down saying scorn-
fully: “Huh! Jimmie kin lick him, all right, all right: —
You bet your boots on that,’ or the reverse, according —
as they were seconding the one or the other. Some oblig-
ing friend placed a chip on the shoulder of Jimmie Jones,
and Jimmie wriggled it off without apparently mean-
ing to do so. The chip was replaced, and he let it stay,
because he’ dared not shake it down without being sus-
pected of showing the white feather.

“There, neow. If you want to fight so bad, jes’ you
knock that chip offen my shoulder.”

Oh ain t. ited toss . ,
“No, hit don’t look like it,” jeered Jimmie, and turned
with a wavering laugh to his quondam supporters. lo
But he found no support there. Young America was

growing weary of inaction, and began to push the shy
fighters towarg each other. :

“One’s afraid and the other dassen’t,” screamed one
urchin. © ; eo ay

An instant, and a.dozen had taken up the shout. The
unfortunate youngsters who had come to make sport
for #he rest flushed at the cry, realizing that it had come
toa show-down. The fickle and heartless mob which had —

turn and rend them.

They must fight now or be the victims of countless
taunts from every tow-headed urchin in the school. Yet.
they procrastinated, for to one doubtful of the result the

They found themselves pushed toward each other, and
in another moment would have been at it hammer and
In the nick of time the weary refrain of the Fair- —
burns «dropped like oil on the troubled waters of the
Green-Jones imbroglio, this time from him of the given
name of Tom. Rate se as tee

\ : fare) ay os tn,

1

  
 
 

   
       
       
     
     
           
     
     
       
    

28

“But why don’t they fight?”

Jimmie Jones heard it, and something indescribably ir-
ritating in the tone prompted him to shift the battle to
the shoulders of young John Bull.

“T kin lick you, anyheow,” he cried.

Now, Tommie Fairburn had mistaken a natural re-
luctance to engage in battle for a craven spirit, and Jim-
mie’s backwardness had inspired him with the erroneous
opinion that there was no fight in that youth. Conse-
quently the cockney’s coat came off with businesslike
promptitude.

“All right. Will you fight now?” he asked like a flash.

“T ain’t feared to,” answered Jimmie, a good deal taken
aback at the quick acceptance.

“We'd better get over with it, then,”
cheerfully.

There was a cool air of business in the way Tommie’s
angel brothers rolled up his sleeves and prepared him for
_the fray, meanwhile tendering him matter-of-fact advice
for the better destruction of the enemy that sent a chill
of fear to.the heart of that doughty warr ior.

He heard awful references about “playing for his
claret” and his “bread basket,” with a feeling akin to
dismay.

Furthermore, he missed the usual preliminary recital
of his opponent’s intentions. It is the unknown danger
that chills the blood with fear, and this champion from
across the seas was an unknown quantity to Jimmie, who

vacillated at the edge of the circle. _

- When the English lad advanced briskly and confidently
to the center of the ring, Jimmie had to be pushed for-
_ ward. There was already a suggestion. of a whimper in
his voice, as he muttered:
 *Yeou fool with me, an’

head, off.”

A straight-armed left from the shoulder caught Master
_ Jones on the chin and stopped further parley. For half a
minute Jimmie imagined himself in the heart of a cyclone,

said Tommie

V'll) knock yo’ dog-goned

that dripped, blood freely; that is, he would have been
\ nursing it had he found time; but his whole mind was
given to “licking the E nglish kid.”

He had awakened to the joy of battle, and was giving
a very good account of ‘himself. It. dawned on Master
Fairburn that perhaps he had undertaken a contract too
large to handle. The idea struck him along with Jim-
-mie’s little brown fist just after he had requested infor-
mation as to. whether that young man hadp received all he
wanted yet.
 “Jes’ beginning,” retorted that youth chbortutia: uncon-
_sciously after the manner of a certain great naval hero
of the Revolution.
lick tes 4 *
He of the Union Jack battled manfully, but the fates
“of war had elected him a sacrifice. So long as they kept

  

  
     
    
      
     
  
 
     
    
     
 
   
 

  

  

up for him.

- For a minute lon
vorked to and fro with rhythmic. regularity, then.
ed a head blow and closed with his opponent.

 
 
   

  
 

  

  
  

as tclassed, tw

TIP TOP. WEEKLY.

_ cisively.

supposed about to descend, made one ineffectual effort to

and at the end of that time found himself nursing a nose.
had said the same thing more than a hundred years before,

into a flat or buy a bulldog. So Bronson bought

was charmed with it; she called it Joc, tied a pale bli
vl don't low to. let no dern Londoner

about him only yesterday. What's the matter with hi 1

at arm’s length he could hold his own, and perhaps some-.

how to carr things, and so on. No harm in th:
times more, but ee At es mi 9 the game ‘was y g

: - ’pered:
nger Se ‘Stood: to it, ‘ond na piston ne

‘ing would satisfy her till I got out of bed. I we

ray nsteadily | to and fro, then came to the |
und, To ng over ae over each other: like two young

  
    

: ighting of t is kind he. path:

/

ington over again, and presently Jimmie Jones emerged
triumphantly from the dust ways his foe. :

“Had nuff, eh? Had nuff?” he asked, punching Tom- --
mie with short-arm jolts.

Five young John Bulls flung themselves forward to
pull him off, protesting in chorus that fighting of that
kind was unfair, Hitting a fellow when he was down
was a thing that only cads did, It was beastly unfair,
and they would be hanged if they would stand it.

‘“Tommyrot!” pronounced the big boy of the school de-
“Tha’s the way we uns fight, an’. I ‘low you all.
will hafter fight that way neow. Hyer, keep back! Cayn’t
yeou keep back, I say?”

It appeared they could not, and presently five more —
Fairburns lay squirming on the ground, with about three —
boys apiece on top of them. ia

“We don’t ‘low to have ary techactne with this yere —
fight,” explained the big boy genially to the head on which —
he was sitting. .

