P [OP WEEKLY

An Ideal Publication For The American Youth

 

 

 

“—_

DICK MERRIWELL'S
BATTLE FOR THE BLUE

PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK

Omaha Oliver bounded out on the diamond straight up to Dick Merriwell,
wey ity. his arms and Bes teuiating wy -

 
 
 

 

 

 

 

——

wos PLAY BALL AND WIN A UNIFORM OUTFIT FOR YOUR NINE.
See Rules for Tie Top Eleventh Annual Baseball Tournament on Page 32.

  

 

 

 

=¥ An ideal publication

 

 

 

 

 

 

Issued Weekly.
Copyright, 1912, by STREET & SMITH.

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Dick Merriwell’s Battle for the Blue;

Or, THE YALE NINE AT WEST POINT.

By BURT L. STANDISH. :

CHAPTER I.
ON \ THE WAY TO WEST POINT.

The northbound train on the West Shore line bore a
lively company of Yale men on their way to West Point
with the Yale nine.

The members of the nine and substitutes, and the
Yale coaches with Dick Merriwell at their head, occu-
pied a parlor car, in which were a few other persons,
two of whom were in the trim gray uniform of the
United States Military Academy.

One of the two was Lieutenant Arthur Ball Clifford—
he always mouthed it in full—who was a subpaymaster.
The name of the young fellow with him, though he was
introduced by Clifford, no one caught. ;

“So you’re on your way to capture West Point?’
said Clifford.

“We expect to have the defenders of the old academy
badly worried about this time to-morrow,’ Dick Mer-
riwell returned, with a smile.

“We've got a good nine this year,’ urged Clifford,
“and we’re on our own grounds.”

“To be on its own grounds is an advantage that West
Point has every year, if it is an advantage.”

Bill Brady drew himself up lazily, and laughed.

“Oh, it’s a regular prison pen over there, you know,”
he said. “The first two years of a cadet’s life he isn’t

permitted to leave at all, and even after that the amount
of freedom he gets isn’t going to hurt him.”

“1 don’t think I'd want to go to West Point,” one
ef the Yale men declared.

 

err

Clifford smiled indulgently.

“A good West Point man doesn’t look at it that way.
And you must admit that discipline is necessary to make
good soldiers. The West Pointer is in training for a
life of discipline. He leaves West Point as a lieuten-
ant, arid it is expected that he will be a commander

of men. No man can readily exact obedience who has
not learned obedience in a rather stern school. You
will have to admit that the results have-been good. For

nearly all the great fighting commanders have come out
of West Point.”

The young cadet, who was understood to be a first
classman, and so wotild soon be a lieutenant, said noth-
ing. He had a dark face and dark eyes, and looked sul-
len, or bored.

What little Dick Merriwell had caught of the intro-
duction indicated that the youth hailed from the South.
Judged by his looks, he was. probably of French or
Spanish extraction, Dick decided. r

Not choosing to talk, the cadet was left out of the
circle of conversation; but he listened to what was being —
said, with keen glances flashed at the Yale men now ~
and then, though much of the time he stared out of the

. window at the passing landscape.

The Yale fellows were asking questions of Clifford.

“West Point has a vocabulary of its own, and a. slang
of its own,” Clifford explained. “Our young friend here
is now a first classman, for instance. At Yale he would
be called a senior. A man in his first year at West
Point is called a plebe--who you would call a freshman,

 

  
 

2 ayer

When in his second year he is a yearling—that is, he
has been’ at West Point a year, and is the same as a

sophomore. In the third, or junior year, he is a second
classman. In the fourth, or senior year, he is a first
classman. Then he graduates and becomes a lieutenant,

with a position already open for him, and a salary. So
you see there are advantages. When a fellow gradu-
ates from an ordinary college he has to go out and hustle
for a position and a salary—«unless he was wise when
he chose his parents, and selected rich ones.”

“And he also gets paid while he is in West Point,”
said Dick.

“Yes, that’s right.
he is going through West Point.
enough.”

Gee f’

He has a certain allowance while
It’s not big, but it’s

gurgled a certain member of the nine, who was
always known to be “hard-up.” “I think [ll resign from
Yale and become a plebe. Think what it would mean
to have a parental government furnishing you board and
clothing and cigarette money.”

“Not cigarette money. No smoking at West Point.”

“What ?”

“No stoking at West Point.”

“Wow! Then I won't be a plebe;
application,”

“But don't any of the West Point fellows smoke?”
was asked seriously.

Clifford laughed, and evaded this by asking if smok-
ing was not forbidden in the nine, and the crew, and
among all men at Yale who were training for athletic
contests. ;

“You see the reason for the prohibition at West Point.
Smoking isn’t considered good for a young fellow, even
at Yale.”

“But don’t any of the West Point fellows smoke?” the
questioner repeated.

“Was there ever a rule of any school that wasn’t
broken—at times. Yes, West Point men ‘have been
caught smoking at times, and have been punishied for it.
‘They are made to do extra guard duty, and things they
don’t like. And Yale men who break the rules when in
training get. some hot reprimands, if not worse.”

Clifford was a fountain of information, on which
they drew, as the train fled northward.

“Are the cadets still in barracks?” Merriwell asked.

“They've just gone into their summer camp—this
wéek. Of course, the B. J. fellows are in the barracks.”

“B. J.?” some one queried.

“Before June—before the June examinations. They
are the new men, and, of course, they -have to be kept
in the barracks.”

“Why i ???

“To avoid hazing trouble, of course. Hazing is for-
bidden at West Point, but the yearlings will always find
a way to annoy the B. J. men if they’re brought in con-
tact with them; so they’te kept separated. “When the
cadets go into summer camp, the new men are kept in
the barracks. Still, the plebe-crawling yearlings——-”

Clifford stopped, with the thought that perhaps. he
Was saying too much.

“Plebe-crawling yearlings? That sounds funny !”

“Plebe-crawling is hazing,” said Clifford. “You would
_ call them freshman-hazing sophomores.” He laughed
again. “Oh, those plebe crawlers worry the beasts a
whole lot. It’s simply awful—or it used to be. The

I withdraw my

WEEKLY.

authorities have got things pretty well in hand now,
though.”

Then Clifford had to explain oe “beasts.”

“The néw cadets. They’re called ‘beasts, and w hen
the barracks are filled with them, th at is the ‘menagerie,’
You'll have to stay long enough at West Point to gx et the
hang of these terms. You'll find them interesting.”

At West Point station, a strong contingent of West
Point men were in waiting with carriages, ready to wel-
come their guests and rivals.

Dick Merriwell was one of the last to leave the parlor
car.

The vestibule doors of the car were open on both
sides, and as he was about to swing off, following his
friends, he heard a cry of pain.

Looking out on the opposite side, he saw that a tramp
had crawled from under the car, or had been dragged
out, and was being booted by an indignant brakeman.

ut the astonishing thing was that the tramp was
Omaha Oliver, who no longer than the week before had
rendered the Yale nine signal service at New Haven.

Merriwell swung down promptly.

“That will do,” he said to the brakeman.
the use of being rough on-the fellow?”

Omaha Oliver, on the point of flight, stopped and
turned about. Disheveled and dust-covered, he was a
“sight.” But instantly his face cracked open in a smile.

“That you, Merriwell? Well, ye’re jest in time to
save me life. This ’ere feller ain’t got no soul, he ain’t.
I had t’ git here, didn’t [?—t’ see that game to-morrer;
so I straddled’ de trucks, not havin’ any proper ticket.
I lef’ my diamond-buckled. pocketbook at home on de
pianner, and———”’

“Clear out,’ shouted the brakeman,
worse!”

“Merriwell’s a friend o’ mine. Ain’t ye, Merriwell?
We was thicker’n thieves in New Haven on’y las’ week.
That’s right, ain’t it?) So o’ course I had t’ see dat
game here to-morrer; and I rid de trucks from New
Yawk—right under de car he was in.”

“Perhaps he wi ill pay carfare for you, then,” the brake-
man snarled. 3ut I don’t think he will. Clear out, or
Pll have you pulled,”

Omaha Oliver skipped to safety on the embankment.

The brakeman swung back into the vestibule.

“You took a risk,’ said Dick to Omaha. “I'd advise
you not to try the trucks again. Some fine day you're
going to get killed on the trucks. We'll have a great
game to-morrow, but you paid too much to ‘see it.”

“Can I git in, d’ye reckon?” the tramp queried.

Dick looked at him dubiously,

“Well, I don’t know. Your appearance is against you,
you'll have to admit. Where were you going?”

“Right here—didn’t I say it? Right here, to see dat
game o’ baseball! Since them stunts in New Haven las’
week, I ’most consider myself a member 0’ the Yale
nine.”

Merriwell threw him a dollar, then climbed back
through the vestibule and dropped down among his
friends.

“Omaha Oliver is on the other side,” he said to Brady.
“He rode the trucks from New York to get here to see
the game, and got kicked by the brakeman for his pains.”

“That tramp | ?? cried Brady.

The train was pulled out, and the carriages stood
ready.

“What's

6

or you'll get

 

     

 

 

 

 

Sa ee a ce.

 
TIF “tGP

They were in the carriages with the West Point men
by the time the last car passed by. They now saw
Omaha Oliver standing on the embankment. He lifted
his tattered hat and made a profound bow.

“Here’s to good ole Yale!” he cried.
down!”

Then the carriages whirled away, leaving him there
_ waving his hat.
Up the slope and along the road leading toward the

“Drink ’er

group of buildings constituting the military academy,

the Yale boys passed swiftly with their rivals and friends;

then along the highway, until they entered the academy

grounds and went on toward the hotel.

CHAPTER II.
A QUEER PAIR.

When the carriages had passed from sight, Omaha
Oliver descended to the railroad track, shook his fist
in the direction of the receding train, then crossed the
tracks and took his way toward the highway.

He had noted a peculiar thing while he stood looking
at the carriages as they were driven off, and the pecu-
 liarity of it drew him on.

An organ grinder, as tattered in appearance as Oliver
himself, had been standing at the end of the station
building when the train drew up, but had run round
toward the other end of it as soon as he saw the Yale
men dropping to the platform out of the cars.
Omaha Oliver had seen the organ grinder reach the
ae end of the stafion and cower there, as if trying
to get out of sight of the men who had left the train.

“Wot’s the meanin’?” Oliver asked himself. ©

Now the organ grinder was hastening from the sta-
tion toward the highway, in which direction Omaha
; Oliver followed at a pace which indicated that he would
‘soon overtake the fellow.

“Wot skeered der dago?” he mused.
runs, he has got a reason. Havin’ had a lot o’ ex-
perience in dat line, I know! I betchy he don’t go up
to de ’cademy.”

The dago gained the highway, which led to Highland

‘alls. He had not gone far, however, before he sat

own, resting himself and his hand organ against a
planted cannon.

There are two lines of planted cannon at that point,

ne on each side of the highway; set like fenceposts,

ith | the muzzles of the antiquated guns buried in ‘the

The tramp, swung along the road.
Seeing him coming, the organ grinder began to bet
lifting his hand organ,
| on’t trouble yerself,” cried the’ tramp) “Settin’
’n walkin’ any day. So stay where y’ are,”
The hand-organ man dropped back. +
‘he tramp dropped down near him. —
Much doin’ in de music line?” the tramp questioned.

seen ye at der station. I come in on de train—
nderside of it. You seen them Yale men? .That’s
owd. They’re goin’ to knock de cover off de
t spheroid to-morrer.
ae I expect to.”
lian gave him a sharp look.
all,” he said. “I do not know mucha base-t-

“When a man.

If you're here, you

WEEKLY.

“Well, if you was an American you’d know all about
it—you’d jest haf to,’ declared the tramp in a tone of
superiority. ‘Them fellers are the ae men of Yale
College, an’ to-morrer they’re goin’ t’ play ag’inst the
nine of the West Point Academy. Git that? The West
Point Academy is that set 0’ buildin’s beyond the high
ground up there—along this ‘ere road. See? There’s:
where they makes American soldiers. Not that I like
soldiersy I don’t. I don’t like ’em fer the same reason
that I don’t like policemen. Catch on?”

The Italian nodded assent, while his black’ eyes.
searched the dust- covered face of the tramp.

“Eet is ver’ interesting.”

“You bet it is, when a hot game is on. Oh, say, that’s
when y’ are living’. Wish-h!—the ball comes in, over
de wire Bang !—de batter hits it right on de trade-
mark. Wow! She’s goin’; she’s doin’ de aéroplane
stunt... Oh, say—dat’s when y're livin’.. Dat’s der time

~when de rich man an’ de poor man are on der same level

—all are crazy. a

“Eet is ver’ interesting.”

“You bet ’tis. Oh, I got t’ see dat game to-morrer!
It'll be hot stuff.”

The Italian gave his shoulders a deprecatory shrug.

“You know them player—are acquaint?” he asked.

“Oh, am I?” Omaha Oliver took off his tattered hat
and fanned himself with it. “Am ‘I? Hear me warble
that I am. - Did ye see de one wot come across de car

when the brakeman was dustin’ my clo’es fer me, and

spoke t’ me?—but, 0’ course, y’ didn’t, fer you was then.
behind the station. Well, that was Merriwell—-Dick Mer-
riwel, head coach at Yale; biggest man outside de office
of de president o’ de United States. Why, him an’ me
are pals. Y’ ought to seen me an’ him chummin’. to-—
gether las’ week in New Haven. You missed it, not
bein’ in New Haven las’ week, when Yale played the
Carlisle Indians. Well, y’ did. Oh, say
“T tink I have heard of New Haven.”
“Shorely. Everybody has.”
“This beeg game, it is to-mor’?” ;
“To-morrer afternoon, on the West Point baseball
grounds.” . ie
“How is eet can be seu . :
“That’s wot I’ve got t’ find out fer myself. Yoosu-
ally I witness a game by peekin’ trough a knothole in de
ball-ground fence.”
The Italian yawned, drew his hat down over his eyes,
and squirmed toward .the other side of the cannon.
ot ts ver’ interesting. But I t’ink I vill arts me some
sleep now.’
Omaha Oliver looked at him ota
“Wow! You can think 0’ sleepin’ ; when baseball tal
is goin’ on! You'll never make a fan.” | 8
a hope not; 1 am no fan maker. What I make ¢ e
music,”
He curled down: with his hat over his eV ese? tN4
Omaha Oliver had not satisfied his curiosity. Hi
had meant to edge round to the point of asking th
Italian why he had shown fright when he beheld th
baseball players, and had got out of sight pend
station, ;
“Well, I’ll.ask him later. He’s going to the town, <
will be playin’ his music box there. I can’t miss ’im.
fer me, I got t’ connect soon with some vittles.”

The Italian began to snore, and the tr

and set off eget baa toad.

 
Es
Ph
‘fea

 

5. 3
iby

4 TIP TOP

He was still wondering why the man had shown such
sudden and apparently needless fright.

A few hundred yards below, after a turn at a corner,
coming out on rising ground, he looked back, and to his
amazement discovered that the Italian was walking along
the highway in the direction of the academy buildings.

After rubbing his eyes and looking again, Omaha
Oliver said:

“Wow! What’s dat mean?
music box?”

An’ where has he left his

CHAPTER III.
THE SUGGESTIVE LETTER.
His curiosity overcoming his hunger, the tramp
hasttened back along the highway. When he reached
the cannon again, the Italian was out of sight. So was
the hand organ, though the Italian had not taken it with
him.

Omaha Oliver looked about for it.

“He didn’t take it wit’ him. So he left it.
easy. But where?”

As it seemed certain that the owner of the hand organ
had not concealed it anywhere between that point and
the station, the tramp began a search on the opposite
side of the highway; and, as this led him down a slope,
he discovered here and there indications that the Italian
had been there, in little abrasions of the surface and occa-
sionally heel marks.

At the bottom of the slope was a pile of brush, and
beyond that, some distance beyond, clumps of bushes.
The brush pile had not been disturbed, and the tramp
passed on to the bushes.

In the second one, tucked out of sight, the hand
organ nestled.

“Now, wot d’ye know about dat?’ he gasped.

He parted the bushes and looked at the organ. Then
he retreated, climbed to the top of a rock, of which there
were a number near, and started off in the direction of
the academy. There was a whirl of dust in the highway.

An automobile came in sight, and Omaha Oliver
ducked out of sight behind the rock.

When the auto had gone on, in the direction of High-
land Falls, the tramp took another look.

“Nuttin’ doin’. De dago has gone to de abagemy.
I wonder what fer?’

Then he went back to the clump of bushes and the

Dat’s

hand organ.

Unable to resist the temptation to drag the hand
organ from its hiding place, the tramp pulled it out,
having no respect for the rights of property. In thus
extricating it, he let it fall, and it came down with a
crash against a stone.

“Busted it open,” he grumbled.
He had not done that, though he seemed to have

' started a panel of the wood near the top of the box.

Setting it up, he began to turn the handle.
The squeaky and out-of-date hand organ began to
grind out “The Wearing of the Green,” with such shrill

piping that the sound of it frightened the tramp and

caused him to desist.

“Say, I’d like to steal dis,” he mused.

It seemed to him that it would make begging easier,
“FWand-outs” might be forthcoming more readily if he
stopped before a farmer’s kitchen and turned on the
music.

WEEKLY.

“But I'd haf to kerry the ting round wit’ me all the
time, an’ dat wouldn’t be no joke.”

Then his monkeylike propensity to pry into every-
thing~caused him to pull at the bit. of wood that had
been shaken loose. at the top of the box when the hand
organ tumbled against the stone.

Digging his stubby finger nails into it, he pulled, and
the piece .of wood slid, so that he saw the piece had not
been broken, but only dislocated.

heel?

He looked at it; then tipped the hand organ sideways.
The wooden strip came out still farther.

Then the tramp removed it entirely.
narrow slit in the top of the box.

Breaking a stick from a near-by branch, he prodded
with it into the opening.

Then a strip of wood like a narrow shelf fell open
outwardly, revealing a much larger space, in which rested
an envelope, and a roll of money.

“Wow! Wot d’ ye know ’bout dat?”

. The tramp’s fingers clutched the bills eagerly.

“Der chenuine stuff,” he breathed, as if he could not
believe the evidence of his senses. ‘“‘Am | dreamin’?
If I am, please don’t wake me up.”

He counted the money—nearly a hundred dollars, in
bills—tucked it into his pocket, and began an eager
search for more. But there was no more in the little
drawer. He now turned to the envelope, and held it
between his eyes and the light, as if he hoped to see
through it.

“Money?” he whispered. ‘“Wouldn’t dat jar ye? But
it'd be too good luck. I don’t want t’ fall dead wit’
heart disease.”

Then he tore open the envelope, ripping it ruthlessly
across the end. A letter was revealed, which he could
not read, for it was written in Spanish.

“Dago langwitch,” he muttered,-staring at it.

Then he saw that, though the letters seemed oddly
formed, he could read a part of it, in spots; the date
line was clear enough. It was West Point, with a
date of a few days before.

“Wot’s dat mean? Dis dago gits a letter from West
Point. And he is—lemme see where he is when he gits
it.” He turned to the postmarks on the envelope. ‘He
is in New Yawk, and de letter is sent from West Point.
Dat’s plain as de dust on me face. An’ dis ’ere letter is
signed Say, dem are queer flourishes! Der guy
wot writ it must be in trainin’ for a writin’ master,”
He spelled over the name, whispering the letters. Dats
right—Eugenio Duranzo.”

He now attacked the body of the letter.

“Nuttin’ doin’ fer me. I ain’t up in dago.
Merriwell. Is dat right? Yes—Merriwell.
shake de cherries on yer grandmudder’s bonnet?
—dat’s Merriwell.”

_He searched through the letter for anything else that
might seem plain to him.

“Too bad dat my education in furrin’ langwitches was
neglected when I went to college; when | wanted to. study

There was a

 

Wot’s dis?
Don’t dat
Sure

dago, de dago professor jumped his board bill an’ got

stuck in jail; and now I’m up ag’inst it.”

He scratched his puzzled head.