“Nuff yet?” again inquired Jimmie, casually FaRriRe, ita
another short-arm jolt. :

“No, by jingo!” came in muffled tones from below.

“Reckon you got to say nuff,’ commented Jimmie |
placidly, and reached out for a great flat rock that lay —
near to hand. He held it poised aboye the head of |
Master Tommie and again inquired whether he had all he
wanted, os

That youth looked up in terror at the rich whack he

    
         
   
       
       
     
  

   
       
   
       
       
  

wriggle the other off, then ee in a small, tearful
voice: “Nuff!”
Six dejected sons of Britain got to their feet and dusted
six tweed suits and six billyenek hats in disgusted silence. |
They took themselves away disdainfully and without com-_
ment. To themselves they explained that it was against |
all civilized modes of warfare, and that only savages
would fight that way. One could not be expected to lick
people of that kind. .
This was not an original observation, for their fathers?

   
        
     
   
       
  

  

     
   
       
    
     
      
   

  

had they but known it. rs
Which oe shows that history repeats herself,
ee

A TRAINED DOG.

The Bronsons were pestered by circular chatabators
and tramps, and Mrs. Bronson said they must either

 

  

 

  
 

bulldog. It was a great, big, ugly brute, but Mrs. Brons

  
 
     
     

  

ribbon round its neck, and taught it tricks. 4
“Do you want to buy a dog?” Bronson asked Swith rs
the other day. “Joe's for sale.” ~
“Joe!” Swithers exclaimed. “Why, you were*bias ng

  

 

“Oh, well, my wife taught him some tricks, you know
course. But Jast night Mrs. B. woke me up and ‘whi
‘There’s burglars downstairs.’ Pais
~“T said ‘Nonsense: Joe would half kill them!” But noth-

the stairs quietly and peeped into the dining x

was right; there were burglars, three of them—and

“Joe! Wasn't he killing the burglars oe
“Well, no; he was too busy,” Bronson.
ess What oe re: Swithers want

  

  
    

ey ee

SNOW LODGE.

By Edward Stratemeyer.

SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING CHAPTERS.

Joe Westmore and his brother Harry, in company with their
chum, Fred Rush, tramp from their homes in Lakeport, Maine,
to Pine Island, where they camp at a place which they call Snow
Lodge. With them is an old hunter, Joel Runnell, who teaches
them how to shoot game, and aids Harry in getting some fine
snapshots with his camera, Pine Island is owned by a miserly
real-estate dealer, Hiram Skeetles, who also claims ownership
to certain land which the Westmores believe to be their own, but

documents.
a hunting expedition. After a series of interesting adventures,
several deer are killed. Skeetles enjoys the services of Dan
Marcy, the town bully, who orders the hunting party to leave
Snow Lodge. The boys resolve to defy Skeetles, and to retain
possession. During their absence their stores are thrown out
by Marcy, and Fred and Joel erect a shelter elsewhere. Mean-
time Joe and Harry, who have gone to get the dead deer, re-
main surrounded. by a pack of wolves. Joel sets off to find the
missing boys. Meantime the boys, from a tree, kill five of the
wolves and frighten off the others. On their return to camp a
blizzard strikes them. Harry, exhausted, falls, and Joe carries
him on his back. Joe meets Runnell, who gets the boys to their
shack. A heavy snow falls during the night, and on the follow-
ing day. Upon going to Snow ‘Lodge they find Skeetles and
Marcy snowbound insjde and with nothing but venison to eat.
Skeetles offers to buy provisions from them. Fred says he will
_ let Skeetles have food supplies only on condition that he and
Marcy leave the boys in possession of Snow Lodge.

CHAPTER XII.
A MIDNIGHT VISITOR.

- Hiram Skeetles’ surprise was great when Fred made
us aes and for several: eae he felt unable to
reply
- “You—er—want me to let you use this lodge, after
all?” he said slowly.
“That is what I said, Mr. Skeetles.
ane it will be a good bargain for you to make with us.’
Rut don't see it. I came here a- pene to make ye
“eave.” .
tte OW ell: ‘circumstances alter cases,’ you know. You
; didn’t expect to be caught in a blizzard, did you! ims
“No, if T had known it was going to snow like this I'd
‘ layed home.”
% We will do the lod ge no harm,” put in Joe.
is, we've already mended the roof vand the a alnt eg as
you can see.’ :
“Yes, I know; but at
“But what?” came Het Harry.
_ “Never mind now.” Hiram keetles had teen on the
point of mentioning his missing pocketbook and the
papers, but he che imself.
: tend to stay?”

tv Cv

  

 

 
 

 
 
  
 

   
 

  

_ weeks at the most.” Pe

fat do you say, Dan‘ 2” he

   
   
 
   
   
  

+ do much i in stich a fall

   

| they ¢

 
 
  
  

  
    

at ie a—a ‘good deal.”

 

WEEKLY.

to which they cannot prove title, owing to the loss of certain.
The boys put the lodge in order and then set out on”

And let me add

| gathered up some of the articles as he, spoke.

“p act”

“How long do you in- —

ealer paused, and scratched
‘said
ine a , bargain with? em, MY athe

thought much of good eating. “sent,” came from Fred.

Y? whispered Hiram Skeetles..

“Gf it around, the s snow has covered
here, I'd give a good deal to find them.”

But i a pepediane:

 

        
     
     
       
     
    
   
    
     
    
     
   
    
      
    
     
     
    
   
    
        
        
    
     
    
    
   
    
      
   
     
       
       
   

29

to eat besides deer meat. You promised to take good
care of me if I came on the trip with you.”

“Do you want to make terms?’ shouted Joe impa-
tiently.

“T reckon as how I might jest as well,” came slowly
from Skeetles. “What will ye let me have?’ he asked
cautiously.