“Well, dat’s Merriwell, anyhow. An’ dat’s West Point.
An’ dere’s- de name at ‘de bottom. An’ on der enyel-
OP’ th

 

He turned to it.

 

 

 
 

TIP Ae,

“Diego Lipiana. Dat’s dago shore—it says it. Mister
Diega Lipiana—dat’s de owner of de hand organ—he
gits dis letter in New Yawk from a man in West Point,
an’ Merriwell’s name is init. Chee! Say:

He scratched his frowsy head again.

“Ts dat why de dago is here? Maybe so. It'shore
looks it. If I can pass dis on to Dick Merriwell, maybe
I'll git some more money—from him. Wow! Dis is my
lucky day.”

He returned the letter to its envelope, after observ-
ing that it had been opened once and resealed, then
stowed it carefully in a pocket, after making sure that
there was no hole in the pocket, and that the wad of
money already thrust into it was safe.

He was trembling with thief fright, and feared the
return of the owner of the hand organ,

But he searched the drawer again; then tipped the
hand organ over and shook it violently. Nothing re-
warded his efforts.

Then he looked up the highway. And to make sure
that he was still safe, he climbed to the top of a rock.

“Nuttin’ doin’ yet; but you kin bet he won't
be gone long.. Wonder how he connected wit’ so much
wealt’? Dis hand-organ bizness must be er reg’lar gold
mine.”

He wanted to take the hand’organ into the town, and
go from door to door playing it; the idea struck his
imagination. But he knew it would not do.

“Der dago would shore sick der police on me, an’ I’d
lose all his money an’ go to jail. I guess I won’t try
dat—’twouldn’t be healt’y. But—chee!”

Putting the hand organ together, he buried it again
in the clump of bushes. Then he made his trembling
way toward the road, feeling in his pocket now and
then to make sure he really had the money and the letter.
The money part of it seemed too good to be true.

He did not enter the highway, however, but kept along
at one side; so that if the dago returned soon he would
not be readily visible,

When he had passed beyond the turn in the highway,
he ventured out, and hurried rapidly on in the direc-

 

 

CHAPTER IV.

DICK MERRIWELL PUZZLED.

The men of West Point had shown themselves equal .

to the best traditions of the famous academy on the Hud-
son in their treatment of their guests.

There had been drives about the grounds; the points
of interest had been inspected and descanted on, and
the dinner that evening had been an event in itself.

The fact the dinner was on so generous a scale that
some of the Yale men jestingly declared that the West

- Pointers were trying to win the baseball game in ad-

vance, by rendering the Yale nine unfit to play, through
overeating.
But, as a matter of fact, the members of the Yale

nine, and those of the West Point nine, had been care-

ful—not forgetting for an instant that they were in
training and restricted as to diet as well as other matters.

A reception followed the dinner, which permitted many
introductions and made it possible for the Yale men
and the West Point men to become better acquainted.
It had not ended, when a letter was brought in to

Dick Merriwell by one of the hotel attendants.

 

 

WEEKLY. :

The letter had been torn open across the end, and the
address on it bore the name of Diego Lipiana.

“This isn’t for me?’ said Dick.

“T was told to hand it to you, sir.

“You're sure about it?”

“T am sure, sir. It came into the office, and the man
who sent it in said it was to be given to you. I didn’t
see him, but I don’t think it is a joke.”

“Tt looks it, anyhow,” said Dick.

But he opened the envelope, and drew out the letter
which Omaha Oliver had found: secreted in the hand
organ. He saw at a glance that it was written in Span-
ish.

From the West Point date line, Dick’s eye went to the
bottom of the letter.

If he had seen almost any other name than the one
which was there, he would have passed the letter back
with the declaration that a mistake had been made and .
the letter was not intended for him. But that name—
Eugenid Duranzo.

It was the name of a man who was dead, in far-off
Valdivia; the name of his bitter enemy there, who had
tried to assassinate him at the time of the unfortunate
Valdivian revolution.

Dick’s eyes went over the letter with the swiftness
of a flash after that. And soon they fastened on the
name that had caught the attention of Omaha Oliver—
the name of Merriwell himself.

“Tt begins to seem that this is for me after all,” said
Dick.

“That is what I was told, sir.”

Dick arose and retreated to a window, not for any light
the window could give him, for it was dark outside;
but to get out of the crush and read the letter without
any betrayal of himself; for he had a sudden convic-
tion that the thing was important.

Twice he»read the letter over—once hastily, the sec-
ond time slowly. And this is a translation of what he
found: 3

99

was the declaration.

_ “Dreco Liprana: I think I can arrange to get leave
so that in a few days I can go to New York, and then
I can see you and we can have a long talk. I will bring ©
all the money I can get my hands on. I have but a

little now, but I think I can get some more; if in no

other way, I can borrow it. The news about Merriwell
is interesting. From what you say, and from what I
myself know, he is deserving of death. But a man
is a fool who will put his head in the noose of the hang-
man, Still, if he should come my way, I fear I should
be tempted to do sornething desperate. If you read the
sporting news in the papers, you will have seen that his
college team is to play here soon. I hope’ that he will
keep away from me at that time, or that I can manage
to be ottt of here. It is hard to get away. But I will
de my best to see you. And I will bring the money.
I shall not try to write a long letter.- So I sign myself,
“EuGENIO DuRANzo,”

Dick Merriwell read this standing under one of the

brilliant lights, and he knew that more than one pair @

of eyes was on' him.

There were some things in the letter that he did not
at all understand, and others which it suggested that

were dark enough, and he was puzzled. But nothing of

 

  

 
TIP TOP” WEEKLY.

all this showed in Iris face as he tucked the letter into its
envelope and turned to step back to the attendant who
had brought it in.

: Ly ou did not see the man who brought this—you say ?”

“No, sir. The letter came into the office.”

“I think, then, I will go with you down to the office.
Did you understand that an answer was expected?”

“I didn’t know, sir. I thought there might be one.’

Dick excused himself to the young fellows with whom
he had been talking, and went down.

The small lobby was well filled with men—Yale men
and West Point cadets, and through this crowd he made
his way to the desk.

“A letter was brought to me a moment ago.” He
held it out in his hand. “Can you tell-me who sent it
in, as I should like to meet him?”

“Pelton brought that in,” said the clerk, speaking to an
attendant. “Go out and get him!”

Felton came, in answer to the summons.

“The man who brought the letter seemed to be a
tramp,” he said. “I was standing outside by the door

when he came up to me. He said he had a letter that
belonged to Dick Merriwell, and asked if I could get it
to him; and he gave me that letter, which I turned over
to the clerk. When I went outside again he was gone.”
“He didn’t tell you his name?’
“No, sir. I didn’t talk with him. When I went back,
and I saw he hadn’t remained, I supposed there was no
answer.”

“The man must have been Omaha Oliver,” said Dick.
“It couldn’t have been any one else. And I should like
to see him very much; to learn how he came by this let-
ter. It isn’t addressed to me, but it has my name in it,
ad”

But he stopped. It occurred to him that perhaps it
would be well to withhold disclosures until he had fur-
ther knowledge himself. /

Men were sent outside to look for the tramp. But
they came back without locating him. ©

Dick went out himself, and had no better luck.

“You know the names of a good many of the men
here at the academy,” he said at last to the cadet who
had been piloting him round. “Do you recall any one
by the name of Eugenio Duranzo?”

“Duranzo? Why, yes, sir; that’s a. first. classman.”

The cadet swung about, and called to another cadet,

sho was passing.

“Simmons, you were down at the station when the

in came in with the men from Yale. Wasn't Eugenio

Juranzo on that train? He went to New York, you

Bhp Lieutenant Clifford.”
“hat’s right,” said Simmons. “He was on the train,
oh came up in one of the carriages with Clifford.”
peo Merriwell: “Then I must have met him
. I met Clifford, and there was a cadet with

said Simmons. .

“The very | efiow, a | es
De you know ste ing about him?” s
vell, much; I’ve met him, and seen, him

eee 44 Se ley e Bg BFS ;

“And he has been here four years!’ said Merriwell,
as if musing. “It’s singular.”

There was, of course, no reply to this, with the excep-
tion of a stare of noncomprehension; it could not seem
singular to the cadets that Eugenio Duranzo had been
four years at West Point, or nearly that.

“What I mean,” said Dick, recalling himself, and lift-
ing his head, “is that the name comes to me as a strange
coincidence; for I once knew a man by that name, and
the man is now dead.”

“He might have been a relative of Duranzo. We can
send out for Duranzo, and have him brought here, if

you like.”

“Not now,” said Dick, hesitating. “Perhaps later.”
He went back into the hotel, and upstairs. But instead
of at once joining the circle he had deserted, he called
aside one of the Yale coaches. Jim Phillips was with the

coach, and they came up to Merriwell together.

“What do you think of this?” said Dick, taking them
to one side. ;

Then he showed them the letter, told how it had come ~
into his hands, and gave them a free translation of its —
contents. oe

“Perhaps that doesn’t hit you as being as queer as
it does me; and then again,” he said, “perhaps it does. —
Some time ago Porfirio Duranzo tried to kill me, you
know, in New Haven. My name is mentioned in a
strange way in this letter. I don’t know whether those
two things go together or not. I wish you could tell me.”

He did not need to acquaint his Yale friends with —

the facts concerning himself and Eugenio Duranzo, the

‘man who was now dead; but who, while Dick was in ~
they knew these
acts already, had known them ever since the Srenips Ti ce

« New Haven.

Valdivia, had tried to assassinate him;

Porfirio Duranzo had escaped from New Haven BS,
he had escaped from Washington City a short time be-_
fore that, after trying there to assassinate the pA rest,
minister. oY

Both attempts—that against the Valdivian minister to
the United States and that against Dick Merriwell—had
been inspired by an insane hatred, which was the result —
of events taking place in the: Valdivian revolution, whose _
failure had left Dick Merriwell minus his fortune, and
indinectly had led him to become universal coach at Yale.

“If we could only get hold of that tramp!” said Jim
Phillips anxiously, as they talked over the situation, |
“If he sent the letter in to you, Mr. Merriwell, he is the
man who can explain where it came from. Tl go, out
and see if I can’t find him.”

Jim Phillips spent some time looking for the tramp
making numerous inquiries.

Some of the answers he received ageing evasive, an
led him to think tha® the tramp had been made to le
the academy, grounds by cadets who did not nadletstae
that he was waiting to hear from Merriwell; or tha
the tramp’s story had not been believed by nity cadet
and they had forced him to go beget; the lines mark

the boundaries. —

When Phillips returned 6. “report. his fosleines
ierviscel had made up his mind to seek an int

_ with the cadet who bongs the AseeE name of E
Duranzo.

_ Having made his

 
 

dae) Re

that had been set at his disposal in the hotel and waited
there alone ;* for Duranzo was to be sent to him.

Dick’s ideas weré hazy, and he did not try to put them
in coherent shape while he awaited the coming of Eugenio
Duranzo. But he had not long ‘to wait. Duranzo came
directly to the room and was admitted. He looked a bit
startled.

“Vou wish to see me, sir?” he said.

Dick gave him a chair, after saying he had something
to show him and wanted a few words with him.

“J did not catch your name when you were introduced
to us on the train, and for that [ must apologize,” Dick
said. “The train was roaring along and pitching round
curves, and I suppose the noise it was making was the
reason.”

“Tt may be, sir,” said the cadet. “But Lieutenant Clif-
ford doesn’t always speak plainly. Yet it was of no
consequence.”

He had very dark eyes, and he watched Dick nerv-
ously.

Dick took out the letter.

“This letter came to me in a strange way not long
ago,” he said. “It was brought to me by one of the
hotel men, who said that a man outside had sent it in
to the office with the request that it be given to me. I
looked for that man, and could not, find him. As the
letter seems to have been written by you, it occurred to
me that I ought to give it to you. I suppose the reason
it was sent in to me is that my name, or at least the
name Merriwell, is mentioned in it.”

The young cadet’s dark face became suddenly a pasty
yellow and his black eyes grew bigger and brighter. He
seemed almost to recoil at sight of the letter. Then
he took it with a hand that shook.

“Read it,” said Dick quietly, noting the cadet’s hesita-
tion.

The paper rustled as Duranzo pulled it from the en-
velope. So great was his agitation, that his hands shook.

“You wrote it?’ Dick asked quietly, studying the
cadet’s face.

Struggling with his emotions, Duranzo seemed about
to deny it. ‘Then perhaps he saw how. useless that
would be. | ‘

“Ah, yes,” he admitted. “That is f

The perspiration was starting out on his yellowed fore-
head.

“1 don’t think I can discuss this,”..he. said.
doesn’t mean what it says. That is tg say
choked, and groped. ‘“Yes—what I’ mean is, this is a—
this is a cipher. Aha! You see! That is it. It says one
thing, and it means another.” :

“My name is in it,’ Dick reminded.

“Tt is a part of the cipher. It came to me—that is, the
name came to me ” He seemed about to declare
that the name had come to him by chance; then recog-
nized the fact that this would not do, if the name was
part of a cipher; for a cipher is a thing thought out
and agreed on beforehand between the users of it.
“What I mean is—I thought of it in that way long ago,
when the baseball schedule was announced for West
Point and I heard you were the Yale coach; yes, that
is what I mean. Aha! It is very simple.”

 

“But it

 

 

 

*This hotel is on the academy grounds. It accommodates the
many people who have occasion to visit West Point—visitors, as
well as the parents and the friends of the cadets. And some of

the academy instructors make it their home.

 

Bree

* chooses.”

   

WEEKLY. 7

“Very simple,” said Dick dryly. “Then you won't
mind: telling me what the letter means?”

The agitated cadet pulled himself together with an
effort.

‘No; I cannot do that. I used a cipher because I did
not want it known—what I had written here. And for
that same reason, too, I put it in Spanish. Not many
Americans read Spanish.”

“The man to whom it was addressed—Diego Lipiana?”

“A-—a friend of mine, in New York.”

“Down in the Italian section, in a very poor quarter,
I note. There is where your friend lives!”

“V-yes; that is right.” He was rising, anxious to get
out of the room. “I—TI think I will go now "

“Not yet!” Dick said. “The name of Eugenio- Du-
ranzo is very familiar to me; but the man whom [ know
by that name lived in Valdivia. You are not from Val-
divia ?”’

Eugenio Duranzo shrank back, dropping into his chair
again. 2

“Oh, no—no!” he gasped.

“You do not know anything about Valdivia?”

“]T have only heard of it; only heard of it, sir.

“And you never knew this Eugenio Duranzo, who
lived in Valdivia?”

“N-no,-sir; that is to say
of him.” ; d

He was rising. again.

“T will take that letter,’ said Dick.

 

»

I mean I never heard

 

“It came to me;

and until I can find the man who sent it to me, it Séems:

 

that I ought to retain it, even though you

But Eugenio Duranzo had flung the door open, and
now went bounding down the stairs, taking the letter
with him, —

“That’s queer,” thought Dick. “The whole thing is
queer! He wrote that letter, and then he lied about
it. What he said about it being in cipher was surely all
a lie, I wonder +

He stepped to the head of the stairs in the hall, and
looked down.

He was about to follow Duranzo. Then he changed
his mind, and went back into the room, where he walked
about, turning the matter over in his mind.

“T wonder,” he said, completing the unfinished thought,
“if Diego Lipiana is not Porfirio Duranzo?

 

ing, after he. skipped from New Haven,”

CHAPTER V.
A DEEP MYSTERY.

Out in the academy grounds an hour later, Dick Merri-
well met Jim Phillips, who had been making a second

and more thorough. hunt for Omaha Oliver, yet had-

been as unsuccessful as before. The time was now close

on midnight.

“From what I can pick up,” said Phillips, “I think the.

tramp was scared off the academy grounds, and. feared
to return. I went down to the boundary line, in the
direction of Highland Falls, and have just got back from
there. ;

Falls road while I was out there.
first classman,

I suppose, being a
he can leave the grounds when he

Porfhrio
probably jumped back to New York, and went into hid-—

What I want to report particularly, is that I - eG
am sure Eugenio Duranzo passed down the Highlan1

rt pte
bet”

 
  
 
    
   
  
 
   
  
  
   
   
 
    
   
   
 
   
   
   
 
   
   
    

Tie tur

“T don’t know about that—the rules are pretty strict.
But a first classman, soon to graduate, is not tied down
hard and fast.”

“IT may be suspecting him without reason. But he
- seemed to skulk along. . The light isn’t good down there,
and [ may have thought that without any justification.
But he certainly left the grounds.

They strolled about, out by the summer camp, and to
the Fort Clinton ditch, and back again, talking of what
was to both a mystery.

“JT think we’ll have to turn in,” said Dick at last.
“As coach, I’m not doing my duty by you, nor by my-
self. We've got that game to play to-morrow.”
Phillips touched him on the arm with a soft tug.
 “There’s the fellow now,” he whispered. “He passed
under that light off there.”

Eugenio Duranzo, if it was Eugenio Duranzo, dropped
out of sight for a while; then he was seen again, this
time walking in the direction of Grant Hall.
Merriwell and Phillips moved slowly in that direction.
Then they missed him again. It was easy to play hide-
-and-seek in the half darkness, where certain spots were
aglow with light, and others dark as pockets.

So they turned back again, and after a while stopped
on the edge of the cavalry plain, where the snowy tents
were located. After that they passed on toward the
_ Hudson River. The call of a sentry floated out:

“Twelve o’clock, and all’s well!”

Apparently the sleeping camp was being as closely
guarded as if the cadets occupying it were soldiers in
the country of an enemy.

- Merriwell and Phillips stood looking down at the river
from the heights. The lights of a passing river steamer
flashed and they heard the noise of her engines.

As they turned back, they noticed that a man had
stepped in behind the library building.

“A cadet out late and dying for a smoke,” said Mer-
riwell. “That is my guess. He is going to risk a ciga-
rette, no matter what may be the consequences.”

_ They had stopped on seeing this man. A match
flickered.

The ‘momentary Bash. as the light was applied to a cig-

9)

  

 
 

‘ace of Eugenio Duranzo.

What’s that mean?” Phillips whispered.
“Nothing—except that. you’ re getting nervous.
zo is risking a smoke.” .
think he is the fellow that is nervous. He has been
ering round like an ane ghost.. A while ago
was down on the Highland Falls road; and I believe
has been all over the grounds. Has he been search-
y for that tramp, I wonder?” |
I wonder! But we, too, have been wandering round
-unquiet ghosts, remember.”
hen the cadet had apparently satisfied his craving
stolen smoke, he came out and disappeared once
ie the direction of some other Si on

  

Du-

 
 

 
 
  

 
 

 
 

 
 

his Faiveoe Baers don't st i is roaming round
There is no sense in following him. It’s
and it’s foolish. Still——’

rif d slowly i in the direction taken by Bagenid

   
 

 

retfe, shone in the face of the smoker; and it was the

 

ognize the place, not being familiar with the location.

th Merriwell and Lene, oe ay

 

and was about to enter, after drawing out and striking

side of the man on the floor.

} See.

part.

  

WEEKLY.

ought to be in the hotel and asleep. But Merriwell knew,
at least, that if he went to bed he could not sleep.

When the voice of the sentry announced that the hour _
of one oclock had arrived, Merriwell drew himself up E f.
with a jerk. *

“Come,” he said. ' ‘This won’t do!’ i

They had walked by a number of buildings, and i
now retraced their steps, proceeding in the direction of =. }
the hotel. me

In one of the buildings sounded a cry, and the ncise
of a struggle; then there was the sound of a fall. 7

Toward this building they turned hastily.

At the corner, as they were hurrying round to reach
the side door, a running man plumped into Merriwell’s
arms.

“Hello!” said Dick.

The man slumped forward with a moan.

“tere, Phillips!”

Jim Phillips jumped to Dick’s assistance. But the
man was recovering. He straightened and pushed away
the hands that sought to assist him.

The struggle had brought all three under an electric

 

 

 

light, and Dick and Phillips saw that the man was 9

Eugenio Duranzo. ; ele
Dick’s hands were wet, and he discovered that they 13:

were covered with blood. \

“You're hurt,” he said to Duranzo, startled. “You're  § |
bleeding. I’ve got my hands covered with blood, and a
you
But Duranzo tore away and sluniged on. a
Instead of following him, Dick turned toward the build-
ing again. He did not know the meaning of ihe blood,
nor the meaning of the sounds he and Phillips had
heard. But something was wrong, and he sent forth a
cry for help that brought a number of men running.

Cadets popped out of the summer tents, too. They a
could be heard asking what the call for help meant.

Dick was at the door of the building with Phillips, —

 

 

 

 
       
    

a match. He recalled that this building had shown a
light not long before; but at the moment he did not rec-

       
   
 

“What's happened?” cried a voice. eas
“T don’t know,” said Dick. “We heard a cry for help %
in here. Then we butted against a man, who left blood — f
on my hands.” ay
He held the matcl before him, and entered the’ room, ©
finding that the door was open.
The man who had spoken, an officer, fukanee basta”
past him and pressed an electric button, flooding the
place suddenly with light. Then Dick saw a man on ©
the floor, with a knife lying close by him; “and Sper ee.
him the door of a steel safe, Open, ©
“Lieutenant Clifford!” cried the officer, leaping to the

 
   
   
     
 
  
 
   
 

 

 

      
  
       
      
       

 

 
   
 
 

Dick closed the door behind him, in the: Fades se de
eral men who had run up in answer to his call;
he set his back against it. He and Jim. Phillips
the officer mentioned were with the man on the |

 
 

    
      
    
 
 

And’ Dick HHONEHE. he understood the

    

eee was the ‘young subpaytiaets 2

  
 

itt TOF

met on the train coming from New York, and there had
been robbery, and perhaps worse. And if so
He checked his thought, and looked at the blood on
his hands.
“Get me some water—it’s right over there,”
requested, kneeling by the prostrate man.
; At Dick’s nod, Jim Phillips jumped to obey, while Dick
ce still stood guarding the door. Outside some one was
_. hammering on the door.

The water was sprinkled in the face of the man on
the floor.

“T thought he had been stabbed, when I saw the knife,”
the officer declared. “But I think he must have been
4. knocked down. I don’t find any wound. Ah! That's
- the thing. This is what he needs.”

He showered the water again.

The man returrled to consciousness ith a gasp.

“You're all right, Clifford! Don’t worry! You're all

 

the officer

 

 

 

fess) Tight.”
ha “The—the money!” gasped Clifford.
--__-He drew himself up with a convulsive jerk, twisted

his head round and looked at the safe.

ee “Tt’s gone!” he shouted. “I had a large sum of money
-  —which I brought to-day from New York. What a
fool—what a fool I was! But I thought——”
“Don’t worry yourself, Clifford.”
“But it’s gone—don’t you see that? I was a foof—an
) idiot. When so many men are heré who dre strangers
‘| and——”__ He tried to rise to his feet.
“T had the money and I thought I would look it over,
to see that it was all right, before I put it in the safe.
_ And then the door opened suddenly and I was assaulted.
I got out my knife, and tried to make a fight. But
——” He glared at the door where Dick stood. “He
must have got out by the door. Why isn’t some one
pursuing him? I tried to defend myself with my knife.
But he hit me on the head. And then I ;
He got to his feet now, staggering.
_ The door was not locked, and Dick was pushed before
i“ as the men outside threw their strength against it and
_ forced it inward.
tioned wildly. :
__ The young paymaster had more than a thousand dol-
: “lars, he said, and he had been looking it over, counting
it, under an electric light. Then he was attacked. And
_ now the money was gone.

Dick looked again at his bloody hands, and thought
‘of the man he had seen.

_ And he might have made a statement tight then, if
siiething else of a startling nature had* not occurred
to distract his attention and cause him to defer it.

_ That was the capture of a man who had been
crouching close by the wall of the: house, outside. With
oe cries, his captors dragged him in through the
door. | :

_ The man was Omaha Oliver. ™

Dick and Phillips stared when they beheld the tramp
or whom they had searched so ee

 

 

ecto

 

  

 

  
  
  

 
 

  
 
  

* he belo
> knows me.” 4

  

,

   
  

The room filled with men, who ques-

and sent a letter up to you at the hotel.

Clifford, when the latter seemed to have recove:
“sense and regained self-control.

“You ea ask bien fer
BS e a cetige sO recount that it is.”

 
   
 
    
  
  
   
  
 
   
   
    
  
  
  
  
   
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
    
 
 
  
  
 
 

WEEKLY.

CHAPTER VI.
THE TRAMP IN THE SPOTLIGHT. Bp

Omaha Oliver was disappointed if he expected to be
a at once because of his appeal to Dick Merri-
we

The men who had dragged him into the room had
begun to search him, and one of them brought forth a
suspicious roll,

He held it up, stripped off the soiled bit of newspaper
wrapped round it, and the contents were shown to be a
roll of bank bills and greenbacks.,

“I guess this is our man—or one of them!”

Dick Merriwell was amazed and perplexed.

There seemed no reasonable accounting for the pos-
session of that money by Omaha Oliver, except on the
supposition that the tramp had taken it from the pay-
master., And Clifford now declared promptly that the
money was his.

“Was this the man that struck you?” was asked.

“No, I don’t think so. But I don’t know—I don’t
know who hit me. That blow came from behind.”

The truth seemed to be that Clifford had been bending
over his desk, when some one came softly up behind
him, seized him, and a struggle ensued.

A handkerchief had been slipped,,over Clifford’s eyes.

sut he had cast it off, struggled to his knees after he
had been beaten down, and then had drawn a clasp
knife and slashed at his assailant. After that, instantly,
had come the blinding blow that knocked him out,

The tramp’ was again appealing to Dick Merriwell.

“Tm all right, ain’t I, Merriwell? You jest tell ‘em —
that I’m all right. You an’ me was thicket’n thieves
down in New Haven las’ week; and I showed you then
that I’m the straight goods. Ain't that so?”

“How did you come by that money?” was Dick's blunt
counterquestion.

“Why, he took it from me!” declared Clifford, when —
the tramp hesitated.

‘“‘No—not on yer life!
tramp asserted.

No one believed it, of course, except possibly Dick
Merriwell and Jim Phillips. Yet it was not a credible
thing that the tramp should be found hiding beside the
wall outside and have had nothing to do with the rob-—
bery, when that roll of bills had been found on him.

And though, because of what had happened before
Dick Merriwell wanted to believe that Omaha Olive:
was nothing worse than a vagrant, it was hard work
for him to believe it now.

“T tried to git to see ye, Merriwell,’ ” said the tramp
plaintively. “That’s why I’m ’ere and in this trouble.
That’s honest goods. I sneaked into the grounds ’érs
I dunnc
whether you got it or not. But I was made to git out
I couldn’t git back easy; and had to give it “up for
time. But I’ve not been fergittin’ it, and——”

He was being searched for further evidence. The
excited men who surrounded him, being sure they had
the fellow who had assaulted and robbed Lieuten
Clifford, were not tuclined to be merciful, or to list
what he said.

“You are sure that is your money re Dick ingut a

 

      
      
  

That ain’t your money,” the

        
 
    
   

  
   
   

 
 
   
 
    
  
 
  
     
     
   
 

    
     
      
       
 
  
      
   
    
 

  
      
  

““T ask, because
a sword cut on his arm, near the shoulder.

   

10 PP

*Why wouldn’t he deny it?” Clifford demanded.

The subpaymaster was sure the money was his; and as
every. one else in the room seemed to think the same
thing, there was no escape for the tramp.

There was a jail of some kind at Highland Falls, un-
der the jurisdiction of the civil courts; and the West
Point men did not want to contaminate with his pres-
ence any room or place of detention they had on the
grounds.

“‘Nobody’s goin’ to believe me, o’ course, not even Mer-
riwell, when I took resks to git in ’ere jest on account
o him,” said Omaha Oliver, with bitter impatience.

“You can tell me where you got the money,” said Dick.
“I’m disposed to stand by you, and do what I can for
you. I’m ready to say that I’m sure you were not alone
in this, even if you were in it. The man that got the
paymaster’s knife tumbled against me, I think, as he was
getting out of here.”

He displayed his hands, spotted and smeared with
blood; but he did not name Eugenio Duranzo.

He had-decided not to be precipitate. Then ques-
tions fell on him as swiftly as, at first, they had fallen
on the tramp. So that the latter’s desire, if it existed,
to make everything clear to Dick, was shunted for a
minute. But only for a minute.

“Yes, I can tell ye where I got dat money,” said
Omaha Oliver, when the subject was taken up again.
This was after some men had hastened out, having seen
Dick’s hands, in the hope of encountering the man who
had been running away, and, in colliding with him, had
left-those bloody stains. “I can tell ye, but y’ ain’t goin’
to believe me. But Pll say to Merriwell that I got th’
money in the same place dat I got de letter I sent into de
hotel.”

“Go ahead,” said Dick, thinking of Eugenio Duranzo.
“Where did you get the letter?”

“In de hand organ of a dago, out by de Highland
Falls road; and dat’s so, no matter who laughs, or says
it’ ain’t.”

Of course} they laughed, with sneering. But Dick
Merriwell was interested. So he made Omaha Oliver
descrihe the Italian as well as he could, .

Omaha Oliver had to go to jail just the same, though
_ he had the promise that in the morning Dick Merriwell
_ would visit him.

He was a_thief, on his own confession, having stolen

’

> the money from the Italian.

The money was counted, and taken possession of by
Clifford, who still declared that’ it was ‘his; but that
it was only a part of the amount that had been taken
from him. —

The excited men who had been making a wild and

Ae hasty search for the man who had run against Merri-
' well, made no discovery that they thought worth while,

But what they did discover they reported:

“There is a cadet in the hands of the surgeon; he has
He had the
sword out, and fell against it in some way. But, of
course, as the man you saw was in civilian clothing, that

lets him out; even if any one would ever have suspected

him,”
Dick had said nothing about the man being in civilian
clothing, ;
“Who is the cadet?” was his question.
» “Eugenio Duranzo,”
~ Though the hour was now so very late, Dick Mer-

 

“WEEKLY.

riwell had a talk that night with some of the coaches,
in which he sought their advice as to the course he ought
to pursue.

Ordinarily, Dick was quite able to mark out his path

and cut his way through; but he did not want to say
anything that might wrong an innocent man.

More than all, his present fear was that he was biased,
or becoming so, through the very fact that the name of
the suspected cadet was Duranzo; that name was like
the red rag to the bull, it stirred and angered him, And
Dick feared that it might demoralize his judgment, —

Some of the men Dick consulted thought the thing to
do was to denounce Eugenio Duranzo at once to the
West Point authorities, feeling sure that he had attacked
and robbed Lieutent Clifford.

Others advised delay. “What about the tramp?” they
asked. Was it possible, or probable, that he and Du-
ranzo were partners in the crime?

Between these warring advisers, Dick wavered, and
then he waited.

“There is no need to go too fast, anyway,” he said.
“Omaha Oliver is in jail, and Duranzo is in the hospital.
The matter can wait a few hours.”

But in the morning news came up from Highland
Falls that Omaha Oliver had escaped from the jail.

CHAPTER VII,
DURANZO’S DEFIANCE,

Jim Phillips and big Bill Brady got the members of
the nine and substitutes together in a quiet corner of
the hotel, and some earnest talk followed.

Phillips and Brady were sure that Dick Merriwell’s
life was again in danger.

“The situation is clear enough, it seems to me,” said
Brady. ‘We don’t need to know all the details.”

Then he outlined it, as it had shaped itself in his mind
and in the mind of Jim Phillips:

“The tramp says that he stole that money from a
hand-organ man on the road between here and High-
land Falls, yesterday. And the letter he sent in to Mer-
riwell was with the money. Eugenio Duranzo wrote
that letter. And the fact that it had reached Merri-
well so scared him that he took it and ran out of the
room with it. That proves, to me at least, that Eugenio
Duranzo and the man with the hand organ are ac-
quaintances and friends; that they’re even more than that.
And it suggests to me, what it probably has suggested to
you, that Diego Lipiana is Porfirio Duranzo,

“Eugenio Duranzo went to New York, probably to
meet Porfirio,*and furnish him with money; but failed
to find him in the Italian quarter where Porfirio was
hiding under the name of Lipiana, for the reason that
Porfirio had grown tired of waiting for him there and
had set out for West Point.

“Last night Porfirio and Eugenio met somewhere be-
yond the academy grounds. Porfirio had to have money.

/ What had been sent to him by Eugenio, or he had got
together, had been stolen from him by the tramp, So

he had to get more. And they planned together to rob
the paymaster. Eugenio had been with the paymaster,
and knew about the money, and where it was to be found.

In the fight the paymaster stabbed Eugenio in the arm,

and Eugenio ran; but the other man, who I think: was
Porfirio, pounded the paymaster on the head, and. got
away with the money. Oe Natal

 

i
;

sity
‘
 

Lib oTOr

“As for the tramp—lI’ve been thinking of that. He
| was there; but the money found on him he says he took
22. from the hand organ with the letter. Of course he is a
liar, and he admits that he is a thief. I'll pass that up,

and let you have a whack at it.”

All sorts of.ideas, many of them fantastic, were forth-
coming. But the one thing on which all could agree was
that Dick Merriwell was again in danger.

What relationship Eugenio Duranzo bore to Porfirio,
they did not know. But they felt sure there was a rela-

- tionship.
i “Now you see what we must do,” Brady added.
). “We've got to keep our eyes open every minute: Mer-

 

’

and all the others will have to watch to see that no
-one who might. want to harm him gets near him. Do
you get that? Of course, we must play West Point this
afternoon, too.”

While the Yale men were thus planning for the safety
of Dick Merriwell, he was on his way. in an automobile
to Highland Falls.

‘The contentions of the men who had urged the guilt of
the tramp, and by their arguments had almost persuaded
him that the tramp must be guilty, seemed to have been
given ample proof by Omaha Oliver’s flight.

Yet the fact that he had been caught with money
which he admitted he hed stolen wold be enough to
account for his flight, without adding the chatge that
he had aided in the attack on the paymaster.

So. Dick was not entirely convinced; and he won-
_ dered if it was because he did not want to be convinced.

The jail was apparently an insecure structure; at any
rate, the tramp seemed to have got out of it without
difficulty, And he had left no trace, except in the dam-
aged window and the two iron bars he had bent. back
so that he could squeeze his body through.

Dick was still Sachets as to his proper-course of ac-
_ tion as he returned to the academy.

__ A restraining consideration, and a strong one, was that
he and the Yale boys were the honor guests of the men
of West Point. So if he denounced Eugenio Duranzo,
_or even mentioned to any West Point man what he knew
and strongly believed, he must have more than theory
_ to stand on—he must be absolutely sure of his grounds.
Even then his réle would not be pleasant.
~ “T can let it go over until after the game. Duranzo
is in the hospital, and he won’t leave the academy.
the matter can still wait. But I can see that if Omaha
Oliver is recaptured and put on trial for that assault
and robbery, I shall have to go before the court and re-
veal just what I do know.”

_ Thus Dick mused, while the automobile was carrying
him, back over the highway.
On reaching the grounds of the academy, he had made
up his mind to call at the surgeon’s quarters. /

here he expected to find Eugenio Duranzo in a cot.
But Duranzo was up and dressed and ready to leave.

   
 

 
 

  

 
 

  
  

 

a

of white cloth.

f glance at his gray coat showed that he had been
given a new one, for no slit of knife or sword was in it.

seeing Dick, Eugenio would have hastened off
fe itately, but Dick stopped him.

ea few words | with you, Duranzo,”

  

he said.

  

riwell will need a personal bodyguard of Yale men;.

‘was bleeding.

‘So

is. dark face was pale and his arm was sumpended in a-

of last night.

at paring - He: ee with, an been ‘it is to be a -— paid: us | over that, all

 

   
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  

WEEKLY, II

which suggested terror, was marked in Eugenio Du- |
ranzo’s appearance and manner.

But flight was useless, as well as unwise, and he
stopped and waited for Dick to come up.

“What is it?” he said, trying to pull himself together.

“It was queer, the way you took that letter and left
my room last night,” Dick began.

A look of relief came to the yellow face.

“Oh, that! Well, it was my letter. I explained to
you that it was something I had written in cipher, and
I didn’t care to have it in your hands, or in the hands
of any one but myself.”

“You still have it?”

“T have destroyed it.
concern you.”

“You haven’t forgotten that my name was in it.”

Eugenio showed nervous irritation.

“I explained that to you. The name had been made
familiar to me, and when I made up the cipher I chanced
to use it. That’s all there is to it.”

“I shall have to accept your statement.”

    
 

The reason for that doesn’t

     
        
        
     
   
     
       
      
 

Duranzo shrugged his shoulders in the Sapnish
fashion.

‘As you please about that.” a

“Then that other matter—of last night,” Dick went —

    
 

on. “You remember you plunged into me, while you —
were running from that building where Clifford has
his office. That contact left blood on my, hands.”

“Perhaps you remember something that did not ‘hap-
pen,” said Eugenio. He cast a quick glance round him,
to assure himself that he and Merriwell were quite alone,
and could not be overheard. “I think, you are trying
to connect me with h the robbery of the paymaster: Well,
you can’t do it.”

His eyes narrowed and his voice took a defiatit ring.

“Tf that is your game, Mr. Merriwell, you can't do it.”

“You were there, running, and you ran into me ; and
I got blood on my hands from the contact.”

“Say that is all true. I had cut my shoulder on
my sworn—a bit of carelessness, I admit, but not crim-
inal. And I was hurrying to the surgeon, for the wound
I had gone into my old room at the bar-
racks, where some of the new men were sleeping, having
thoughtlessly left my sword there. And as I tried to
get out with it without waking them, it slipped, and I
cut my shoulder and, arm.

“You did not waken them?” °

“Yes, I did. That room is occupied by Plebes Thomp-
son and Sullivan. Go ask them what they know abou
it. They awoke and saw me in the room.”

“They recognized you? Then I suppose you stoppe
to explain?”
“No, I hurried off. I had no business to go there
that time, and I was hoping I was not recognized; b
I think now that it is probable that I was. And, be
sides, having, as I said, cut myself with my Swor
I wanted to have the cutlooked at without delay. 2c

“Your sword was out of its seabbard. That ‘is odd
isn’t it?”
“I drew it out as I pulled it down froin its cies
there is nothing odd about it. The only strange thin;
td me is that I see you have a grudge against’ me, |
are resolved to connect me, if you can, with that aff
But you can’t do it, Mr. Merriwell .
can’t do it successfully, There is where I Sa yo

  
     
    
         
      
    
      
     
      
  
        
        
      
      
        
  
  

  
   
      
      
     
       
 
 

  
   
    
   
 

   
  

   
     
  
  

  
  
  
   
   
     
 
 

  
    
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
       
      
      
       
     
     
     
        
      
     
   
      
        
     
       
     
      
   

‘Dee baa

plenty of friends here who have known me well ever
since I have been here, and will stand up for me. I
~am known here as an honest man, and no one acquainted
‘with me would ever think of trumping up such a charge
against me as I can see you have in mind,”

Dick smiled indulgently. Duranzo was at bay, but

he was ready to fight. And Dick’s proofs were no more
than suspicions. ,
“You have heard about the tramp?” he said.
_ “T have heard everything. Nothing else has been
talked of this morning, As a subject of interest, it has
even eclipsed the marvelous Yale boys and the game to
be played to-day.” He sneered. “And I have heard
that the tramp seems to be a sort of protegée of the
- wonderful Yale coach, Dick Merriwell. But it doesn’t
surprise me.’

“We'll drop this matter until after the game,”
Dick, “But I have a feeling that it isn’t ended. I don’t
want to make any mistake, and I shall give you the bene-
fit of the doubt. But I must state frankly that your
claim that the letter you wrote to Lipiana, in New York,
was a cipher don’t wash. You have claimed that you
do not know Porfirio Duranzo, but I’m not convinced

of it. And that organ grinder, and the tramp, will yet
be found,”

“Do your worst, Merriwell, ” Duranzo said. “From
_ what I. know of you now, Tm expecting that you will.”
_ He turned and walked away.