“Whatever we can spare that you need.”

“Ye ain’t going to charge me for it, are ye?”

“No, we'll give it to you free and clear, on the condi-
tion we have already named.”

“When do you want to come to the lodge ey

“As soon as you leave it.’

“And that must be inside of a day or two,”
Fred.

“All right, I'll agree,” said Hiram Skeetles, with some-
thing like an inward groan. “When do we git them
stores! Pe,

“You can come down to our place now and get them.”

“We can’t come out by the door; we'll have to climb—
through the window,” put in Dan Marcy.

“We don’t care how you come,” answered Joe. “But
you must leave your guns behind, ” he added suddenly.

“What for?”

“Because we won't trust you with ‘them,” Ee in Fred
bluntly.

This did not please Hiram Skeetles nor the bully, but
the young hunters were firm, and were backed up by
Joel Runnell, and in the end the in. the lodge came —
forth unarmed. a

“Ye ain’t going-to play no ttick on us, are ye?” quer oe
tioned the real-estate dealer suspiciously. te

“No, we'll treat you fair and square,” said Joe. hg

They led the way to the shelter under the pines, and a
allowed those from Snow Lodge to come in over the |
snow wall to the side of the camp fire. Then allhands
looked over the stores still remaining, and Runnell an- |
nounced the articles which he thought might be spared.

“*Tain’t very much,” sniffed Hiram Skeetles. Sa

“Tt’s the best we can RO came from Joe. “Take it ana os
leave it.” qi
“Oh, we'll take it,’ put in Dan Marcy any and — ;

added ©

     
   
    
      
    
   
      
    
   
    
      
    
     
       
 
         
     
       
   
 

“Hold on!” cried Harry. “Before you touch a ‘hile
you must promise us faithfully to leave the lodge by this ef
time to-morrow.” be

“We. will leave—unless. another heavy storm “comes: 5
up,” answered Hiram Skeetles. | ie
“Tf you are not out, in case it stays clear, we shall
consider that we have the right to put you out,” said_
Joe. “These goods.pay for our lease of Snow Lodge é
for two weeks, starting from to-morrow noon.” —- 7

“All right,” growled the real-estate dealer; and then
he and Dan Marcy were allowed to depart with the stores
which. had been allotted: to them.

“T guess we've made a pretty good bargain with them,’ ~
oe, when they were alone. “Now we can move ’
into the lodge and fix it up to suit ourselves.”

“Tt was like pulling teeth to get old Skeetles to con:
“Tt gives him a regular fit
have us on the island. I must say I can’t understand it
 “T’d really like to know if those missing papers h
anything to do with it,” mused Harry. mL he & hem

  
 
 
     
 
 

 
 
     
  
 
 

   
  

 

“Did you ever hear " where that boat strucl |
Joe of Joel Runnell. oe:
    

30

“Tt seems to me it struck just south of Needle Rock,”
was the answer. “But I’m not certain. I might find out,
though.”

“Where is Needle Rock?”

“On the other shore of the island, about half a mile
from here.”

“Well, I’m going there some day and have a look
around.”

The rest of the day passed quietly. Some time later
Runnell went off on his snowshoes to see if he could
find the fourth deer—the one Harry had abandoned.
When he came back he said he had found only the head
and a few bones.

“The wolves carried off the rest,” he said. “And they
ate up those dead wolves on the main shore, too.”

“Well, I don’t want to meet any more of those crit-
ters,’ said Harry grimly.

“Nor do I,” added his brother.
is a dead one.”

“And I don’t know that he is good for much,’ laughed
Fred.

; Strange to say, with the going down of the sun the
wind came up again, a steady breeze, gradually increas-
ing to little short of a gale.

“We are going to have another wild night,

“The only good wolf

” said old

Runnell. “We’ll have to watch the fire.”
“By all means,” cried Fred. “We don’t want to burn
up.”

All hands sat up until after nine o’clock, listening to
the wind as it whistled through the trees and hurled the
snow against the shelter. Outside, the stars shone
brightly, but there was no moon.

“Hark, I hear a bark!” said Fred presently. “Can
there be a dog around?”
“Marcy owns a dog or two,” answered Joe. “But I

didn’t know he had them here.”
_ “That was the bark of a fox,’ came from Joel Run-
nell. “It’s a wonder to me we haven't heard them be-
fore.”
“Perhaps the wolves have made them keep quiet,”
gested Harry.
“More than likely, or else they have been snowed up.”
The young hunters were sleepy, and it did not take
any of them very long to sink into slumber after retir-
ing. Then Runnell fixed the fire for the night, and laid
down close to the opening of the shelter.
A half hour went by, and the fire began to die down.
_ The wind kept on increasing, and some of the stars went
under a cloud, making the night quite dark.
From the direction of Snow Lodge a form crept into
view. It was Dan Marcy, with his coat buttoned up to
his ears, and his slouch hat pulled far down over his
brow.
With cautious steps Marcy reached the wall of snow
and peered oyer into the inclosure. By the faint fire-
light he saw the feet and lower limbs of Joel Runnell,
and, listening intently, heard the old hunter snoring.
»“All asleep,” he murmured to himself.
_ Now we'll see if we can 't have the stores we want, and a
little more‘besides.”
( As silently as a cat he climbed over the snow on and:
approached the fire. Beside the large shelter was a small
one, and here rested the various traps and stores of our
pack pperielae 71%.
a Marcy had brought ith him a large but thin
; pees and this he now caren on the ground, and

sug-

ye, aes

Ee Oe

. felt sure he was on the point of being discovered.

“Good enough. ss

   
    
   
  
   
   
   
      
      

WEEKLY.

began to place in it such articles as he wanted, and which
the young hunters and old Runnell had denied him.
There was a tin of coffee and another of sugar, and a
fine, thick slice of bacon that made his mouth water.

“Tl have that bacon out of the way before they get
up,’ he told himself. “And a cup of strong coffee will
be just the thing for washing it down with.”

He had these articles and several others in the blanket,
and was on the point of making a bundle of them, when
there came a sudden and unexpected interruption. From
the top of the wall of snow came a short, sharp bark, that
caused him to jump.

“A dog!” he thought. “I didn’t know they had one.”
And then, as the bark was repeated, he leaped back in
alarm,

It was only a fox, but Marcy did not know this, and

Th

      
       
       
     
     
       
     
     
         
   
     
       
     
         
     
    

“Shut up!” he whispered. “Shut up, do you hear?”
And then, as the fox barked again, he ran for the other
side of the wall of snow and began to climb to the top.

The barking of the fox aroused both Runnell and
Harry, and each leaped up, reaching for his gun as he
did so.

“What is it?” asked the young hunter.

“A fox—and he’s pretty close,” was the answer.
“Reckon as how I had best give him a shot to scare him

off. 99

Running outside, Runnell looked around, but in the —
semidarkness could see but little. ee high, he fired
his gun.‘ As he did this he heard a yell some distance
away. \

“Don’t shoot me! Don’t shoot!” ag

‘““Who’s there?” he demanded, but this question was 4
not answered.

The discharging of the gun aroused the others of the
party, and all came rushing out to the fireside.

“What did you fire at?” asked Joe. > oan

“Well, I thought I fired after a fox,” came dryly from |
old Runnell. “But I kind of reckon he was a two-legged
one.”

“Do you mean some person was around here?”

“Exactly.”

“But I heard a fox bark,” came from Harry. ue

“So did I, lad, and after I fired I heard somebody et

yell ‘Don’t shoot me!’ ’Pears to me it was Dan Marcy’ Ba, ;
pole too.”

“What could have brought him over this time Es
night?” asked Fred.

“Here is what brought him over!’ ejaculated fais
who had stirred up the camp fire. And he pointed to
the blanket and the things lying in it.

Joe gave a low whistle.

‘Going to rob us, eh? It’s It
“Well, that is what I. ca down

        
         
   
       
     
       
     
     
     
     
     
     
   
       
       
       
    

   
   
  
 

Fred. “And after we let : them, hav ‘ hose other anges f
too! We ought to go over’ af and h fe it out with them
right now.’ :

“Don’t do anything hasty,” !
“T reckon Marcy feels mean
the act.”

“Oh, he hasn’t any ecto,”
a wolf in man’s clothing.”

‘The matter was talked over for some tind and it, was,
decided to let the affair rest until morning. wih

“And then we can all give ey and eee: a piece
of our mind,” said Joe. ?

ed Harry. “He's

       
     
 

   
 

    

 

“Do you think they’ll come back?” asked Fred.

“Not a bit of it,’ answered old Runnell.

And satisfied of this, all turned in again to get what
sleep they could ere the sun carne up.

   
     

CHAPTER XIII.
BACK’ TO

  

SNOW: LODGE,

 

But the excitement of that night was not yet at an

end.

» As mentioned before, the wind had increased steadily,
until it was blowing as fiercely as it had during the
blizzard. It tore through the tall pines and other trees,
- swaying them viciously, and causing them to creak. and
groan as if in pain. It hurled the snow in long drifts,
and sent every living creature for miles around into
cover.

But the young hunters and old Runnell were too tired
to listen to the wind, and it was not until an extra heavy

_ plast caused one of the trees directly back of the shelter
_ to split apart, that Runnell and Fred awoke.

~ . “What.a wind!” cried the stout youth.
it blow so’in my whole life!”

“Thought I heard.a tree snap,” returned the old hunter.
“Listen !”

The others were now awake, and all listened as di-
rected. Then came another gust, and all felt the back
end of the shelter move as'the roots of the biggest. of
_ the pines were loosened.

_ “Creation! I think the tree is coming down! ejacu-
lated Joe. “Perhaps we had better :

“Run, boys, run!” shouted Runnell, leaping up.
for your lives!”

They needed no second warhing, but leaped from the
shelter with all the alacrity of. which they were capable.
They did not stop at the camp fire, but, led by Harry,
te the wall of snow and scattered to the right and
sewe. «

    
 
  
   
 
 
 
  
   
   

“Never heard

    
   
  
  
  
   

 

  

“Run

          
  

   
 
  

a Se
a a ee

   
 

of wind brought down, not one tree, ‘but. two, smashing
the shelter flat, and sending the. buining’ sticks of the
. fite in all directions. ‘The end of one limb Hit Fred, and
_ hurled him on his. breast, and old Runnell had his’ left
ear badly clipped.

“Oh, my! -Sa—save me!” spluttered. F red:
tree off of me, somebody!”

Joe and Harry ran forward, and assisted. him to arise.

  
   
  
 

“Take the

   
  
  

of the pine branches.
“I’m all right,” was the answering cry. “Got my ear
retty badly scratched, but that don’t count in such a

  
   
  
 

thers.
The two piiten trees. had bisuendd a third, so they did
dare to go into the branches to resctte their traps and

  

    

  
 
 
    

traps-—” began. he shed, with a ouak, ‘the
‘ee came down.
€ moment it was partly extinguished.

  

burned up.’

 
  

he

TIP=TOP.. WEEKLY.

once more.
‘ Harry prepared the morning meal the others chopped
their way through the tree branches to where their traps

They were not an. instant too. soon, for the next gust

_remarked Joel Runnell. .

Then they yelled to old Runnell, who. was in the midst

mash-up as this.” ‘And then the old hunter joined the

tempt to steal our stores,”

The branches lying over the camp fire soon.
j a then the ohlg began to blaze mp like huge,

his hit the fire a heavy blow, and,

‘Now it's safe enotigh to go in!” came from old Run-
. “Put out the blaze with snow, hoya, or everything with snow, and the smoke hung’ thick under the roof.
y came closer, and Hous to pile in iy the snow

, things again,” said Joe. , “But never mind, I am glad
“the ame) hemes! ee hath, ee what was fet of oy ae

} oe are eo

wall for that purpose. By working steadily for five
minutes, they got the fire under control, and then went in
and kicked out, what little remained.