  

were consulting,

“The tramp will be heard fice and the organ grinder,”
he told them. “Officers are out making a search. I
don’t like to push this thing—unless I have. to; a can
attord to wait.” |

 

  

   

 

CHAPTER VIII.
ON THE BALL GROUNDS.
Theres in the events of the night did not lessen re
est in the ball game.
he rigid discipline of West Point was suspended. It
yas Saturday, anyway; and a Saturday half-holiday was
thing to be appreciated. The barracks, the summer
. the homes and rooms of officers and instructors,
ere practically deserted.
The hotel gave up its last guest.
land Falls and the surrounding country, came.

 
 

  

  

  

 
      
 
    
    

yed between Yale and the nine of the military academy.

e on hand promptly. But no one had forgotten the

 
    
   
 
     
 
    
 
  

t the head of Dick Merriwell. They had said nothing
ut it outside their own number, and said nothing

  

‘come to the field and had found a ‘Seat,
1e could watch the game closely. >
fas a bit surprising to Dick; but on décanil

 

rred o a nature to alarm

’ said

batting order and the players’ positions :

Dick walked back toward the hotel, where his friends.

ney had the “goods.” And that they believed in him
‘was shown by the cheering he received. |

ing cries, whereupon

:
In addition, fr o _ pitcher broke loose with a curve ball, which was rathe:

of people to see the great game that was to Ay Rs

Yale nine and substitutes, and the Yale coaches, the puzzling class,

ed and invisible danger that was supposed to hang —

now; but they kept together as they came on the fouled it.

id eyed every stranger who approached unbidden. |
Merriwell, seemingly the*least concerned, looked —
eee that sweeping glanec he saw that Eugenio

slammed it back at him.
pulled it in and sent it easily to first.

leading the cheering squad urged on their
was first blood for West pais and Ld. ae dis

ounted for the “nerve” of the fellow by 0 make the most of it.

t Duranzo thought the best way —

on was for him to conduct
“sy 4 m - for baseball. cheering:

WEEKLY.

 

The entrance of the teams on the field was greeted
with enthusiastic cheering; a tremendous roar for the
West Point fellows, and a feebler cry for the Yale men.
Naturally, West Point's delight in its own men made
the cadets cheer for them loudest; but alongside of this:
came the spirit of fair play, and the pride which every
good West Pointer felt in such glorious baseball fighters
as the men from Yale; and so they cheered for Yale.

There was the usual noisy movements of the specta-—
tors, the customary yells, the restless murmur of many
voices; and flags waved conspicuously.

And of course there was the ordinary warming-up
work, by which the members of the nine limbered up
muscles and got themselves in trim for doing the best ‘
that was in them. cies

Then all attention centered on the diamond, and the a
multitudinous noises dropped to a low drone. The nines.
were moving to their places, and the Yale men were first
at the bat.

The megaphoned announcement had given this as the

BR

 

 

 

YALE. _ WEsT Polick
Taylor, lf. Dana, If.
Silby, cf. Davis, 2b.
Doyle, 2b. Snyder, cf.
Brady, c. Moon, rf,
Martin, rf, Moran, Ib.
Ray, 1b. Hammond, 3b.
Fitch, ss. Faline, ss.
Hartzell, 3b. Murdock, c.
eS p. Sidney, p. #

Sidney, ih: potniel the pitcher’s position for West |
Point, looked now anything but a West Point cadet in his.
baseball clothing. Ei

He had the straight, square shoulders which the West
Point. drill gives to every one there; but he looked —
big and wide-cut in his loose garb, and seemed to shamble. _

But the West Point men had loudly declared that Sid- >

 

Facing Sidney in the batter’s position stood Taylor, of |
Yale; also big and broad-shouldered, and strong as an_
Ox. "The Yale men gave him a little whirl of earten-
aylor smiled at them, and put up

    
 
        
       

his bat.
After studying the batter a moment, the West Poi -

a surprising thing for him, as he depended _ more
speed, it was said, than on curves, drops, 0

 
 

The swift curve crossed the middle of ‘the <
uit as it had not looked good to Taylor, he Mh: it
by, and heard the umpire declare a “strike.” a

When another curve came in, Taylor s

 

 
 

 
 

Sidney baited him with: paemier” aes

‘Davis, the second b
So Tayl

West Point tuned up in the bleachers d

 

 
 

  
  
 

  
  
   

 
    
 
 
   
   

A. well-known. baseball a
author of “Casey at th

  

  
   

“Cheer whin ye
 

Shane Pe TS atti annem
+3 Ss E NS Se z

could be worse.

246. hr

No doubt West Point had read it.

Sidney thought so well of his curves that he made
another shambling wind-up and shot one to the next
man up, who was Silby, Yale’s center fielder. Silby
tried hard to connect with it, and missed.

Sidney’s judgment seemed justified, and the West Point
rooters again filled the air with their cheering.

But when Sidney did it again—sent in his curve,
Silby nailed it. But it shot as a grounder to the West
Point shortstop, and Silby was effaced.

Sidney now sent a slow drop to Doyle, Yale’s next
man at the bat. Doyle, refusing to wait, drove a grass-
cutter down to Moran, at first bag. It got past Moran,
and he had to chase it.

But the West Point pitcher ran to first and took the
throw, which was perfect.

The side was out! Biff—bang—slam! three men were
out. Yale had been retired from the bat!

Pandemonium reigned at West Point; the cheering was
a gale that rocked the stand and bleachers.

And, analyzed as to how the retiring had been done,
it was justified.

Sidney had pitched but seven balls, and not a man
had Yale put on first,

Dana, who led the batting list for West Point, was
a slim, trim young fellow, almost as good looking in his
baseball clothing as in his natty West Point uniform.

But he looked anxious as he faced Jim Phillips. For
Phillips’ reputation as a pitcher, preceding him, and

talked to shreds by the West Pointers, had not been :

lost.on Dana.

Jim Phillips had some fine curves-and a deceptive fade-
away in his masterful right hand, but he chose. straight
ones, because he thought Dana was looking for curves.

Four pitched balls whistled at the rubber, and Dana
struck out, with some mighty indiscriminate fanning of
the atmosphere.

There. was silence in the West Point bleachers.

Davis, who followed Dana at the bat, seeing that Jim
Phillips had good control and was putting them over
the rubber, slashed at the first one that came in,

It had a queer kink in it as it passed ‘off the bat, and
rolled as a grounder to first.

Ray, at first, was doing his duty, and handled it with-
out assistance. 5

The silence of West Point deepened.

But as the next batter came up to face Jim Phil-
lips, the men whose duty it was to lead and evoke cheer-
ing swung their arms, and from the lips of the West
Pointers, in bleachers and stand, there came a mighty
roar, flung out like a note of defiance.

Stimulated by it, Snyder hammered at one of. the
curves which Phillips now began to use, and missed.
-Next. he waited, and he heard the urnpire announce
“Two strikes!” :
Then Phillips curved a beauty over.the outside cor-
ner; and Snyder, reaching for it with confidence, struck
out,

That was worse even than Yale had done, if anything
But the whole inning only proved that
two fighting baseball teams were closely matched, and
that in the pitcher’s box two good men had been doing
good work.

By the time the second inning opened, the excitement,

the ‘cheering, and the stirring of battle blood, was be-

ginning to make even the Yale men forget all about the

ei

 

WEEKLY. 3 f 13

supposed danger that Dick Merriwell was in. And as
for the assault and the robbery in the night, it Wwas for
West Pointers now as if it never had been, though
throughout the forenoon it had occupied in their minds
its full share of interest and attention.

Big Bill Brady, the giant catcher of Yale, and the
hardest and surest batter of the list, was given a cheer
by the Yale fans when he took up his bat and marched
out to the rubber.

But on the face of Sidney was a complacent smile.
He seemed not to be a bit afraid of Brady,

Then he sent in what looked to be a puzzling imita-
tion of Phillips’ fadeaway, and to Brady an easy thing.
But Brady found’ that it wasn’t easy. He got it, but
it was only a tap, which rolled a grounder down to
Davis, at second.

And big Bill Brady was out.

Martin, of Yale, not particularly noted as a batter,
yet a man who sometimes offered surprises, seemed to
do better than Brady ; at least, he connected, with a heavy
whack of the sort that is called “on the. trade-mark.”

It went like a bullet, to Hammond, the West Point
man on third; and he made a marvelous stop.

Two men were out, and one of them was Brady.

That seemed to rattle Ray whem she came to the bat.
Two of Sidney’s curves got by him.

Then he took a desperate chance on the next one, which
was headed for the heart of the plate, and drove a fly,
which went out to Snyder; and Snyder gathered it in.

Then the West Point rooters had an inning again, and
made the welkin ring. The second time for Yale at the
bat, and no runs yet!

West Point was justified in howling now until it accu-
mulated an aching throat. .

West Point had forgotten the night raid on Lieutenant
Clifford, and the Yale men had forgotten the danger that
might be hovering round Dick Merriwell. But Dick
himself had not forgotten,

He turned now and then with a glance that swept
everything—a glance that took in each time the figure

_ of Eugenio Duranzo, and all the exits and entrances of

the grounds. Yet at the same time he directed the
course of the Yale playing at the bat and in the field. -

No one would have guessed that he was guiding the
work of the Yale nine; yet the manner in which he
stood, or stepped about, or lifted his hat, all were seen
and noted. by Jim Phillips, who had personal direction
of the playing, and were transmitted by Phillips to the
players by well-understood signals.

When West Point went to the bat, and faced Jim
Phillips’ curves and fadeaway, they perished so speedily
that West Point could not get up even a hearty cheer
of defiance. §

In the first half of the third, the first hit of the game
was made by Flitch, Yale’s shortstop, when he took ad-.
vantage of a straight one over and banged a single into
left.

Trying to follow up this luck, Hartzell, the batter néxt
announced by the umpire, smashed. out a hot liner;
but it went straight into the hands of Davis, the second
baseman, who ran for it. :

Then Davis tossed the ball to the shortstop in time to: —
tag out Flitch before he could get back to the bag; and ~
the first double play of the game had been recorded. —

When Jim Phillips came to the bat, Sidney began to |
send in wide curves. He rather feared Phillips, though |

 
iP: TOP

Phillips was really second in batting ability to big Bill
Brady.

Phillips went after the big curves until he had fouled
four.

Then Sidney switched to a fast ball, and Phillips
lifted a fly. But it was an easy one for Davis.

In the second half, Faline, the cadet shortstop, took
a wicked swing at one of Phillips’ fast ones and smashed
a line drive to right, that Martin picked out of his shoe-
string.

Then Murdock sent the West Point fans wild by ham-
mering out a liner that bounced away from Jim Phil-
lips, for a single.

And after that Sidney added to the West Point in-
sanity by banging the ball into right field for another
single, which sent Murdock around to third.

Jim Phillips seemed falling down. For now Dana
picked up a curve with his bat and shot the ball at
Flitch, who failed to drag it down; and the first run
of the game was pulled over the rubber. by the victorious
cadets.

Flitch got ‘the ball in time to throw out Sidney at sec-
ond, but had not been able to prevent the run.

‘Dana then attempted a steal at second, but was nailed,
on a close decision.

West Point had one lone run, and Yale had nothing.
Phillips felt inclined: to blame himself for inferior’ w ork
in the box, yet without good reason.

Sidney’s fadeaway, which he refurbished for further

use, looked tempting tog Taylor, and he lifted a skyscraper °

on the second ball pitched. But it went to Snyder, out
in center.

Then Silby went after the first one that came over the
mat, though it had a good curve, and popped a fly to
Faline.

Doyle sent out a grounder and went for first like
the wind. Hammond, at third, made a great stop and
throw ; but Doyle went to first ahead of the ball, though
by so close a margin, the umpire’s decision that he was
safe created an uproar and was denounced by some of
the West Point fans.

~ The West Point pitcher now allowed Doyle to take a
big lead off first, and he made a clean steal of second, in
spite of the fact that the catcher sent the ball back with
yonderful skill and speed. _

Then Bill Brady became Sidney’s victim. He got an
uitside curve, switched the ball right back to Sidney,
and perished at first.

But West Point did no better in this fourth inning.

avis smashed a hot grounder that Doyle gathered in

with one hand and shot to first. Instead of trying to
ait out the pitcher, as he had done before, Snyder
heaved at the first one, only to send a long fly out to
aylor in left field. ,
‘And though Moon landed one squarely, and it was hot

as the tail of a hornet, it went straight into Martin’s

hands in left field, and stayed there.
Yet the cadets felt that they were more than biotite
the Yale fellows down; for they had one run, and Yale
had nothing. . ‘
And the throats of the West Point rooters were get-

raw. i

ter swinging wildly at two curves in the opening of
fifth inning, Martin, Yale’s competent right fielder,
ped off a grounder. In trying to get it, Hammond,
P int’s third Rane Honted it; and was so de-

was playing a dangerous game;

WEEKLY.

layed as a consequence, for it popped ahead of him on
the ground, that Martin gained first bag without any
trouble:

Then Ray got the benefit of a single, when he cracked
out a ball that struck the umpire on the leg.

Two bags were filled, and not a man out.

After that Flitch made a sacrifice bunt, and advanced
both runners.

On the next batsman, the West Point pitcher used
his fadeaway, and Hartzell heard two strikes called on
him. Then he was struck out, with a cannon ball right
over the plate. Yale had two men out.

The umpire called the name of Jim Phillips, and Phil-
lips came to the bat. Though two men were out, there
Wer@ runners on second and third.

The Yale rooters tuned up loudly, to encourage batter
and runners.

Sidney, the clever cadet pitcher, was anxious to strike
Jim Phillips out. Jim was the opposition pitcher, and
between the two there had been a pitcher’s. battle

Perhaps there was a little natural, if unjustifiable, envy
in the feeling.

Sidney had been trying to “get on to” Yale’s signaling.
He knew Phillips had done some of it, and he believed
that Bill Brady had done some. And he thought now
that Bill Brady was wafting signals to the batter.

He had noticed Phillips make a motion like the one
he thought Brady now fhe e, and the batter at that time
had bunted, and the runner had tried to advance.

In figuring this out and trying to profit by it, Sidney
for he could have no
assurance that his notion was correct; and then signals
are often changed, and very suddenly.

It now made him throw wide, and a ball was called.

The runners were playing off*daringly, and they knew
that Jim Phillips was to try for one in, deep center.

Sidney, deceived by what he believed was a wigwag
from Brady, and from previous observation thinking. it
meant that Phillips would bunt, gave a signal himself,
and the outfielders began to creep in.

Jim Phillips, waiting for the ball to come over, could
hardly suppress a smile when he noticed that; for he
sensed the fact that Sidney had been fooled in some way,

‘or that some one else’on the cadet nine had been fooled.

Sidney now began to send in swift balls, putting them
tight over with almost phenomenal speed. ee
_ Phillips let them go by, until two, balls and a strike a
were called. ‘

The next ball over he reached for.

Crack! ok

Tt was a terrific hit, right over the head of the center ee

fielder, who had got too close in; for the fielder had — 7

thought to back up the. RAs and the second base-
man. Las
The ball still went on, in great bounds, like a rabbit
scuttling for cover over the grass. iy
The man on third came-home. The man from sec-
ond came home. Jim Phillips gained second, turned
toward’ thitd; and-the ball still was being chased by. the
fielder. .
All the spectators were standing up; and a wild roar of r
yells, applause, and cries of delirious excitement weileg,
Se the ball grounds.
Phillips gained third, shooting ete: across *» and. t 1
ing. .
“Go Fe the, coacher there had aes yelling,

 

 
  
  
  
   
     
    
   
  
   
 
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  

Ae TIP TOP WEEKLY. , ey

Everybody was screaming “Go!” The umpire stood hesitating, his curiosity also aroused,
“Go home!” the coacher howled. “Go—go home!” .  “There’s a man hurt out there, somewhere,” Phillips
And Jim Phillips went on like lightning. - explained, “and Merriwell has gone out to help him.
Jim Phillips gained home on a great slide, just before. There will be plenty of help; a lot of others have gone,

the ball from the pitcher struck in the catcher’s mitt. too; you saw that. He said for us to go on with the
Wow! It was to-yell; and the Yale men split their game.’

Dee eee

ee
te >

 

 

z throats. For Yale had pulled three men over the rub- The umpire, strolling up, heard this,

ber; and the score was now three for Yale and one for “All right,” he. said, with a nod.

bors Weat Point, * “Wasn't that the tramp that broke jail?” was shot ae
e Right after that the side went out. Phillips.

Spurred by this, the cadets, in the second half of the “T guess that’s right, *. Phillips admitted, “But we’re
| fifth, pulled a man across the home plate. The specta- not policemen, and we’re here to play ball.”

tors began to think that they were “getting the worth of The umpire walked on, and got in behind the catcher’s
_ their money.” This was baseball of the kind to set the position. The West Point men turned back to the field. —
4 fans wild. The Yale boys went to their bench. And the excited —
me And the score now stood: Yale three, West Point two. spectators, many of whom had been standing up, shout- —
| Five innings had been played. ing questions, settled down again; though a great roar
ys: i of talk still filled the air.

a “Play ball!” the umpire ordered.

CHAPTER IX. And the great. game between Yale and West Point —

    
 

Was on again.
But the spectacular entrance of the tramp upon the
"4 While the sides were changing, and the Yale men were’ scene, and the eruption of spectators following Merri-
_ streaming in to the bench for the opening of the sixth well and Omaha Oli iver, could not be banished from the
inning, there was a spectacular happening, . mind instantly; and as it filled the minds of the Yale
Omaha Oliver bounded out on the : diamond, apparently men, and made them solicitous and anxious, as well as _
from nowhere, like a ragged circus*clown popping into curious, it began to affect their playing. rf
_ the limelight to draw down a shower of applause; and Their batting average fell down; their teamwork
running with jumping leaps straight up to Dick Mer- seemed to encounter vexatious hitches; wigwagged sig-
tiwell, he stopped before him, with his hands waving. nals were apparently not always clearly ‘understood ; they
What he said to: Merriwell no one could hear, He.’ covered themselves with confusion in that first half,
did not speak loud enough to be heard above the con- falling easy victims, and went to the field without hav-
fusing: roar of the spectators, For word swept round ing accomplished a thing.
that this was the fellow who had robbed Lieutenant Clif-
ford, and had broken from the jail at Highland Falls;
and men began to tumble out of the bleachers and stand,

BATTLING FOR THE BLUE.

 
 
      
    
     
     
     
     
    
   

 
 
 

 

  
       
 

  

4 %
Then in the box Jim Phillips ‘went up in a balloon.”
Men took bases on “balls,” made steals; and as a result

of this and some execrable fielding, the cadets ut a run-
auch as if those seating places were hornets’ nests that - e P

Had fh harply) prodded: ner across the home plate.
ne , een sharply prodde :
Dick Merriwell turned with a quick movement to the 4 The We ee ae tied—standing now three to three
Male players nearest him. « | nd the West Point fans were in a delirium of joy.
“Go on with the game,” he sat’ The hand organ - . Sidney hopped into the pitcher’s position, and aaa
‘man is out there, in Or near the road sotnewhere, badly _ the ball with confident hilarity. Then he sent them over
hurt—perhaps dying; and Oliver has come to me, for °; sure of himself ; and the Yale batters i. Sth a at t
help. You can get along without me.” _ atmosphere and fanned out.
_ Then Dick swung round as if on a pivot, va ran “Here’s where we get them on the run, boys!” ‘Sidne
ter Omaha Oliver, who was hastening off the diamond, shouted, as he came swinging in to the cadet bench.

d moving with a hurried shuffle as if he feared ne Phillips pulled himself together and did a little better.
ould be nabbed for jail breaking. _ A man was struck out. And he nailed another, by
They vanished almost before the Yale boys ould: group throw to first. But, then, a liner was smashed. into
ound the men Merriwell had spoken to and learn what outfield, where the fielder bungled it, and the ru
was he had said. went to second.

nd after them, men from stand and bleachers. Phillips tried to strike the next hide ath He |
treaked, as if they scented a matter of | greater excite- cured two strikes, offered a curve, and the ball we
en ‘than even the manera abr oe as that “into deep right. The right fielder chiar it, and the wil
er “her came across. the home plate from second.