“Well, this is the worst yet!’ groaned Fred, after the
excitement was over. ‘‘Here we are, homeless, in the
middle of the night, and with the thermometer about ten
degrees below nothing at all.”

“We can be thankful that we are to have the lodge
to-morrow,” came from Harry. “It would be, no fun
building another shelter in such a wind as this.”

“And we can be thankful, too, that the fire didn’t get
the best of us. Our stores, traps, guns, and everything
might have been burned up, and then we would have been
worse off than old Skeetles and Dan Marcy.”

“It’s almost morning,” said old Runnell. “I'll try to
get out a few blankets, and then we can make ourselves
as comfortable as possible among the tree branches.” — ,

This was agreed to, and with an ax that Joe picked
up; they cut out a small shelter, throwing some of the
pine brush down as,a flooring, and placing the rest over
their heads. This made a’place not as comfortable as
that. which had been wrecked, but something which, as
Harr 7 declared, “was a heap sight better than nothing
at all.”

With-the coming up of the sun the wind died down,
and by eight o'clock all of the party felt quite comfortable
A fire was built in a safe place, and while

and stores lay, half buried in the snow. Only a small
portion of their things had suffered injury, which grati-
fied them exceedingly. Even Harry’s camera remained.
intact.

“We might as well move over to the lodge at once,’
said Fred, while they were eating. “There is no sense —
in staying out in the cold, and, besides, we want to tell
Marcy what we think of him before he goes away.”

“T think one of us had best stay here and watch the
things,” said Joe.

Lots were cast, and it fell to Harry to remain at the!
spot.
and journeyed to the vicinity of Snow Lodge, a tiresome —
walk, for the snow now lay in all sorts of drifts. :

“We won't be able to do much hunting for a few days,”

puts something of a crust on the snow.
shoe walking will be much easier.’

When they came in sight of Snow Lodge they were |
surprised to find the door and the one window wide
open.
ing that Hiram Skeetles and Dan Marcy had oe not a
great while before. _

hey are gone!”’ burst out Harry.
“They were afraid we would kick up a row over the at-~
returned Joe. i

“Tt was mean of themi to let the snow come in through
the door and the window,’ was old Runnell’s comment.
“But neither of them know the meaning of fairness.” oe

Going inside the lodge they saw that all was in con-
fusion and very dirty. Skeetles and Marcy had had an
early breakfast, and had left the bones and other scraps,
lying where they dropped. The fire had been put out

“It will take us the best part of a day to straighten

L ae stigy sou kee aie aad

 

A little later the others put on their snowshoes

“We'll have to wait till the sun
' Then snow-—

There were tracks around the doorway, show-

      
    
 
      
  
  
     
     
      
    
   
       
      

22
“They'll have a rough journey to Lakeport or to Brook-
field,” said Joel Runnell.
“Do you suppose they’ll walk the whole distance?”
“It isn’t likely. They probably came as far as Paley’s
farm on horseback.”

By noontime they had shifted their traps and stores
once more, and cut some additional firewood. The sleep-
ing room ‘of the lodge was also cleaned out, and fresh
boughs placed in the bunks, and directly after dinner
they cleaned up the living room, until it looked almost as
tidy as a room at home.

“My daughter Cora ought to see this,” said old Run-
nell. vt would please her. She thinks a hunters’ camp
is the dirtiest place on earth.”

“T wish she was here,” said Joe. “Then she could keep
house for us, and we’d feel quite at home.” '

“She can’t come, lad. When I am away she stays with

bc her Aunt Mary Case, who needs help. “But if she was
here, she could do some fine cooking for.us, I can tell
you ‘that.”

After the general cleaning up, the whole party were

- content to-rest. It was pleasant to sit in front of the
- genial fire, especially after the sun had sunk behind the
trees on the western shore of the island.

They had taken account of the stores on hand, and

found they would have to economize with certain things
to make them last even ten days.

“But we won’t starve,” said old Runnell. ‘‘We have

small game and fish.”

“TI feel safer in the lodge,” said Fred, on retiring.

ree. “It would be a hard matter for the wolves or foxes to
get at us here.”

“How about snakes ?””’ inated Harry.

“Ugh! don’t mention them! I can feel that thing
crawling on me yet!’ And the stout youth gave a shiver.

Now, that they had gotten rid of their enemies the

lads felt particularly light-hearted, and the mention of

_ the snake set Harry to thinking. Unknown to Fred, he
called Joe to one side, and both procured a bit of rope
from one of the sleds, and to this tied two long threads,
one at each end./

Fred occupied a bunk between that of Joe and that of.
Harry, and the two threads were run across the stout
youth’s resting place in stich a fashion that the bit of
heavy rope could be moved back and forth at will.

Soon Fred was sleeping, and then the two others threw

the bit of rope on his breast and began to move it back
- and forth.’ No sooner had it touched Fred’s face than
‘ he roused up with a start.
| “Oh!” he cried, and tried to sit up, when the rope
glided over his breast and his shoulder, “A snake! A
~~ $nake! Oh, I’m a dead boy!” And he leaped up, yelling
like a wild Indian. Then the rope got twisted between
- his legs, and he danced around mote madly than ever. |
“What’s the matter with you?” asked Harry, sitting
up. At a signal Joe had let go of his thread/and his
brother had jerked the rope out of sight.
ir] “A snake! It crawled right over my face!”
_, “Where is it?” questioned old Runnell, and grabbed,
up his gun.
The lantern was lit, and also a torch, and they looked
around; but, of course, no reptile could be found.
- + “T guess you were dreaming,” said Joe innocently.
“You were talking about that other snake, you know.”