West Point was now a. run in the lead, apd t

oe a lirium of the West, Point fans became nee
- said Pilling “That won't ‘to. " Wiwal’ howled, and they sang:
‘us to go on with the game. Whatever has hap- 4
ned out. there, he is equal to it. We. can’t Jcave:! 40 “West Point is coming right o on with ie. goods
at's so,” Brady agreed, ee Bis bold batter hit or the ene. ; 1 x
a Kika:

e said Taylor. “We've got to see 2 this: game to gg Ter the Tater hit over the Aas "ye :

|; it’s not possible to do- anything else,’ Ae tiated
ess of the W est Point men to the infield and-
d been stopped ; and some of them came back,

  
     
 

     
   
  

   
      
   
  

 
   
  

    
   
     
      

   
   
     

   
    
      
     
  

      
 
  

   
  
     
   
 
  

  
 
  
       
 

      
    
 
 
 
  

   
  
  
  

   
   

(sido fine work was an epic ‘eee
ar ral the curves—but

 

 
  
    
  

6 TIP TOP
The batter had not “hit over the fence,” but that was
-nothing—he had done good work, and a man had been
snaked over the rubber mat; and as the song had been
made up beforehand and given much practice, it had to
be used.

They kept it up when the next batsman stepped to
the plate; for though West Point had two men out, they
had a runner on first—and West Point was one run in

the lead:

 

“One run ahead, and another is certain;
For the batter will hit o’er the fence!

One run to the good—and soon Yale gets the curtain;
For the ball will go over the fence!

“Ah, there goes the punch—and the runner is running!
It is Yale’s solar plexus—a blow that is stunning.
For Eli’s old scalp dear old West Point is gunning!
Oh, the batter hit over the fence!”

Tt was fine to hear them roaring it out in that way.
_ The batsman on whom so much depended slammed a
single at the fence, but he had not reach enough:

_ For though he gained first, the runner from first per-
ished at second; and the side was out.

- But West Point was one run in the lead. Nobody
could forget that.. It was howled in the ears of every
one with a roar that was deafening.

So the eighth inning opened, with Dick Merriwell still
_ absent, and Yale at the bat.

Sidney began to whip them over with astonishing self-
-confidence and control.

_ He was out now to cinch a victory. And he started
well, by striking out the first batter.

The West Point fans were still roaring their nerve-
tingling Song:

“Sidney’s fine work is an epic of glare
He sure has the curves—but that’s an old story-———’

— Crack!
_ It was the sound of the bat colliding with the ball. But
was only an easy fly, after all, and quickly smothered.
hen a breaking curve fanned another man out.

“No runs!”
The West Point fans banged it at the:sk in wild-cat
ells that would have shamed the abilities o
iors.
But at the bat West Point did no better than Vale,
hillips struck a batsman out with three fast ones.
ie used slow teasers and curves, and the next man waited
got a_base on “balls.” But the runner went out on
ot throw from Bill Poems Mee trying to filch the
wdust bag at second.
Then Phillips switched to swilt ones again, and struck
the next man. © ;

yy

  

  

   

  

  

  

A x so the ninth i inning opened.

*

about to wind-up to send the ball over. Fora crowd
had sppsereds streaming along in front of the

 

ne of them were running, and all were much ex-

pparently.
ae improvised litter. -

loud cries + WEFE rising { 108: a surgeon: .

Batpeca |

 

Sioux war-_

Then —

But West Point was still a run to the good—and the |
est Point fans went right on roaring and singing their

ney stopped, and he faced round ae the hte oa ~ seemed to extend interminably along the right-field fence

ee it enough steam. And perhaps that song the

And before them was borne a human

WEEKLY.

     

Dick Merriwell was with the men in front. But the
litter with the man, and the streaming crowd, passed
on toward the dressing rooms; and Dick re
turned aside, coming up to the Yale bench.
Instantly he was surrounded, and pelted with ginees ‘:
tions: ie
“It’s the organ grinder,” he explained. “He was struck t.
by an automobile. Only the surgeon can tell how badly
he is hurt. We'll talk about it later. How’s the game?”
“West Point four—Yale three. Oh, it’s awful! This Me
is the opening of the ninth.” fe
Sidney lifted his foot, swung, and the ball shot over
the rubber. i
“One strike!” said the umpire. eB
“The ninth just beginning—no men out; oh, we've ;
got a good show!” Merriwell declared. “You can do it.
Eli doesn’t lie down without first making a great battle
for the blue.” .
Mentally he saw the batting list, noting who was at
the bat.
“Is the organ grinder Porf
Dick waved the Yale questioner Ber
“Don't start it up now; we can’t talk now—we've got
to win this game!” ;
Sidney opened brilliantly 2 West Point by stihl
out Flitch. Soberly, with a tingling realization of what
he had done, the Yale shortstop dropped the bat, a sud-
den pallor overspreading his face, and walked toward the. geo
bench. ae
“Next batter up is Hartzell,” came in the voice of the eee:
umpire. Oe
Apparently the influence of _Merriwell’s return and |
presence in the field was felt by Hartzell.

His shoulders. squared and he stood up as with an air
of defiance as he faced Sidney. Then the fans were
given a thrill, when he cracked a drive past third that
looked like a two- -bagger.

But the umpire called it a foul, and called him back.

Again Hartzell faced Sidney—the two men seeming
to eye each other as if measuring strength. The ball
came whistling in. ‘

Crack! | 7

It was a grounder. Hammond fumbled it at third;
then made a wild throw to first, which let Hartzell take
second. The Yale fans let out a great yell, ee

“Next batter up is Phillips,” the umpire announced.

As Jim Phillips took up the timber and went to bat,
Hartzell was making a bluff of. playing On second, but.
was watched closely by Sidney. —

Jim Phillips knew what was expected of him. But ide
did not, let his sense of responsibility weigh him down,
as too often happens. Merriwell was there. :

Somehow that seemed to lend him strength. a

He glanced about while Sidney was watching Hartzell
—a comprehensive flash of the eye that took in every-.
thing, the diamond, the outfield, and the bleachers tha

 
  
 
  
  
   
  
  
   
   
 
   
  
  
 
   
  
   
    
   
  
  
 
   
   
  

 

 

 

 

 

     
    
   
     
      
 
    
    
      
 

 

  
      
  
      
     
       
   
     
   
     
  
 

   
      
   
  

   
     
  
 

He saw the possibilities, if he could place the ball and

  
  
   

oint men had been roaring helped and hardene
determination, Then he faced Sidney,

Sidney swung round, put up his arm in the f
way, and shot the ball over. Phillips. ae,
ee a better one, and ag it 0 ae Yt einen

“One strike at i

    
 

  
 
 

  

 
     

    
SP LOL

. Sidney tried an outcurve. Phillips did not like it, and
| thought it would not pass over the plate; and let. that
go by.
“One ball!’
_ Then another “ball” was called.
\ Sidney now pitched a drive curve over the middle of
| the plate. It looked good to Jim Phillips—just the thing
_ he was wanting. Meeting it with a wicked smash, he
_ drove it into the right-field bleachers—far down.
| The coachers broke loose; the stand and the bleachers
roared. Hartzell came home from second. Going like
a greyhound, Jim Phillips passed first, second, third;
_- and, then
+ “Go—go home!” screamed the coacher at third.
home! Home!”
It was a horme-run drive.
| given the thrill of their liyes.
That was all for the Yale men. But it gave Yale five,
to the four of West Point; and the Yale boys hoped
it was enough.
The cadets were plainly nervous when they went to
the bat. The Yale men were joyous.
Harry Maxwell, one of Jim Phillips’ close friends, sit-
ting flat on the ground near the front row of bleachers,
_ had out pencil and paper and was trying now to prove
himself a poet.
In the pitcher’s box Jim Phillips stood ready to cinch
the game for Yale, or pitch his arm off. And he made
i good.
It was a string of strike-outs—one, two, three; and
oe Yale had won.
| _ A little knot of Yale men, as the game ended, gath-
ered round Harry Maxwell, and hilariously they roared
out the words of his triumphant song:

 

“Go

And the fans had been

 

  
  
  
    
  
  

  
   
 
        
     
   
       
     
     
     
     
 

 

“West Point found out that she hadn’t the goods—
When Phillips hit over the fence.

The watriors of West Point went hunting the woods—
When Phillips hit over the fence.

“Phillips’ fine pitching’s an epic of glory ;.

He sure has the goods—and that’s not a story! :

And West Point’s bold sons are now battered and gory—
For Phillips hit over the fence.

 

“One run ahead!’ Oh, they thought it was certain—
_ But Phillips hit over ‘the fence!
Oh, their dream of success got the asbestos curtain,
‘ When Phillips hit over the fence!

“Ah, there goes his tineli- deal bold Hartzell is running ;
“West Point's got her: plexus—a blow that is stunning!

_ Old Yale wears the scalp for which she came gunning!

3 Se ee oe hit over the fence!”

CHAPTER X.
THE MYSTERY CLEARED UP.

e surgeon’ s assistant came out of the dressing room
to which the injured man had been borne. In his
mds he had some sheets of paper. And he looked
, until his eyes lighted on Dick Merriwell.

  

  

him questions. —
the man who is ‘hurt is not Porfitio Duranzo,”
nswered. “IT don’t know his name, and Oliver
But he seems to be ath Italian.”

iana i e f

  

  

 

Yale men, surrounding Merriwell, had been ask-_

» Omaha Oliver said

that time to get out of New York.’

-

WEEKLY.

-and there he tried to kill another: man that was his

well.
to try to kill anybody with a bomb; but he would not

‘ must have the money.

    

      
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
 
 
  
    
   
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  

oe

the organ grinder was toddling along the road, and, at
a turn, an automobile ran him down. It was going at
high speed, and went right on; perhaps because those —
in it feared arrest. Oliver was shadowing the organ
grinder at the time, and that is how he happened to see
it. He.thought the dago was dying, he said; then he
hustled here to get me.”

“How did he get in?”

“He said he climbed the fence, and I suppose he did.
But, really, I didn’t have much ‘time to talk with him.
And dread of that jail kept him from coming: back. So
I don’t know where he is now. But we must credit him
with courage in coming here for help, and for a sense
of humanity, too.”

Dick was flinging out these explanations when the sur-
geon’s assistant saw him and came up.

“That Italian is beyond help,” he said, “and he can’t
last long. But he came round temporarily, and I wrote
down what he had to say.- Did the best 1 could with it,
and have got it here. It was on his mind, and he had
to get rid of it. When we understood the drift of what
he was saying, we asked some questions, and I guess
we got all of it. It’s a queer thing.”,,

He beckoned to some West Point men.

“Come over here,” he requested.

“We're all interested in this,” he declared, when the
West Point men had joined the group. “Some of it con-
cerns that assault and robbery last night, and one of out
own fellows.”

Then he read what he had hastily set down:

“My name is Diego Lipiana. My home is in New
York City. I came to this place because I wanted to
get out in the country and play an organ, and also be- —
cause I wanted: to help my friend, Porfirio Duranzo.,
He was hiding from the officers, and came to me in the ;
city; for we are members of the same Latin brother- —
hood—a secret organization which spreads all over the —
world; and I had before met him. When I had met him
before, in New York, was after he had -tried to kill
the high officer of his country, in Washington City. He
was then hiding in New York,. and I met him; and we
found out that we were Latin brothers. I helped him at.

      
        
 
     

“And. then he went to a place that is called Yale,

enemy; a very big man there, that is called Dick Merti-
I told him before he went that it was very foolish.

   
 
  

   
     
    
    
 
      

listen. And then he came back to New York, and came
to me again; and I hid him in my home, while. the officers
were hunting for him.

“He wanted to get out of this country, and go back
to his own country, and he had no money—and I had not
much that I could spare; but he had a relative, a nephe
at this place that is called West Point, where they ma
the American soldiers; and he wrote to that man, using
my name, Diego Lipiana, so that the police might. not
know. And the man wrote to him, using that
the letter; and it was brought to me, and I gave 1
Porfirio Duranzo.’ But he did not get the money w
he must have; for he must get Rete, and to lo so

  

  
 
  

   
     
    
 
  

 

   
       
   
    
 
 

 

 

“So I was coming to peiey my organ in
the river; and he that I :

   
   

 
   
   
  
  
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
 
   

whose name is Eugenio, and who is one of the soldiers
at West Point. And I took the letter—for it was to show
that I have come from him, Porfirio, when I meet Eu-
genio, And I hid it in my organ, with some money that
I had and must keep; for money was hard to get,

-and I did not trust the banks. And when I got to
this West Point I am robbed of the money and the
letter.

“I-had seen men get out of the train at the station,
and I heard the shouting of the young soldiers, which
said that Yale had come there; and that name it scared
me, when I remembered about Dick Merriwell, and what
I had in the organ—the letter; and the young soldiers
shouted Merriwell. So I was frightened. But when
they had gone on, I hid the organ and walked quick
along the road, for I wanted to see where the young
soldiers lived, and how I could, perhaps, find Eugenio.
_ And then, when I went back, my organ had been broken

and robbed. :

“And that night—it was last night—Porfi rio he came
himself; he is there in the road, when I meet him. He
“could -not stay in New York longer. So he had come
-to see this Eugenio, and get money; for, as I said, he
- must get himself quick out of the country. And _ that
_ game night, close by the houses where the young soldiers
stay, he met Eugenio. I was with him when they met;
~ and it was because Eugenio had come out, and he had
gone up there; and they both thought that perhaps in
; the darkness they could meet. And Eugenio, when the
talk was about the money, which Eugenio did not have
enough of, said that it was too bad that they could not
have money like the paymaster had; for the paymaster
had that day brought money from New York, But when
Porfirio said he would have that money, Eugenio said,
‘No, it must not be!’ For Eugenio is a soldier, and
> he would not permit that. But Porfirio says that he will
have the money, and he goes to the houses. I am with
him, but ‘I do not know that he intends to do that, And
Eugenio is with him, and tells him he must not go where
the houses are. And then we turn back, and Eugenio
es away.
s“But after a ita. Porfirio says that he ‘will have

   

    
 

‘looking for it.
-see by a table a man counting money. And Porfirio gets
“his knife and goes in where the man is.
enly Eugenio comes running, when the man has been
knocked down; and he says that it must not. be. And
1e begins to. fight against Porfirio; and Porfirio’ strikes
‘im with his knife. And then Eugenio, he runs away.

Mien are coming, and Porfirio gets out, and -he has the
noney ; and together. we run. |
that I need some of that money, he gets mad and
That is all.

e is. ‘Except that when I am on the

hi
rt

   
 
 

  

i

, ning uy enio ees
prise to ht s We t Point.

TAP POP

TO TIP TOP READERS:

of thorough!

the money if he can find it; and we go among the houses,
And by and by, through a window, we

And then sud- |

popular professor is missing, but turns up in tim

ut when I say to Por-—
me, and leaves me, So that now I do not know ©

, struck, and after that I am brought here; and _
> not. en that i am n going to live. os I esse: to ell: j e

Phen 8 fee Shes the ‘Tre Tor. baseball champions
_ ‘These nines are now playing ball at every
Teams that have not yet entered should —
_ in coupons at once, in order to get a good st

WEEKLY.

 

Dick was glad now. that he had not put his suspicions aor
against the young cadet into actions.

He was further pleased, when later he learned that
Eugenio’s fear that he would suffer at. West Point be-
cause of Porfirio and his correspondence with the Val-
divian, who was his uncle and namesake, was ground- |
less. ca

When the matter had been sifted, the West Point au-—
thorities declared they discovered nothing that would
prevent Eugenio from passing with due honor to the | |
grade of first lieutenant. d

But before Dick and the Yale men left West Point
for their return to New Haven, the following letter came _
to him through the West Point post office, having been | -
dropped into a rural-delivery box somewhere out on the |
highway : . _

“DeeR Merrtweii: I skipt out becoz I was afrade |
to stay. And I mist seein’ the game, too, becoz I was |
follerin’ the Eyetalyun. But if I hadn’t follored him, I }-
wudn’t seen that, That money that was took from me I —
took from the dago, jest as I said. And I didn’t have —
nuthin’ to do with knockin’ the man down; though I |
was hidin’ clost by when it was done, and I was a ne
fool that I didn’t git away before I was found thare,
Now it’s me for the highway. If that jail sees me agin —
it will be when I can’t run. But I hoap to mete you
again. And I am ferever youre friend, me

“OMAHA OLiveney? mee

x e
Fe es ee ee ee ee ee

   

As for Porfirio Duranzo, he was not found,

 

“THE END,

     

Recommend to your friends, boys, the new series
original and strikingly novel baseball
Stories, by Burt L. Standish, now running in TIP
TOP. This new baseball series pence in Number 834

 

 
        
  

   
   
  

    

“Dick's Metriwell's Evidence; or, Yale’s Left- handed
Victory,” is another racy baseball story, telling of a
dramatic game between Yale and the University of Pen:
sylvania—to appear in next week’s Tip Top. A
freshman plans to give a forbidden dinner at a tin
when the sophomores will be off their guard, A ball
player is captured by freshmen, and then comes some
clever strategic moves: by the sophomores, | le: very ur

    
   
   

   
    
   
   

   
  
   
 

make a great “fuss,” only to find himself in
fix. The story contains much that i is entertaining abo 1
Yale life and—that ball pattie: is ate ee ae S
ne bys out May 11th.

     
  

  
    
    
 

a.

* —_"
— oe

PN ntl Na

“TIP TOP's roman ON
Various baseball teams throughot

,
‘)

 
 
   

 
  

  

 
 
 

  

 
    

the season toward winning the new set of
- the championship pennant,
All Phe a. Pe to os ie;

 
   
   

me

eh OTN,

 
Jip TO

pie

ning the new uniforms and the pennant. Information
_ regarding Tip Tor’s Baseball Tournament will be found

 

it | elsewhere in this number. Read that announcement. It

ms will so interest you that you will at once get all the

\- boys on your nine to clip Tip Top coupons.

ey Remember! Every time you send in a coupon, you’re
that much nearer to winning a new unform outfit for

asp your team.

os —-———<4 + 0-- _____—

e

THE MOCCASIN LODE.

: : By LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE.

Be aee | SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING CHAPTERS.

eas Dick Sturgis, of the firm of Hillis Briggs & Co., Wall Street

_ stock brokers, receives a call from Mrs. Chardon and her

ra daughter, Grace, who seek facts relating to mining stocks
| inherited from Mr, Chardon. The stock is that of the Moccasin

€ | Gold Mining Company, of Phoenix, Ariz. Sturgis promises to

S| look the matter up. Feeling worn out from overwork, he con-

] |» sults a physician, who advises him to go to the Southwest for a

yo long rest. Before leaving New York, however, he consults the

_ | files of a newspaper, seeking information of. the Moccasin

ie ~ Company.

g CHAPTER III.

TWO WOMEN —AND STURGIS.

4 He turned at once to the earliest issues of the paper
- which had been provided him; and almost immediately his
_ | search was rewarded by a half-page display in a Sunday
| issue—something to the following effect:

| “MOCCASIN GOLD MINING AND DEVELOP-
: MENT COMPANY
ae OF PHOENIX, ARIZONA.
te THUNDER VALLEY.
ae | THE KLONDIKE OF ARIZONA!

“The Thunder Valley Gold Mine has paid regular
monthly dividends for three years, never missing a single
month, averaging one per cent a month, or twelve per
cent a year. Its stock, which was offered the public at
hree dollars, now sells for from eighty to ninety dollars.
“Its ore averages five dollars per ton, and is free mill-
‘ing. With the modern processes this ore pays a profit
over two dollars per ton on each of the three thousand
tons crushed daily. The Thunder Valley Mining Com-
any gets its ore from a vast body of vertical formation
hree hundred and ninety feet wide which runs through
eir property. There is an abundance of ore in sight to
the crushing plants for an untold number of years.

THE ‘MOCCASIN GOLD MINING AND DE-
ar VELOPMENT COMPANY

ns a magnificent property immediately adjoining that
the Thunder Valley Mining Company. Its officers and
irectors are practical mining men, who have earned en-
ible reputations for their ability and integrity. They

tched the wonderful developments in Thunder Valley
| quietly acquired options on claim after claim until
r now control a splendid tract of land five hundred
es in extent.

‘Shafts are now in process of being sunk within two
susand feet of the wonderful Singleton Hoist of the
inder Valley. Mining engineers have delivered an
inion that ore will be reached within two hundred feet
surface. As soon as this ore is actually reached,

 .
~

  
  

 

 
  

    

 
 

 
 

  

  

   
 

 

fiding.

me 2 at the! een BECr, two a and ‘Abty

    
    
  
  
  
   
   
   
  
   
     
 
  
   
   
   
 

WEEKLY. 19
cents a share, will go to four and five times its-par value *

—five dollars.

“Mining on strictly scientific principles is the surest
business in the world. Other industries suffer from crop
failures, overproduction, and trade depressions, but

 

“The world always buys gold at a fixed price!
“NOW IS YOUR CHANCE TO GET ON BOARD
THE BAND WAGON!

“We earnestly advise that you suffer nothing to pre-
vent you from promptly purchasing this stock. To-day
it can be had for two dollars and fifty cents a share—
five dollars par value—to-morrow it may be three dol-
lars and fifty cents; next week, five dollars. The stock
offered is full paid, nonassessable treasury shares, sold
solely for. development purposes. It will be listed on the
various mining exchanges.

“DO IT NOW!

“Address all communications and make checks pay-
able to
“HEZEKIAH P. JONES & CO.,

Fiscal Agents,
New-Wall Building, New York City. ey
“Branches in Boston, Philadelphia, Chicago, and -
Phoenix.” . aie

Sturgis had one remark to make after a thorough.
study of the document. It came out explosively at oe i
end of a long, silent whistle: ce

“Fake!”

Disheartened, he skimmed through the following issues
of the paper. For several.months Moccasin had been a
large advertiser, it seemed, *

Day after day its alluring prospectus appeared Erato
announcing that a limited number of shares would, to.
all intents, be given away to a public trustful, and con-

 

        
 
   

“Why, it’s practical philanthropy !” Sturgis admired
ironically. ;
‘The stock had been advanced in price, according to
promise. Within two months from the appearance of the ©
first advertisement, it was being offered at three dollars
per five-dollar share. Later it went to three dollars and
fifty cents, and later again a dividend was declared flatunt-
ingly, and the price advanced to four dollars and fifty

cents.
And then, apparently, Moccasin had died a natural
death.
Sturgis made a note of the financial agent’s address and
trotted down to Wall Street again; but Hezekiah P. Jones
& Co. had long since removed from their expensive suite
of offices on the*second floor of the New-Wall Building '
—so Sturgis was informed by the janitor.. Nor could
that gentleman nor the agents for the property advise
eee as to whither Hezekiah and his “company” had
own é
“All up!” concluded Sturgis. “Another bald-headed
fake. I told you so—there now!”
But he was not disposed to treat the matter unig
ously. It was anything but that. Sturgis: foresaw ve
clearly that, unless he could materialize something sub-
stantial on Moccasin, the woman he loved and her mo
yeas be likely to suffer. Pvt
And the thought was keen pain to him. |

ae use semis he Aer on a

          
         
         
       
        
    
      
       
     
 

   
   
  

    
 
 

  

     
 
      
 

  

20 TIP TOP

 

“Grace simply must have me, and that’s all there is to be
said. I can’t see her wanting the slightest thing in the
world. And as for ‘Moccasin’—fudge!”

But, when he called at the East Sixty-fifth Street home
that evening, Mrs. Chardon fluttered up to him, palpitant
with excitement.

“Dear Dick!” she cried.
ing |”

She had known Sturgis for a long time and looked
upon him as a very nice young man—but not good enough
for her daughter, of course; occasionally she mothered
him ponderously, to Sturgis’ embarrassment. “Now, I
do hope you haven’t been worrying yourself about that
wretched mining stock, Do you know ,;

She appropriated his arm and led him aside, into an
embrasure of a window, where they could not be over-
heard. Her manner became too confidential, too absurd.

“Do you know, Dick, I do believe that we are going
to realize something on this Moccasin?”

‘Why ?” asked Sturgis blankly, opening his eyes.

“Because’—impressive pause—‘I’ve just received an
offer for my holdings, Yes, I have!”

“From whom?” demanded Sturgis.

Mrs. Chardon compressed her lips, and nodded her
head with an air of great complacency.

“From the president of the company,”

“President? Of what company ?”

“Of the Moccasin Gold Mining and Development Com-
“pany, Dick; and I must say that he is one of the nicest,
most courtly old gentlemen J: have ever met.”

“Tell me about it—all,”’ Sturgis pleaded helplessly ; this
was the very last thing of which he would ever have
dreamed.

“He called this afternoon, about five o’clock,’” Mrs.
Chardon told him. “Sent up his card to me: Mr. Ga-
lusha G. Simpson. I just couldn’t imagine what he
wanted, but I saw him. He told me that he was the
president of the company, and spoke in the most feeling
way of my late husband, whom, it seems, he had ‘known
_ slightly in other days.”

Mrs. Chardon paused, quite overcome by the memory
of Mr. Simpson’s sympathy. Sturgis was disgusted—
with them both.

He was a man of penetration in the fasts of char-
acter, and was possessed of a shrewd suspicion that
Mrs. Chardon’s too excessive grief was but skin deep;
that she would not have been so terribly broken up by
the recollection had her financial prospects been brighter,
As.for Simpson—“Sleek faker; I know the breed,” Stur-
gis summed up mentally. '

“He told me’—Mrs. Chardon was recovering—“that
the company was about to go into the harfds of a receiver.
The property, he says, is valueless; he and his associates
' were led into buying it through the misrepresentations
of a swindling mining engineer, All the money acquired
by the sale of stock has been sunk in developing the Moc-
casin lode—with no return after the first month or so.”

“But he wants to buy your shares, nevertheless?” com-
mented the skeptical Sturgis.

“Yes. He admits that it was he who induced tnly poor
husband to invest in Moccasin; he thought it a—a—really
a gold mine, you know, And his conscience has been
troubling him since the business turned out the way it
has. He says that he cannot rest until he has made some
Sort of restitution. He offers me fifty cents a share—

“How worn you are look-

 

said she.

 

WEEKLY.

all he can afford—about half of what Mr. Chardon paid,
Mr, Simpson says.’

Sturgis computed: ‘Three hundred thousand shares at
fifty cents a share, That’s one hundred and fifty thou-
sand—one-tenth the par value of the securities,”

“Well, Dick? What would you advise?”

“What did you tell him?”

“TI told him that I had placed it in your hands—in the
hands of a young friend of mine in the Street. I didn’t
mention your name, I said I would consult with you.
What do you think?”

“Well—at the first blush, I’d say: Take the one hun-

dred and fifty thousand dollars and be thankful. But I
tell you frankly, Mrs. Chardon, that’s a whole lot of
money for a man to be willing to pay in order to secure
a clear conscience, I don’t know that I’d take so’ much
stock in Mr. Simpson’s conscience. Seems to me that he
has a deeper motive, Give me a week to look into it
more thoroughly, Mrs. Chardon.”

“But don’t you think I’d better accept before Mr, Simp-
son withdraws his offer ? He might change his mind in
seven days, you know.”

The sum offered her loomed as large on Mrs. Char-
don’s fiscal horizon as fifteen millions did on Sturgis’,
who was used to the manipulation of huge sums in stocks.

“He’s not likely to. More probably, he will raise his

bid—if he really wants that stock. And it looks as if —

he does.”

It was something of a task to persuade the woman,
In the end she gave in—but only when Sturgis had volun-
teered to forfeit $150,000 from his private fortune in
oy Simpson withdrew and the stock turned out value-
ess

Which may be taken as an illuminating comment on
the character of Mrs. Chardon,

But Sturgis had other business, of a nature more per-
sonal, in the Chardon household that night.

He manufactured an opportunity for it, in the end suc-
ceeded—found himself alone with Grace. He was very
businesslike—prompt, that is, to speak.

; “Grace,” he began soberly softly, “for the eighth time
She turned toward him appealingly,
“Dick!” she pleaded,

“Fact, Grace, I’ve kept careful count,
before. This makes eight-——”

“Oh, I wish you wouldn’t!”

There was a pained expression in her eyes—which
Dick either could not see, or chose to disregard. He per-
sisted bluntly :

“Will you marry me?”

“Oh, why zill HO

“Well, then, won’t you marry me?” |

“Dick |—I can’t! You know I can’t!”

The humor that lurked always in the corners of Stur-
gis’ mouth softened its hard, hurt lines,

“Upon my word,” he said, as if to himself, “by honest
count that makes nine—twice to-night, you know. Grace,
Til be—jiggered if I see why you can’t!
added quickly, “there’s another chap?”

“No,” she whispered, lowering her eyes,

“Then is it that you don’t love me?’ Or that you do?
—-wish it was !—-or—or Well,” he eer coe
edly, “I must be an awful duffer !”

She looked up. “Why ?”

Seven times

 

“Because I can’t see the hole in the millstone that’s sO a

 

Unless,” he '

 

 

 

 

 
: plain to you, Grace. If there’s any reason on the face of
2” the earth
, | . “Pl tell you, Dick. You ought to know. Once and
_ for all time, I simply cannot consent to saddle you with
‘the burden of two penniless, extravagant women .
| “But!” he protested, “you're not penniless!”
' She smiled upon him sadly.
'_ “T see more deeply and clearly than mother,”
. | laconically.
3 “Besides,”
any difference.”

 

 

she said

Av

he argued obstinately, “that doesn’t make

“Oh, but it does to me! Have I no pride, Dick?”

 
  

   
    

 

pe 4. Well.” For the time being he gave it up. _. It
f | was too much for him. He was such a stupid duffer,
, | anyway.

% | Nevertheless, he thought out a second brilliant line of
, | attack.

, |.“ Then,” he said suddenly, “you don’t love any one
YD else?”

fe ~ “I told you

 

 

» There was a Erigiiies look in the girl’s eyes now.
She foresaw, and feared, what came,

  

 
 

me? pI

“T—T—no——”

“Grace’ ‘he leaned toward her, fixing her gaze with

his—‘‘can you look me in the eyes and say that you
on’t love me? Can you? Can——”

“JT—I-—Dick——”

-“Tell the solemn truth, Grace!” he wagned her, half

wughing, half serious.

Unfortunately she was unable to evade his eyes,
rocrastinated and was lost.

  

  

She

  

     

imulation of indignation.
orner me this way. I
“But you can’t say it?” i insisted.

She hung her head; and Sturgis was fain to bend his
er to. catch the soft murmur of her voice:

 

 
 

e€ arose. “Tt’s all right, ica
ently. ‘Promise me this——”
“What?”
“That, if I make you a fortune equal to mine, you ll
ry me?”
ee,

weetheart !” Dick gasped, under his br eath.
nails into his palms and controlled himself.
” he added, with an air of finality.
“How? Pe
> of emotion—but, womanlike, had yet room for

    

  

He nee

  

  

  
   
 
  

: : “Moccasin,” Dick began, optimistic.
Oh, it ea Her lip curled scornfully, deprecat
; stoc ks

  

 
 

that stock, or——

that he had not done for months,

  

s ears—still humming the tune. Suddenly. the
ceased, He sat up, staring into the darkness, —

TIP TOP WEEKLY, 5 21

_ at least.

“And,” he pressed his point home, “you don’t dislike —

“Tt’s not fair of you, Dick,” she cried, attempting a_
“You haven't any right to

he -announced confi-

- Beaver’s time, but he remembered it, knew something at —

mie

She was blushing, laughing, indignant, in a security.

_ insignificant investment.
t you believe it, Grace T'll make you a + fortune

went home—walked, singing a little tune; Vote. papers: such things as a man, once discredited, now pros-

- perous, might not care to have extant and would be will-
dressed, rolled into bed, and pulled the covers up i 1a

i nets snared nothing but fish, to his mind.
rge!” he cried, “my heart hasn’t bothered me —

rgot st about i it. Sane ee Oe _more or less intimately ; and”

     

     
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
   
      
   
    
     
     
      
       
    
   
      
      
     
     
     
       
   
        
     
      
 
  

He sank back and began to think Moccasin. Stock cer-
tificates danced, balletwise, before his eyes—visions of
green and gold—particularly gold—mines of it. oo

And then he sat up again, smitten with a thought. —

“Beavers,” he cried, petulant, into the blackness of
his room, “why in blazes didn’t I think of you before?” yl

This time he dozed off into deep, healthy sleep. | ca

CHAPTER IV. ae
MOCCASIN: A HISTORY.

Sturgis was an early riser—on the following morning,
By half past nine he was downtown, in the Wall
Street district,

He went to the étfices of Hillis, Briggs & Co. for
his mail, but left as soon as he had opened it, and turned
over to Briggs whatever was not personal business,

The rest, short,as it had been, had done him a wonder-
ful amount of good, if appearances counted for anything. a
Dick’s eyes were sparkling, his cheeks were glowing, his a
step was as brisk and springy as of old. ©

To-day, if ever, he looked the boy of twenty or twenty-
one,

He hurried down Broad Street to Stone, turned up
the latter toward the East River, and, a few steps from
the corner, paused and entered a dingy building of the
warehouse type peculiar to the vicinity.

He restrained an impulse to take the stairs two at a
time, remembering the physician’s advice to avoid undue |
muscular effort.

At the third floor he stopped and entered a door, upon
whose musty, grimy glass was the half obliterated inscrip-
tion: “ Vincent M. Beavers, Unlisted Securities.” >.

The owner of the name he found within. Beavers, a
character of the Street, a dealer in dead- -and-gone, long-.
forgotten, and generally valueless securities of defunct _
or dying corporations.

He was an old man with a young face—ruddy, faa
with snowy ‘hair, wearing an expression ever keen and_
watchful: not so much cunning as acute.

He was the possessor of an unfailing gies of iia
ment and of a prodigious memory.

Not a stock nor a bond had been dealt with, on ‘Change,
on the curb, or more privately—and ati

   
      
    
     
  

least of its history ; and the chances were ten to one that,
somewhere in the dusty piles of documents that cluttered
what he called, with grim appropriateness, his “morgue,”

might be found a few or many shares of this particular

Most of them, no doubt, would never again be worth
more than their intrinsic ‘value as waste paper; some
proved from time to time to be of greater value, re
paying Beavers a hundred and a ee re for h hi

 
 
   
    
 
   
 
  

_ Others were occasionally ‘sought and paid for. by per-
sons with unguessable reasons for desiring them.
_ He dealt also in dishonored notes and comme

   
   
 

   
     
   
     
     
 
 
    

ing to pay to have destroyed. If this savors some
of blackmail, it caused Beavers no sleepless ni

He was glad to see Sturgis, Auaciced father |

  
  
 

of service to the son of Dick's |

 
t

_ you see.
ably made up of graduated office boys—little sharpers. of

22 TIP TOP

He corrugated his brows, glaring dreamily at the cob-

_ webby ceilings.

“Moccasin,’ he mused. “But that’s a recent matter,
Dick. Why don't you bring the old man something more
| difficult i in the way of a nut to crack?

“Moccasin—it is typical of its kind: a property ex-
ploited for revenue only. That game is being played anew
daily—because another eager sucker comes into the world
every minute. The promoter, the president, and the di-
rectors get rich—and the fiscal agents; don’t forget the
‘fiscal agents.’ But the public bites—and gets poorer.

“Man named Chatters started Moccasin—a mine owner,
a prospector. Had been a mining engineer—discredited
through crooked business. But about Arizona: there
never was any gold to speak of in Arizona, compared
with Alaska, Colorado, or California. Of course, they
made a good thing of Thunder Valley—a legitimate busi-

- mess proposition that; but the place is worked out now,

I understand.

“But Chatters happened along just about the time
Thunder Valley was discovered. He was a little bit late,
but he managed to stake out a set.of claims right smack
against the Thunder Valley’s; got some capital and set
to work on them. It took about three months for Chat-
ters to realize that he had drawn a blank. Moccasin—
he called it ‘Happy Thought, or something of the sort,
at the time—was merely salted with gold, on the sur-
face. Nothing more: one of nature’s bunko games

“Chatters raked up what there was and sickened on
the job.
son, strolled in on the scene, and Chatters laid himself
out to take Simpson in. He was wasting his time; Simp-
son had long before cut his eyeteeth in the mining busi-
ness.

“But Simpson was looking for just such a proposition
as the Moccasin. He told Chatters what the claim was
worth, to a nickel, and pai ne-fiftieth
what Chatters had intended to ask—before Chatters could
get his breath.

“Then Simpson came on here to New York and or-

_ ganized his skin game, under the name you know, in-

-corporating under the laws of the State of Arizona. He
induced a man named Chardon to finance the scheme and
incorporated a company known as ‘fT Tezekiah P, Jones

& Co.’ to market the stock.

3 “Fight hundred thousand shares of common stock were

issued—no preferred and no bonds, Interest must be paid

on bonds, you know; common stock can worry along
forever on a mere dribble of dividend—if as much as
all that. Chardon’ got about a third of the shares in con-
sideration of the fact that he put up the money for the
_ offices, the printing, advertising, salaries for a month or

yt

two and running expenses to start on, and so forth.

“Simpson was president. One of his sons was vice.
nother was on the board of directors. Family affair,
The remainder of the board was very prob-

the Street in embryo—who served willingly in considera-

tion of perhaps five dollars a week in addition to their

cherkship’s pay, and did precisely whatever Simpson told

them to. They had to, if he used ’em, in this case. Simp-

n made them sign a resignation, undated, before they
e appointed—an old trick—mildewed.

‘They advertised lavishly, spending Chardon’s money
e water, Of course, they got returns. Things looked

Then a sanctimonious old sinner, named Simp-.

le, you ee Ree een next t door neigiver

WEEKLY.

to Thunder Valley, and all that. Another old trick. But
the public bit and bought shares at around two-fifty in
great hunks.

“When buying began to slacken, Simpson caused it —
to be announced that ore had been struck, and advanced”
the price to three dollars per share. Result—more bites.

“Meanwhile buildings were being erected on the prop-
erty, to show good faith, and Chatters’ old, abandoned
shaft was being enlarged and deepened. They purchased
from some of Simpson’s friends a good deal of expensive
machinery and installed it—stamps, and the like. All
this, you understand, was inoney being absolutely wasted,
so far as Simpson and his gang were concerned, although
they probably got a rake-off. It was done simply to ©
keep within the letter of the law and to make a pretense
of developing the property, according to their promise.

“After a while, when business began to flag a bit, Simp-
son paid a dividend of one per cent a month, for two or

three months, and sold more shares on the strength of

that—at three-fifty. And then a funny thing happened. .

“Of course, the claim was being worked in a lacka-.—
daisical fashion, with no hopes of ever getting results.
But one day the miners actually did strike a pocket—a
pocket with all the hallmarks of a good lead. It soon
petered out, but for a while Simpson was kicking him-
self, thinking that he had sold stock in a good thing. |
However, it served its purpose: Simpson sold a lot more —
shares at prices ranging well up toward par, I believe.

“But after that it was all up with Moccasin. No more
dividends were paid, Simpson stopped advertising. the
stock; ‘Jones & Co., Fiscal Agents’—actually Simpson,
as I happen to know—picked up its traps and flitted by —
night. In short, the property acted just like an old, worn- —
out mule; keeled over on its side, gave two or three con-_
vulsive kicks, and—died,”

“But what became of all the money sttbscribed fae
stocks | ?” demanded Sturgis, intensely interested,

‘Directors’ salaries that went into Simpson’s pockets,
compensation to the president and other officers for their
valuable services—and so forth,
residence up on Riverside Drive, snuggled up and en-.
joyed himself quietly for a little while ; and then came, out.
of his hole to organize another company—it’s oil wells
in the Beaumont district now, I believe. You'll see his
cards in the daily papers. Stock, probably . selling like
hot cakes—and, in all likelihood, to precisely the sam
set of suckers who snapped up Moccasin and found it.
nothing but a gaudy tinsel fly on a barbed hook.”

seavers joined the fips of his long, white, slender
Angers and contemplated them dreamily.