_ “I—I don’t think ee answered Fred sheepishly.

=

 

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

plenty of deer meat, and we can get a good supply of.

- fad in delicacies—the snail—for the breakfast table.

“discussion was Solomon and his wisdom. A little girl was

 

yeaa MED, nscale

    
  
  
  
   
  

“There is no snake here,” said Joel Runnell, after a
long examination. “Joe must be right; you’ dreamed it,
Fred.”

“Well, if I did, that dream was mighty lifelike,” said
Fred.

He took the lantern and examined his bunk closely.
But nothing was wrong, and after a while he followed
the others and laid down again.

Harry and Joe waited a reasonable length of time, and
then Harry crawled forth to adjust the rope and threads
once more. Again the rope slid over Fred’s face, and
once more he set up a howl.

“It’s a snake! I felt it again!” he yelled.
here in the bunk!”

“Step on him!” cried old Runnell, and got his gun a
second time.

Harry tried to jerk the rope away, but before he could 7
do so Fred came down on it with his bare foot. Then |
the threads broke, and the rope remained on the floor |
in front of the bunk, while Fred leaped away, as if
he had stepped on a hot plate. |

Lantern in one hand and gun in the other, Joel Run-
nell ran to kill the snake. But as he spotted the object
on the floor he gave a loud laugh.

“Call that a snake!” he roared.
rope.”

“Aa rope?’ repeated Fred. He bent forward. 4}
“Well, I never!” Then he caught sight of the broken -
threads, and like a flash realized the joke that had been |
played on him. “Oh, you—you rascals!” he cried, and) |
catching up the rope, he went first for Harry, and then sl
Joe, and belabored them soundly. Both were laughing, —
and this made Fred really angry. .

“All right, laugh all you please!’ ’ he burst out suddenly.
“It was a mean thing to do. To-morrow I’m going to
leave you and go home.”

And, without a word more, he retired for the night.
TO BE CONTINUED,
reer Oden
TWO OF A KIND.

Mr. Barker, who claims to be at home in all that per-
tains to good cooking, was sitting on the hotel piazza one
evening lately, explaining to his friends, Lawyer Thomp- —
son and Colonel Robb, the manner of preparing the latest |

“He’s right 4 2

   
        
   
     
   
     
   
   
    
       
 
   
    

“It’s only a bit of

       
     
         
    
     
   
   
   
     
   
     
    
      
     
 
   

'

Thompson was interested, but Robb was quiet and —
seemed drowsy. Suddenly he brightened up. /

“T saw three of them playing. marbles in front of the
post office this morning,” he remarked. a

“Why, what’s the matter with you, chia ” asked
Mr, Barker. “I’m talking about snails.”

“Well, I’m talking, about messenger boys,”
colonel. “Go on with your conversation.”

Le
THE STORY OF SOLOMON. | ae
It happened in Sunday school, and the sabieid air

 
     
    
        
     
       
 
      
    
     
      
      
    
      
   

said Hie | : |

 

  

asked to tell: the story of Solomon, and the women who
quarreled over a child. This was her version: “Solomon
was a very wise man. One day two women went to him
quarreling aboyt a baby. One woman said: ‘This is my
child,’ and the other woman said, ‘No, this is my child’
But Solomon spoke up and said, ‘No, no, ladies, do not
quarrel. Give me my sword, and I will sae ‘Ean ot

him, so reach of you can have. cit ie eka
 

 
ALL, OF THE BACK NUMBERS OF

41P TOP WEEBRLY

—_—

1—Dick Merriwell in the Ring.
2—F rank Merriwell’s New Idea.
3—F rank Merriwell's Trouble.
4—F rank Merriwell’s Pupils.
5—Dick Merriwell’s Satisfaction.
6—Dick Merriwell’s Discernment.
(

8—I'rank Merriwell’s New Boy.
9—F rank Merriwell’s Mode.
0O—Frank Merriwell’s Aids.
31—Die k Merriwell’s Visit.
22—Dick Merriwell's Retaliation.
23—Dick Merriwell’s Rival.

SRS RS Re eed aS bok bt

CLOTOT OVE Ovo orven oor

25—F rank Merriwell’s Fast Nine.
26—Frank Merriwell’s

Field.
527—Dick Merriwell’s Reprisal.
528—Dick Merriwell Dared.
529—Dick Merriwell’s Dismay.
5: 30—F rank Merriwell’s Son.
531—F rank Merriwell’s Old F gs
ee 3% ne rank Merriwell’s House I

CUT ON oO

tote te

ke
Athletic 612—Frank

598—Dick Merriwell’s Influence.

599—F rank Merriwell’s Worst Boy.

600—I’rank Merriwell’s Annoyance.
601—lFrank Merriwell’s Restraint,
602—Dick Merriwell Held Back.
603—Dick Merriwell in the Line.

—Dick Merriwell's Friendly Hand 604—Dick Merriwell’s Drop Kick.

605—F rank Merriwell’s Air Voyage.
606—Frank Merriwell’s Auto Chase.
607—F rank Merriwell’s Captive.
608—Dick Merriwell’s Value.
609—Dick Merriwell Doped.
610—Dick Merriwell’s Belief.

24 —F rank Merriwell’s Young Crew. 611—F rank Merriwell in the Mar- oon ee Merriwell’s Dandies.

Merriwell’s
Fortune.

6138—Frank Merriwell on Top.

314—Dick Merriwell’s Trip West.

Fight for

615—Dick Merriwell’s Predicament.

616—Dick Merriwell in Mystery

Valley.

arty 617—F rank Merriwell’s Proposition.

533—Dick Merriwell's Summer Team 618—F rank Merriwell Perplexed.