“Same old game, ‘Heads I win, tails you lose,’ ”
said. “It’s being worked in some new form every day
This, what’ we proudly term the ‘financial district,’ is
simply a burying ground for innumerable wrecks of ‘jt “i
such concerns. And the face of this broad land is dottec
with their abandoned mines; deserted derricks—empty
oil tanks, idle gold, silver, copper, lead, nickel mines
boom towns, gas wells—all gone to pot.”

“Where’s Simpson’s office now?” asked Sturgis

“Wait a minute and I'll tell you; I have his card he
somewhere on my desk. The old sinner came in he
yesterday to transact a little private business—to take u
some paper which I hinted to him was still in existenc
with his signature on the bottom line. He was quit
genial about it, and before he left said that he wanted
beh discreet young man for a a new office he w was opel

 

 

Simpson bought a-fine
: TIP TOP

ing up. I told him I knew just the chap, and he said to
send him over. I’m expecting the boy to-day. He hasn't
any hifaluting notions about honor, and he will just fit
Simpson’s business, I think. ;
“After all,” Beavers concluded, holding up a card, “‘it’s
just as Simpson says—he might as well get the money
as some one else. The shell game never wanes in popu-
larity, and the operators get rich invariably, you'll no-
tice. Here’s Simpson’s address: Room Eight Hundred
and Two, Skinner Building, Broadway, Well, good day.
Glad to have been of assistance. Don’t buy any of Simp-
son’s stocks. ‘Member, I warned you.” :
“7 won't,’ laughed Sturgis. ‘Thank you. Good
morning, Mr. Beavers,”

acta nd

CHAPTER V,
A “FISCAL AGENT.”

Sturgis went to lunch, and thought it all over with the
help of a good cigar,

From what he had learned of Simpson, doubt of the
man’s rock-bottom rascality could no longer exist in his
mind. ;

_ Therefore vanished any suspicion that may have lin-
' gered in Dick’s mind as to Simpson’s interest in Mrs.
_ Chardon’s stock.

It was very evident that the man was not of the type
who would be willing to part with one hundred and fifty
thousand dollars merely for that nonnegotiable commodity
—a clean conscience,

To the contrary, something peculiar was apparently
afoot, something which would tend to make the posses-
sion of three hundred thousand shares of Moccasin

stock a matter of overwhelming importance to Simpson.
Try as he might, Dick was unable to solve the problem.

It was to him a matter incapable of explanation, why
this man should be willing to spend a very considerable
sum of good money for a large number of. shares in a
defunct corporation—dead to all intents and purposes, at
least—which had been formed for the-sole purpose of

exploiting a mine known from the beginning to*be worth-
less.
| Unless But that seemed impossible.
-  “There’s only one thing that I can see worth trying,”
| reflected Sturgis, “and that is to go and have a look at this
+ fellow, Simpson, and, if I can, get, a line on-his little
game. I misdoubt that I'll be able to pump him much,
but it will do no harm to let him know that he is dealing
| with a real, live man, who knows the tricks of the Street,
{

 

 

“instead of a foolish old woman. At any rate, I’m un-
likely to be taken in by his courtly manners—as Mrs,
Chardon described them.”
He debated the matter with himself as he walked over
‘to Broadway and up to a tall skyscraper in the neighbor-
hood of the Standard Oil Building.
' He recognized it at once 4s an office building famed in
the district for the number of “shady” concerns which
_} assembled beneath its roof, as if seeking to absorb some
- of the atmosphere of financial solidity, if not probity,
- imparted to that section of Broadway by other more repu-
' table buildings.
‘An address on Broadway is as much a tangible asset
| to a concern seeking to delude the public as is an elab-
' orately furnished suite of offices. This particular sky-
| scraper was outwardly different from none of its neigh-
| bors. Only the initiated knew it to be a hive of “bucket

 

 

   

Agents,”

WEEKLY, 23
shops’’—-as concerns are known who make a business of
pure stock gambling, having no connection with the New
York Stock Exchange proper—of spurious mining com-
panies, of queer land-promotion companies, and of ques-
tionable investment corporations of every description.

Here they foregathered, birds of a common feather—
and that black; here they lingered for a space, in great
suites of rooms lavishly dressed with furniture of the
richest, until such time as they had disposed of their
“bargains,” and were ready to vanish from off Broad-
way—to disappear for a time, only to bob up again under
another mask with another specious offering for a credu-
lous public only too willing to be swindled.

“Upon my word,” Sturgis mused, as he hesitated me-
chanically before the huge white-lettered directory in the
lower hallway, vainly seeking for the name of Mr, Ga-
lusha G. Simpson, “Upon my word, I’m afraid my repu-
tation will suffer if.any of my crowd sees me down here!
However, I reckon I can stand it—for I know I shan’t
be able to rest until I get to the bottom of this busi-
ness |”

He stepped into the bronze cage of an elevator lined
with large mirrors, and permitted himself to be whizzed
aloft to the eighth floor at a rate.of speed that fairly took
his breath away, and made him feel as if he had left
some essential portion of his anatomy on the ground
floor.

The address Beavers had given him was room number
802, in the front of the building, Yet when he came to
the heavy oaken double doors of that office, he paused,
for an instant at a loss, Had he been mistaken?

The ribbed-glass sections of the doors showed no signs
of Mr. Simpson’s name.

They bore, rather, in huge gold letters—“‘regardless of
expense” —the title of “B, G. Squeers & ot Fiscal
below which, in smaller lettering, were the
names of the various industries in which Squeers & Co.
were interested; “The Beaumont Pipe Line Company,”
“The Nome Development Corporation,” and other of the
ilk, among whom, at the very bottom, was “The Moc-
casin G. M. & D, Co.”

“That abbreviation to initials is suspiciously noncom-
mittal, it strikes me,” said Sturgis, “but it looks as if I
were on the right track, anyway. Here goes for Bre’r
Simpson,”

He opened the doors and stepped within, to be con-
fronted by a massive partition composed, for the. lower
part, of mahogany; of plate glass and shimmering brass
gratings for the upper.

A narrow door—locked—was at one side of a small
window in the grating.

Evidently Squeers & Co, believed in protecting their
property from the assaults of outraged customers.

Within the inclosure was a vast expanse of heavy, rich
rug, with here and there an imposing desk—vacant.

By the windows three rather rapid-looking female
stenographers were hammering, as though against time,
upon typewriting machines; and a meek, mild, despondent
young clerk presided at the grating, Other occupants _
there were none, although three closed doors in the side
walls gave promise of further offices,

The deferential clerk looked up with a frightened ex-
pression as Sturgis entered, but the visitor's youth was
reassuring to him apparently, for he came swiftly to the
window and assumed an air of ingratiating humility.

“Good morning,” he said tentatively.

 
on Ae ate TIP TOP WEEKLY,

It was afternoon;

_ ¢ritical.
“Is Mr. Simpson in?” he inquired, characteristically:

direct.

“Mr. Simpson—why—er The young man stam-
-mered, very ill at ease. “I’m sure—we don’t know any
—Mr. Simpson.”

“What?” Sturgis stared in surprise.

“There is no Mr. Simpson ” began the youth.

Then Sturgis saw that he was lying—probably by in-
structions.

“Very well,” he said shortly. “In that case, please take
him my card.” He pushed the pasteboard slip beneath
the railing; the youth accepted it dubiously. “And,” con-
tinued Sturgis, with an inspiration, “tell him I’m just
from Mr. Beavers.”

“Ves, sir. Very well, sir.” Swallowing his falsehood,
the youth tripped over to one of the doors, opened it, ana
vanished.

Sturgis permitted himself a confidential grin.

“Lucky he knows Beavers,” he mused. “Otherwise I
would have been put off, I reckon. Simpson is evi-
dently not advertising his whereabouts. Wonder what
he’s afraid of, now?”

But Beavers’ name was to stand Dick in better stead
than as a mere introduction. In the course of a few
minutes the clerk reappeared. ,

“This way, sir,’ he muttered, shamefaced; “Mr. Simp-
son will see you at once.”

He ushered Sturgis into a second office, even. more
ostentatious than the outer one—were that possible.

A desk of infinite polish and vast capacity stood by the
window. Gilt-framed portraits of considerable merit dec-
orated the walls. A long table ran almost from wall to
wall in the middle of the room, its surface polished to a
mirrorlike gloss.

About it, solid, comfortable armchairs, upholstered in
a dark leather, were ranged—the whole investing the

apartment with ‘the solid financial atmosphere of the direc-
tors’ room of some great corporation.

In front of the desk by the window sat a man of per-
_ haps sixty years, and young for his age. He was large,
_broad-shouldered, portly; his gray eyes were keen and
steady, his complexion a healthy pink made the more
noticeable by hair the color of snow, and side whiskers as
white, carefully trimmed and brushed.

Fle was attired soberly, yet with the garb of prosperous
and responsible age, in a frock coat, gray-striped trousers,
spats, and patent leathers, while a waistcoat of consider-
able dimensions, and light i in hue, served to set off a heavy
gold watch chain and signet of the fashion of three dec-
ades gone.
And this was Mr. Galusha e Simpson.
“Come in—come in, Mr. Sturgis,” he cried genially.
“T’m glad to find you so» prompt.”
“Yes?” murmured Dick, rather. sticpeed
_“T have been expecting you this afternoon,” continued
Mr. Simpson, waving Dick toward a chair. “ Mr, Beav-
ers chien me to understand that you would call’ bese
0.
He did?” said Dick mechanically, wondering what on
arth had made Beavers do that. .

bo a cigar, Mr. Sturgis; of ccurse, after you

d the*office, you will not be permitted to smoke,

; but just eal ae Wwe are eee ee

but Dick was not disposed to be,

“Well!” thought Sturgis. “I’m blamed if he doesn’t
take me for. Beavers’ applicant for a job! Wonder if
I can carry the bluff through and learn something ?”’

“Il understand you are not employed at present?” con-

tinued Mr. Simpson.

Dick told the truth. CMO? he admitted.

“You have experience in the banking business, I be-
lieve, and—er * Mr. Simpson gesticulated largely,
embracing the whole office, “this sort of thing?”

ewOmMe, ” replied Sturgis modestly.

“Er—yes.” Mr. Simpson’s voice was carefully modu-
lated, his bearing the perfection of courtesy, as Mrs.
Chardon had led Stur gis to expect.

He trimmed his cigar, and passed Dick a match betand
using one himself. :
He drew deep inhalations twice or thrice, sighed with
satisfaction—Sturgis will bear witness that it was a good
and expensive cigar—regarding the young man penetrat-

ingly ere speaking again.

What he saw must have impressed him favorably.
Dick maintained a noncommittal attitude, striving to ap-—
pear as young as possible; although an effort to do ‘iat
was not strictly necessary on his part.

“You are twenty, or twenty-one, Mr. Sturgis?”

“Yes,” said Dick vaguely.

The man paused, and sat forward, as one who speaks:
with weighty words,

“Mr, Sturgis,” he said slowly and impressively, “I am
looking for some one who will be very loyal—to me; a
private secretary, in short—some one whom I can trust -
implicitly in all matters, to carry out my instructions and
to act generally for my best interests. Understand —
clearly: I am not seeking a man with a head full of non-—
oac about honesty, in a broad sense. Do you get ine?

66 es,” ‘

“I am willing to pay very well. The profits of my
business are considerable. From time to time I can put
you in the way of a paying proposition. You will not
regret it if you attach yourself to me, trust your fortunes _
to me.”

“T’m not so sure about hat ” thought Dick.
believe I shall, sir,” he said aloud.

“Where have you worked before, may I ask?” was the
next question.

“Hillis, Briggs & Co.,” hazarded Dick.

“In what capacity ?”

“Telephone boy on the Exchange floor,” Dick told him

v7 don't

—the truth, again, for as such he had started.

“And why did you leave?’

“W ell—er ” Dick faltered. “To be frank with you,
Mr. Simpson, I was throwing a good deal of the house’s
business in the way of a favorite two-dollar broker for
a consideration. You understand, sir, we were not e:
pected to play favorites,” He let tlfe lie slide smoothl:
“Since he doesn’t care for nonsense like common
esty,” Dick soothed his conscience, “he can stand for a
lie or. two.” _

“Yes, I see, And after that?” |

“T was with Baker & Wills for a while,” % said, n

ing one of the more notorious "bucket shops” we n he
‘recently been suppressed. i

“I think you will do,” concluded Mr. Simps
prolonged deliberation. He named a oe Ww
5 attractive to any vente ® man. Sia H

 
   

 

    
 
 
   
  
   
 
   
   
   
  
 

_| he was to report at Ne the following morning, and

hurried away.

_ ° Indeed, he was in too great haste to wait for the ele-
vator. He ran down the stair s, two at a time, utterly re-

-gardless of his doctor's warning, and dashed into the

public telephone booth in the main hall, giving Beavers’

number to Central when she answered.

He got the connection promptly. Cutting short the usual

fs _ preliminaries, he proceeded to at Beavers.

“T say,” he said breathlessly , ‘have you sent your young

friend to Simpson yet?”
“Not yet,” came the answer;

round, so far.”

“W hen he does, hold him, then,”
“T have a better position for him.”
“All right, but, I say ‘

— “Don’t send any one to Simpson, please, as a personal
favor to me.’ |

“IT won’t, but-——”

>. SL ve accepted the job myself, and I don't want any in-
terference.”

“What!” roared Beavers.

- Dick repeated his words.

“You?” cried Beavers, unable to credit his hearing.
“Tt’s all right—explain some other time—doctor told
“me to change my occupation for a while

Beavers began to laugh; for a moment the wire thrilled
‘with the vibrations of his uproarious mirth. Then:
“Well, go ahead. I don’t like Simpson any too much
myself, and I don’t care what you do to him.”
And Dick went home, chuckling all the way.
~“V’'ll know what’s the matter with Moccasin,
€ason why,” he promised himself.

“he is late—hasn’t come

said Dick thankfully.

 

o

 

  

 

  

  

or the

  

CHAPTER VI.
“SUPPRESS HIM WITHOUT FAIL.”

  

ss three weeks the new secretary to the president of
he Moccasin Company performed his duties with inward
rth, with much real enjoyment because -of the novelty
oO the thing, and also acceptable to his employer.

le learned a very great deal that was new and startling
him, in that length of time, concerning the manage-
nent. and promotion of the various pe which

ipson had on the ways.

He helped draw up the articles of ieneporation for
new enterprise designed to take advantage of a momen-
xcitement in Montana copper, and was appointed a
irector of the concern.

He advanced somewhat into the confidence of Simp-
on and was intrusted with considerable of the gentle-
nan’s private business.
particular, he took care of Simpson’s léss personal
tisiness correspondence, and had the honor of dictating
ral letters to Mrs. Chardon, strongly urging her to
e. advantage of Mr. Simpson’s beneyolent proposition.
ése he would himself mail, and in the evening discuss
Mrs. Chardon and Grace, 3
no use talking,’ ’ he would tell them positively ; ‘ ny

the man’s a blackleg. He isn’t in this business for

  

  

  
  
 

  

 
 

   

   
  

    

our holdings. Moreover, it may be possible to
er on them in full. Of course, as near as we can

   

almost worth See Ee ee

   

TIP TOP

will follow my instructions as to voting, you understand,

- further with the matter, you sign this undated resignation

-son. “Under our charter, that number entitles you to a

th—and if you wait you'll get a higher bid for

Moccasin cost Mr. Chardon something less than

ness. Ao my ‘mind, it will be eek the beets ing of:
ir per share, and if eats will pay you, ne a

WEEKLY.

  
   
   
   
  
   
    
   
  
  
  
    
   
  
  
    
  
  
  
  

“On the other hand, he is certainly mighty anxious to”
get them; and if he will pay one dollar, it’s a pretty safe
bet that they are worth more.’

In the course of two weeks his prediction was justi-
fied. Simpson instructed him to communicate with Mrs.
Chardon offering her, first, seventy-five cents; then, a
week later, one dollar.’

Sturgis obeyed. Mrs. Chardon was both surprised
and delighted, and also quite too excited; three hundred
thousand dollars; it was a sumptuous fortune to her!
Even Grace advised acceptance.

Dick had a good deal of strenuous talking to do before
they would accept his advice. But in the end they ad-
mitted that, inasmuch as he had been right before, he was
likely to be right again. They would let him manage
the campaign.

And to each of the letters Sturgis dictated the answer,
which Mrs. Chardon transcribed and signed, refusing the
bids.

On the morning following the third refusal, Simpson
was in a towering rage.

“Tt’s no use,” he told Dick mystically; “if we can’t get
the shares, the company. goes to the receiver—and then
she can whistle for her money.”

“Indeed ! !” said Dick to himself ;
teresting.”

Later in thé day, Sisipson cooled dew: and again sum-
moned his secretary.

“Sturgis,” he told him, “I’ve been talking to Beavers
about you, and he tells me that you have his unbounded
confidence.”

To do Dick justice, he blushed for very shame; but
Simpson, noting the unusual color in the young man’s
cheeks, took it as an indication of youthful modesty, and
was inclined to like him the better for it.

“T have been watching you myself,” he continued; “I
am well satisfied with:the way you do your work. Now,

I am going to trust you more deeply.”

“It’s coming!” Dick whispered exultantly. hod he
mumbled incoherent thanks, careful to keep the consist-
encies ‘of his part.

“There will be a meeting of the board of directare of j
the. Moccasin Gold Mining Company this afternoon,”
Simpson went on. “There are at present five members of
the board, and one vacancy. I have seen to it. that dre
are to be the sixth director.

“Three members are against me, two allied to my in-—
terests in the matter. I think that I can-swing them all
my way to-day, but with your vote and my deciding one, —
we have a majority which will carry any motion, You

 
   

“this grows mighty in-

      
     
   
        
   
   
      
    
      
    
 
     
    
    
   
   
    
    
       
       

  
 
      
 
   
 
 

on any and all business brought up before the board.

“You will receive some extra compensation, naturally,
for thus acting; and I must ask that, before we go an

 
  
 

  
 
 
 

  
   
 

from the board, to take effect at my discretion.”
Dick bowed, and silently signed.
“Here-are five shares of the stock,” concluded Simp-

  

 
 
 
  
   
 
 

seat at the board. The meeting is called for three o'clock:
this afternoon. I shall not need you again, until that.
hour. © That will be all, I think.” |

“But will it?” Sturgis inquired of his inner conscio S

  
    
        
       
  

fun!”

 
   
 
 
 

26

LIB DOP “WEERLY,

 

NEWS ITEMS OF INTEREST.

Easter Candy Egos Seized in Boston.

Boston was threatened with a famine in
Easter candy eggs as the result of a suit
begun by the United States district attor-
ney, following the seizure of more than 300
cases of candy eggs, alleged to contain
talc, in violation of the pure food regula-
tions. The candy was seized on complaint
of the local pure food laboratory.

Newspapet Editor. Heads Columbia School

of Journalism.

Talcott Williams, editor of the Phila-
delphia Press, was appointed head of the
Pulitzer school of journalism at Columbia
University. Associated with Mr. Williams
in the directorship of the school are John
W. Cunliffe, now head of the English de-
partment in the University of Wisconsin.
For the time being, in the absence of a
regularly appointed faculty, the direction of
the policy of the school will be in the hands
of an administrative board of nine, con-
sisting of President Nicholas Murray But-
ler, Mr. Williams, Professor Cunliffe, Dean
Frederick P. Keppel, of Columbia College,
and Professors William Peterfield Trent,
Henry Rogers Seager, James Thomas Shot-
well, Ashley H. Thorndike, and Charles
Austin Beard, all of whom are members
of the present teaching staff of the univer-
sity.

“Utah” Fastest Battleship.