5 4s] Jick Merriwell’s Demand.
B 37—Frank Merriwell’s Proposal.
538—Frank Merriwell’s Spook-
hunters.
539—Dick Merriwell’s Cheek.
540—Dick Merriwell's Sacrifice.
541—Dick Merriwell’s Heart.
542—TI’rank Merriwell’s New Auto.
543—Frank Merriwell’s Pride.
544—F'rank Merriwell’s
Winners.
545—Dick Merriwell’s Lead.
546—Dick Merriwell’s Influence.
547—Dick Merriwell’s Top Notch.
548—Frank Merriwell’s Kids.
549—F rank Merriwell’s Kodakers.
550—Dick Merriwell, Freshman.
551—Dick Merriwell’s Progress.
552—I Jick Merriwell, Half-back.
553—Dick Mer riwell’s Resentment.
554—Dick Me ‘rriwell Repaid.

555—Dick Merriw ell’s Stay ing, Power

556—Dick Merriwell’s “‘Push.’

557—Dick Merriwell’s Running, °

558—Dick Merriwell’s Joke.

559—Dick Merriwell’s Seven.
560—Dick Merriwell’s Partner,
561—Dick Merriwell in the Tank.

562—F rank Merriwell’s Captive.

563—F rank Merriwell’s Trailing.

564—F rank Merriwell’s Talisman.

565—F rank Merriwell’s Horse.

566—F rank Merriwell’s Intrusion.

567—F rank Merriwell’s Bluff.

568—Dick Merriwell’s Regret.

569—Dick Merriwell’s Silent Work.

Bir Jick Merriwell's Arm.

71—Dick Merriwell’s Skill.

572—1 yick Merriwell’s Magnetism.
573—Dick Merriwell’s System.
| ick Merriwell's Salvation.
575—Dick Merriwell's Twirling.

576—Dick Merriwell’s Party.

577—Dick Merriwell’s Backers.
578—Dick Merriwell’s Coach.
579—Dick Merriwell’s Bingle.
580—Dick Merriwell’s Hurdling.
581—Dick Merriwell’s Best Work.
582—Dick Merriwell’s Respite.
583—Dick Merriwell’s Disad
584—Dick Merriwell Beset.
586—Dick Merriwell’s Distrust.
587—Dick Merriwell, Lion Tamer.
588—Dick Merriwell’s Camp-site.
589—Dick Merriwell’s Debt.
590—Dick Merriwell’s Camp Mates.
591—Dick Merriwell’s Draw.

Baa Rik Merriwell’s Disapproval.

93—Dick Merriwell’s Mastery.
ood ple k Merriwell’s Warm Work.
595—Dick Merriwell’s

Squeeze.”
596—Dick Merriwell’s Vanishing.

597—Dick Merriwell Adrift.

vantage.

619—F rank Merriwell’s Suspicion,

620—Dick Merriwell’s Gallantry.
621—Dick Merriwell’s Condition.
622—Dick Merriwell’s Stanchness.
623—Dick Merriwell’s Match.
624—Frank Merriwell’s Hard Case.

625—Frank Merriwell’s Helper.

626—F rank Merriwell’s Doubts.
627—F rank Merriwell’s ““Phenom.”

Young 628—Dick Merriwell’s Stand.

629—Dick Merriwell’s Circle.
630—Dick Merriwell’s Reach.
631—Dick Merriwell’s Money.
632—Dick Merriwell Watched.
633—Dick Merriwell Doubted.
634—Dick Merriwell’s Distrust.
635—Dick Merriwell’s Risk.

636—F rank Merriwell’s Favorite.
637—F rank Merriwell’s Young
Clippers.
639—Frank Merriwell’s

Breakers.
640—Dick Merriwell’s Shoulder.
641—Dick Merriwell’s Desperate

Work.
642—Dick Merriwell’s Example.

Record

643—Dick Merriwell at Gale’s Ferry.

644—Dick Merriwell’s Inspiration.
645—Dick Merriwell’s Shooting.
646—Dick Merriwell in the Wilds.
647—Dick Merriwell’s Red Comrade.
648—F rank Merriwell’s Ranch.
649—Frank Merriwell in the Saddle,
650—F rank Merriwell’s Brand.
651—F rank Merriwell’s Red Guide.
652—Dick Merriwell’s Rival.
653—Dick Merriwell’s Strength.
654—Dick Merriwell’s Secret Work,
655—Dick Merriwell’s Way.
656—Frank Merriwell’s Red Visitor.
657—Frank Merriwell’s Rope.
658—Frank Merriwell’s Lesson.
659—Frank Merriwell’s Protection.
660—Dick Merriwell’s Reputation.
661—Dick Merriwell’s Motto.
662—Dick Merriwell’s Restraint.
663—Dick Merriwell’s Ginger.
664—Dick Merriwell’s Driving.
665—Dick Merriwell’s Good Cheer.
666—F rank Merriwell’s Theory.
667—Frank Merriwell’s Diplomacy.
668—Frank Merriwell’s
agement.
669—Frank Merriwell’s Great Work.
670—Dick Merriwell's Mind.
671—Dick Merriwell’s “Dip.”
672—Dick Merriwell’s Rally.
673—Dick Merriwell’s Flier.
674—F rank Merriwell’s Bullets.
675—F rank Merriwell’s Cut Off.

“Double 676—F rank Merriwell’s Ranch Boss.

677—Dick Merriwell’s Equal.
678—Dick Merriwell's Development.
679—Dick Merriwell’s Eye.

Encour-

THAT CAN NOW BE SUPPLIED

749—Dick Merriwell’s “Wing.”
750—Dick Merriwell’s Sky Chase.
751—Dick Merriwell’s Pick-ups.
752—Dick Merriwell on the Rocking R
753—Dick Merriwell’s Penetration.
754—Dick Merriwell’s Intuition.
755—Dick Merriwell’s Vantage.

680—F rank
681—F rank

Merriwell’s Zest.
Merriwell’s Patience.
682—F rank Merriwell’s Pupil.
683—Frank Merriwell’s Fighters.
684—Dick Merriwell at the ‘‘Meet.”’
685—Dick Merriwell’s Protest.
686—Dick Merriwell in the

756—Dick Merriwell’s Advice.

} thon.
687—Dick Merriwell’s Colors. 757—Dick Merriwell’s Rescue.
758—Dick Merriwell, American.

688—Dick Merriwell, Driver. 7
689—Dick Merriwell on the Deep. 759—Dick Merriwell’s Understand-
690—Dick Merriwell in the North ing.

Woods. 760—Dick Merriwell, Tutor.
761—Dick Merriwell’s Quandary.
762—Dick Merriwell on the Boards.
763—Dick Merriwell, Peacemaker.
764—F rank Merriwell’s Sway.
765—Frank Merriwell’s Compre-

hension.

766—F rank Merriwell’s

Acrobat.
767—Frank Merriwell’s Tact.
768—Frank Merriwell’s Unknown.
769—F rank Merriwell’s Acuteness,
770—F rank Merriwell’s Young

Canadian.

71—Frank Merriwell’s Coward.
72—Frank Merriwell’s Perplexity.
738—Frank Merriwell’s Interven-
tion.
4—Frank Merriwell’s Daring Deed
5—Frank Merriwell’ Ss Succor.

Mara-

692—Dick Merriwell’s Skyscooter.
6938—Dick Merriwell the
Mountains.
694—Dick Merriwell in Utah.
695—Dick Merriwell’s Bluff.
696—Dick Merriwell in the Saddle.
697—Dick Merriwell’s Ranch Friends
atuammi dea Merriwell at Phantom
wake.
699—Frank Merriwell’s Hold-back.
700—F rank Merriwell’s Lively Lads.
701—F rank 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 Merriwell’s Master Mind.
711—Dick Merriwell’s Dander.
2—Dick Merriwell’s Hope.
3—Dick Merriwell’s Standard.
4—Dick Merriwell’s Sympathy.
5—Dick Merriwell in Lumber
Land.
6—F rank Merriwell’s Fairness.
7—Frank Merriwell’s Pledge.
8—F rank omy riwell, the ‘Man of
ri

in Elk

Young

‘
‘
76—F rank Merriwell’s Wit.
77—Frank Merriwell’s Loyalty.
78—F rank Merriwell’s Bold Play.
79—Frank Merriwell’s Insight. .
80—Frank Merriwell’s Guile.
81—F rank Merriwell’s Campaign.
782—Frank Merriwell in the Na-
tional Forest,
783—Frank Merriwell’s Tenacity.
784—Dick Merriwell’s Self-sacrifice.
T85—Dick Merriwell’s Close Shave.
786—Dick Merriwell’s Perception.
787—Dick Merriwell’s Mysterious
Disappearance,
788—Dick Merriwell’s
Work.
789—Dick Merriwell’s Proof.
790——Dick Merriwell’s Brain Work.
791—Dick Merriwell’s Queer Case,
792—Dick Merriwell, Navigator.
7938—Dick Metriwell’s Good Fellow-

1
1.
1
1
1
1
1

Gi
719—Fr se Merriwell’s. Return Detective
ow.
720—F rank Merriwell’s Quest.
721—F rank Merriwell’s Ingots.
722—F rank Merriwell’s Assistance.
7238—Frank Merriwell at the

Throttle.

724—Frank Merriwell, the Always ship.
ie ite 794—Dick Merriwell’s Fun.

25—IF'r

Ready.
795—Dick Merriwell's Commence-

ape Merriwell in Diamond

4an

726—Frank "Méneiveil’s Desperate
Chance.

727—Frank Merriwell’s Black
ror.

728—Frank Merriwell Again on the
Slab.

wor rank Merriwell’s Hard Game.

30—F rank Merriwell’s Six-in-hand.
U 31—F rank Merriwell’s Duplicate.
732—I'r Merriwell on Rattle-

rank
snake Ranch.
83—Frank Merriwell’s Sure Hand. 803—Dick Merriwell’s Coolness.
84—Frank Merriwell’s Treasure 804—Dick Merriwell’s Reliance.
Map. 805—Dick Merriwell’s College Mate.
85—Frank Merriwell, Prince of 806—Dick Merriwell’s Young
the Rope. Pitcher.
736—Dick Merriwell, Captain of 807—Dick Merriwell’s Pr odding.
the Varsity. 808—Frank Merriwell’s Boy.
37—Dick Merriwell’s Control. 809—F1 fag Merriwell’s Interfer-
38—Dick Merriwell’s Back Stop. e.
39—Dick Merriwell’s -Masked ‘En- 810—Fy1 ane Merriwell’s
0

Ht:

796-—Dick- “Merriwell at Montauk
Point.

797—Dick Merriwell, Mediator.

798—Dick Merriwell’s Decision.

799—Dick Merriwell on the Great
Lakes.

800—Dick  Merriwell Caught Nap-

Ter-

ping.
801—Dick Merriwell in the Copper
Country.
802—Dick Merriwell Strapped.

Ye i

Young

—e -]

emy. Warriors.

—Dick Merriwell’s Motor Car. 811—Frank Merriwell’s Appraisal.
—Dick Merriw ell’s Hot Pursuit. 812—Frank Merriwell’s Forgiveness
—Dick Merriwell at Forest Lake. 8183—Frank Merriwell’s Lads.
—Dick Merriwell in Court. 814—F rank Merriwell’s Young
4—Dick Merriwell’s Silence. Aviators.

5—Dick Merriwell’s Dog. 815—Frank Merriwell’s Hot-head.
46—Dick Merriwell’s Subterfuge. 816—Dick Merriwell, Diplomat.
7—Dick Merriwell’s Enigma. 817—Dick Merriwell in Panama.
8—Dick Merriwell Defeated. 818—Dick Merriwell’s Perseverance.

1
2
43

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