Making an average speed of twenty-two
knots in her four-hour full-power run off
Providence, R. L, the battleship Utah, in
command of Captain W. S. Benson, low-
ered all previous speed records for battle-
ships in the United States navy. The de-
signed speed of the vessel was 20.75 knots.

The record wrests the speed laurels from
the Delaware, which in her preliminary
four-hour full-power trial made an aver-
age of 21.56 knots. In addition to the un-
expected speed performance, the ship’s
crew got higher percentages of speed revo-
lutions and horse power than the contrac-
tors.

In her trial the Utah burned only coal,
and it is assumed that had she flushed her
coal with oil, as would be the case in emer-
gency where added speed was necessary,
she would have come close to demonstrat-
ing that she had the advantages of the
widely heralded battleship cruisers of for-
eign powers in addition to her added armor
protection and gun power.

No Mote Advertising Signs in Ball Parks,

“In a few years advertising signs will
not be found inside the major-league park
fences,” said Umpire Billy Evans. “Not
so many years ago these signs were a fea-
ture to which club owners catered, to in-
crease their income.

“The coming of half-million- dollar parks,
however, spelled the death of advertising
signs.

“For a time it was customary: for adver-
tisers to offer rewards for hitting their
signs with a batted ball. One tan offered
a hat to the player hitting a hat, which was
no larger than a regulation derby. I don’ :

 

 

believe any one could have hit that sign
with a shotgun, let alone a batted ball. In-
stead of bringing business it drove patrons
away from the advertiser.”

Appropriation for a Parcels Post.

A parcels post system is provided for in
the regular post-office appropriation bill, in-
troduced by Representative Moon, of Ten-
nessee, in the House of Representatives at
Washington,

The measure would allow transportation
of eleven pounds of merchandise. As an
experiment, until June 30, 1914, on rural
mail routes on a graduated scale ranging
from five cents a pound for the first pound
and two cents for each additional pound.

The: appropriation carries a total of
$259,827.740, a decrease in. the department
estimates of $1,352,314.

Chairman Moon’s report disagrees with
the report from the post-ofhce department
that it has been self-sustaining, and finds a
deficit for the fiscal year 1911 of $62%,845.04.

Price of Rice Goes Up.

Cofisumers of rice may look for a heavy
increase in the price of their favorite ce-
real. The great world shortage is being
keenly felt, and the wholesale quotations
have been greatly advanced. Consumers
will have to pay double what they have
been ‘paying. The Southwestern supply has
been pretty well cornered and those who
control the available supply will reap hand-
some profits from holding. The California
crop, on account of seriously adverse
weather last summer, was seventy-five per
cent short, and the dealers have been bring-
ing large quantities from a distance. It
is the natural surmise that rice consumers
everywhere will be feeling the higher cost
of the staple.

Hen Lays Eggs in an’ Engine Cab,

Locomotive Engineer Michael Gorman,
of Sayre, Pa., has a new bird in his hen-
nery. It is a handsome black Minorca that
flew into the cab of his engine while the
train was speeding along near Black Wal-
nut and then proceeded to make a nest in
one corner and lay a fine, big, white egg.

Engineer Gorman says that while he was
running fifty miles an hour a large flock
of chickens swarming over the track was
disturbed. While all scattered, this one
flew. directly toward the engine, and the
suction of the train drew her into the open
cab door. Later the hen made a nest and
performed her daily egg duty.

America’s Greatest Hockey Player a
Princeton Man,

The all-American college hockey team
which ig annually’ selected by Coach, Horn-
frek,. of Princeton University, at. Prince-
ton, N. J., includes this year three Harvard
men, and ore each from Princeton, Yale,
Columbia; and Cornell, as -follows:

Goal, Cathart, Yale; point, Smith, Cor-
nell; cover point, Blacknall, Harvard: cen-
ter, Bates, Columbia; rovet, Baker, Prince-
ton; wings, Huntington, of Harvard, and
Sortwell, of Harvard,

In, commenting on Princeton’s sole repre-

 

 

than twenty-eight years old.

 

sentative on this seven, Coach Hornfrek
says:

“Baker, who is without question the
greatest hockey player in the country at
the present time, naturally has no peer
among college men.”

First Areoplane Honeymoon Trip,

The first genuine aéroplane wedding took
place at Avignon, France. The bridegroom,
a well-known aviator, named Voisier, flew
to a field next to the church where the wed-
ding took place.

Directly after the ceremony the airman
and his bride’ who was Mademoiselle Bre-
mond, mounted the two-seated Bleriot and
flew the one hundred and more miles sepa-
rating Avignon from Nice, where the first
part of the honeymoon was passed,

First Telephone Talk Between Colorado Sprin_s
and New York.

D. F. Dawson, of New York City, held
the first direct telephone conversation on
record between Colorado Springs, Colo.,
and New York City. He talked from his
home to a friend in New York, and the
three-minute conversation cost him $11.25.

Who Owns the South Pole.

The question of whether Norway owns
the territory surrounding the south pole,
which was recently discovered by Captain
Roald Amundsen, already is being discussed
by authorities on internati-nal law cover-
ing the ownership of arctic and antarctic
lands.

Ever since 1778, when Captain Cook’s
expedition planted a flag in the antarctic,
explorers of various nations have carried
the flags of their countries to various points
approaching the south pole. It is generally
believed the land in the antarctic will be
regarded much in the same way as Spitz-
bergen archipelago, which is inhabited by
men of various nations, and now is re-
garded as a joint possession of all man-
rind.

President John Bassett Moore, professor
of international law at Columbia Univer-
sity, New York, points out that leading au-
thorities have taken the position that dis-
covery alone does not suffice to give good
title to a new, unoccupied land, and that
the customs of nations for centuries has
crystallized into a part of law of nations
that in order to perfect the right given by
discovery it must be followed by SE
occupation

Professor Moore says that the task of
effective occupancy of the territory sur-
rounding the south pole, would undoubt-
edly prove more difficult than its discovery
and that it was extremely unlikely that the
question. of ownership would ever be

brought up to the joint commission om ar-

bitration for settlement.

“Old Doctor Crandall,” of the New York Giants,

Otis Crandall, who passes by the pseu-
donym. of “Old Doctor Crandall,”
He is: just
rounding twenty-seven, and is in full bloom
as a relief pitcher.

»

 

 

is less):

His name is on ie ron

ai ce a la et
;
SF:

 

 
‘bench until crises arise.

call of the New York Giants in 1912,
Crandall hopes that he will get his regular
turn on the slab during the approaching
season, instead of having to adorn the
He professes to
be in prime fettle, and led the other twirlers

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a hot and dusty pace at the Giants’ spring-
training establishment at Marlin Springs.

Bryan Talks Abvuut Presidential Prospects.

“We can prove by Mr. Roosevelt that
Taft ought not to be nominated, and by Mr.
Taft that Roosevelt ought not to be nom-
inated. I think both of them are right,”
said William J. Bryan, in his address to a

' mass meeting of Democrats, at Seattle,

. Wash.

He said that one reason why the Demo:
cratic party is on the way to success is be:
cause it preémpted years ago the grounds

s along which the road to prosperity must

run, He said the Republicans must come
over with the Democrats or keep off that
road.

“We-expected to have to fight for our
principles unassisted,” he said. “We never
expected the help from the Republicans we
are getting. If Mr. Taft is nominated, they
cannot withdraw the indictment that Mr.
Roosevelt had made against him. If Mr.
Roosevelt is nominated we will be in a po-
sition to suggest that if the Republican
party has fallen so low that only one man
in it is fit for President, they had better
get a new party and begin over.”

Vassar Forms a Fire Department of Girl
Students.

Vassar College, at Poughkeepsie, N. Y.,
now has its own volunteer fire department;
made up of young women students.

The new organization aims rather at sav-
ing life than fighting flames, and the girls
who have volunteered are being taught
oy the rudiments of first aid in case of

re.

Miss Louise W. Farnham, of New Ha-
ven, Conn., is the chief of the new fire de-
partment. Her official title is fire captain.

World-wide Regulation of the Wireless

elegraph.

The United States Senate committee on
foreign relations, at Washington, D. C,
agreed to report favorably to the senate
the international treaty for the regulation
of wireless telegraphy signed at the Berlin
conference November 3, 1906.

_ Representatives of the various wireless
companies were heard by the committee in
Opposition to the treaty. These arguments
expressed simply a desire on the part of
the wireless people that the government
keep hands off, which would have resulted
in the encouragement of a monopoly. The

' companies were unwilling to obligate them-

Sélves to accept communication coming
from any other company unless it suited
their private policy to do so.

Isit Propet to Whip Schoolboys With Rubber
: Hose?

Is it brutal and inhuman to whip a pupil
with a piece of rubber hose, and must such
an instrument of punishment be abolished
in Kansas schools? ‘This question caused
§reat excitement among the people of Iola,
an.

Thirteen-year-old Everett Urich started
\ the trouble several months ago by | failing
to-keep in line in marching into school.

rofessor Frederick Waiters applied the

 

TIP TOP: WEEKLY.

hose on Everett, whereupon the boy’s fa-
ther caused Professor Walters’ arrest on
a charge of assault and battery.

The justice court trial was almost a riot.
\ omen hissed the prosecutor and threat-
ened to pull his hair. Justice Duncan made
public the following statement:

“The most damaging evidence came from
Professor Walters himself in the shape of
the instrument used to punish the boy. This
was a piece of half-inch gas hose three feet
long.

“A mule would come out from a beating
with that instrument flying signals of dis-
tress. Does a boy deserve more considera-
tion than a mule?”

A French Newspaper for Beggats.

Among all newspapers certainly the most
curious is that called the Mendicants’ Jour-
nal, which recently began a semiannual pub-
lication in Paris, France. It is intended for
restricted circulation anfong the “elect,”
but copies of it have been seen, and the
government may commence operations’ on
its own account tending to suppression.

The columns of this newspaper are full
of advertisements, of which the following
are samples: ‘“Wanted—A man to play the
flute.” “At once—A cripple to supplicate
in wealthy districts. One preferred who
has lost his right hand. Person applying
must have references and give bond for
good faith.”

The newspaper also offers to supply lists
of centers where beggings may be pursued
most profitably, with names of persons
who may be approached. Facilities for ob-
taining costumes suitable for cold-weather
beggary are hinted at. Also a beggar well
recommended and able to pay may obtain
at the bureau of information of the paper a
list of important weddings, baptisms, bur-
ials and givers of social functions, together
with servants who may be “worked,” ar-
rivals of distinguished people, and so on.

 

White Woman on Government Books as an
Indian.

Living as one of the tribe of the Cherry
Creek Indians, near Wakpalla, S. D., is a
blue-eyed, white-haired, aged white woman,
who not only is not aware how ‘she came
to be with the tribe, but knows no word of
English, has no knowledge of the ways of
the whites, has an Indian name, and is car-
ried on the government rolls as an Indian.

Former Governor Harried, while hunting
on the reservation recently, discovered her.

It is supposed from what can be gathered
from the older Indians that her parents
were killed years ago by a hostile trife of
Sioux, and that she was adopted by the
Indians.

Quails Cost Twenty-one Dollars Each,

Brigadier General Clarence H. Edwards,
chief of the insular bureau of the war de-
partment, at Washington, D. C., returned
from a quail. hunt in North Carolina, and
the friends to whom he sent birds were
elated over having eaten the highest-priced
game on record.

“They cost me twenty-one dollars and
eighty cents each,” said General Edwards,
when he came back, “and I hope my friends
enjoyed them. As a result of my hunting

trip I am guessing at the time, for while

climbing over rail fences in North Carolina
I lost my watch, which was worth more
than all the quail in that State. I didn’t
figure in the value of the watch as an ex-

<p >
‘

 

27

pense of the hunting trip, but just added up
the regular expenses and divided them by
the number of birds.”

To Parole Life Prisoners After Serving Fifteen
Years,

Permanently depriving the Federal courts
of enforcing life sentences imposed, the
House of Representatives, in Washington,
passed a bill amending the parole law. By
the new bill, Federal boards of parole are
given sole authority to decide whether or
not a life prisoner, even though guilty of
murder, shall be free after having served
fifteen years.

The bill was introduced by Representa-
tive William S. Howard, of Georgia, who
stated that he was endeavoring to incor-
porate the recommendations of Federal
parole boards into law.

Howard’s bill provides that the record
of the prisoner, both before and after con-
viction, shall be the principal guide for ex-
tension of clemency. More than two hun-
dred life’ prisoners are now confined in
Federal penitentiaries. Some have already
served as much as twenty, twenty-five, and
even thirty years of the life sentences im-
posed upon them. All were convicted of
murder. )

Thirty-nine Thousand Seats for Olympic
Games Spectators.

Such a ran has been made for tickets: for
the Olympic games, in Stockholm, Sweden,
from June 29 to July 22, that the twenty-
nine thousand seats have already been dis-*
posed of, and the committee has decided to
add another grand stand to seat ten thous-
and persons. .Even with this addition it is
believed that there will be a lack of seating °
accommodation when the games open.

J. P. Morgan’s Steamship Company Not
Prosperous.

The Cunard Steamship Company, in Lon-
don, declared a dividend of 7% per cent
for the year 1911, as compared with only 5
per cent in 1910.

Nearly all shipping companies enjoyed a
greater measure of prosperity in 1911 than
in the previous twelve months.

But the gigantic shipping trust organized
by J. P. Morgan is still a long way from
earning anything for stockholders.

Paul Morton’s Successor in the Equitable.

John B. Lunger was elected vice presi-
dent of the Equitable Life’ Assurance So-
ciety by the directors. He will fill a va-
cancy which has existed since shortly after
the death of Paul Morton, the society’s
president, more than a year ago. William
A. Day, then vice president, was made
president, succeeding Mr. Morton, bitt no _
successor to Mr. Day in the vice presidency ~~
was named until recently. i <r

Mr. Lunger had been vice president of
the Travelers’ Insurance Company, ° of.
Hartford. :

New Coach for Yale’s Football Team,

Captain Jesse Spalding, of the Yale foot-
ball eleven, announced his coaching staff
for next season. Arthur Howe, captain
last season, has been appointed head field
coach, and James W. Scully and Edgar W.
McDevitt will serve as associate coaches.
They will compose the resident staff. Other
prominent alumni will be in New Haven,
Conn., for part of the season as assistants. _
Among these will be Jack Field, head coach —

,

 
 

28

last fall. The entire Yale corporation will
be present at the spring practice after the
Easter vacation.

The head coach of the freshman team
will be James G. Smith, 1912, of St. Al-
bans, Vt., and his assistant Wi lliam Otis
Waters, 1913, of Chicago.

No Repeal of Boxing Law in New York State.

There was considerable contention in the
State Senate, at Albany, N. Y., over the
committee reference of the Allen bill, abol-
ishing the State Athletic Commission, which
was passed by the Assembly. Lieutenant
Governor Conway assigned the bill to the
judiciary committee.

New Rules for “Free Agents” in Baseball

World,

In one of two decisions made public by
the National Baseball Commission, at Cin-
cinnati, Ohio, a new rule was adopted af-
fecting players known as “free agents.”

Player Charles A, Deal complained to
the commission that while a free agent he
signed with the Philadelphia National
League team at a stipulated salary for the
playing season of 1912. On reporting én
March 9 to go on the training trip with the
team he was informed that he had been
released to the Lancaster team, of the Tri-
state League, at a salary fifty per cent less
than he had signed for.

The commission anulled the release to the
Lancaster club and restored Deal to his
status as a free agent. The rule adopted
declared that a free agent who signs a con-
tract with a national agreement club and is
transferred without his consent to another
club, or is released without a trial, shall be
declared a free agent if the club’ ‘to. which
he is released does not assume the salary
his original contract calls for.

_ Aathor of “Sherlock Holmes’ Pleads for
Ireland,

Speaking at the dinner of the Liberal
Colonial Club, in London, England, at
which he presided, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle,
the author of “Sherlock Holmes,” made an
appeal for justice to Ireland.

“If England,” he said, “in a good. cause
drew her sword, then they knew the swords
of fifty allied ‘colonies and dependencies
would spring from their sheaths.

“Only one would be wanting, and that
not the least sharp or heavy,” said Sir Co-
nan, “the’ sword of Ireland would remain
sullenly by its side. We cannot allow that.
We wanted the gallant race upon our side.
It would be a great thing if’ the gift of
national self-government could have come
from England to Ireland, not. from an Eng-
lish party to Ireland. It is a-pity the meas-
ure could not be unanimous, but that was

not to be, and we’must gird up our loins for|

ee Jong fight., But if we fight patiently with
the. weapons of logic and charity, we surely
wl win.’

Steel hepa Says Lowet Tariff on Steel
Would Kill Business,

oA don't want to threaten, but if the Un-
derwood steel bill should become a law I
would go into court ald ask for a receiver
to protect our creditors,” declared William
Metcalf, a Pittsburgh manufacturer of cru-
cible steel, at the tariff hearing before the
oe finance committee, in Washington,
Mr. Metcalf said the reductions of -the

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TIP TOP. WEEKLY:

é that his
company had suffered a loss last. year and

House bill would bring disaster;

could not continue under material tariff
cuts.

“We hear a good deal about prosperity,”
he said, “but it is all in the newspapers, all

wind.”

Philadelphia Woman Presents Nell Gwynn
Relics to London Museum.

Mrs. George D. Widener, of Philadelphia,
has presented the London Museum, in Lon-
don, England, with thirty silver plates for-
merly the property of Nell Gwynn, the fa-
mous actress.

The presentation was announced during
the opening of the museum by King George.
The museum is established in a wing of
Kensington Palace where Queen Victoria
was born.

Italian Warships of the Air Hurl Bombs,

Details of the attack by Italian dirigible
balloons on the Turkish camp at Suani-
Ben-Aden were given in special dispatches
received in London, England. The two Ital-
ian dirigibles carried out two reconnois-
sances over the Turkish lines, dropping
bombs as they proceeded,

The airships were under perfect’ control.
They stopped almost still over the coast
town of Zanzour, about fourteen miles west
of the city of Tripoli, and dropped a bomb
into a street. Four persons were killed by
the explosion, and ten others wounded, all
of them noncombatants,

The balloons made a complete tour of the
Turkish camps, but a sustained rifle fire
from the Turkish infantry compelled them
finally to swerve off and disappear. In the
course of their second visit the airships
succeeded in dropping thirty bombs.

Ragland’s ‘Twenty-sixth Dreadnought
Launched,

The British battleship Ajax was launched
at Greenock, Scotland, in the presence of
huge crowds. She is:a sister ship of the
King George V., and is the twenty-sixth
dreadnought in the British navy.

The Ajax has a displacement of 23,000
tons. Her length is 555 feet; beam, 80 feet;
draft, 27% feet. Her armament will con-
sist of ten 13.5-inch guns and twenty-four
four-inch quickfires, Her engines are to be
about 31,000 horse power, and she is ex-
pected to attain a speed of twenty-one
knots.

Austtia’s Second. Dreadnought Takes the
Water.

Thé Tegetthoff, Austria’s second dread-
peaine was launched at Trieste, Austria,
in the presence of Archduke Francis Fer-
dinand, heir to the throne, and other mem-
bers of the imperial family,

The Tegetthoff has a displacement of 20,-
300 tons. She is fitted with turbine engines
which develop 25,000 horse power. She is
525 feet long. Her main armor belt is fif-
teen feet wide and eleven inches in .thick-
ness, tapering to five inches at the ends.
Her armament consists of twelve twelve-
inch guns mounted in four superimposed
turrets, and twenty-four four-inch quick-
firers, with four torpedo tubes.

Plans for Government to Control Water
Power,
Concentration of control over water pow-
ers by large interests in important localities
is increasing so rapidly that Herbert Knox

 

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Smith, United States commissioner of cor-
porations, at Washington, D. C., has re-
ported to President Taft that the govern-
ment should preserve title to the remaining

power sites and develop them to prevent a ~

possible monopolization of public utility
companies. A full report of the commis-
sioner’s investigation of water-power de-
velopment was presented to the president.
Commissioner Smith directs particular at-
tention to the increasing affiliation of water-
power concerns and public-service agencies,
such as street railway and lighting corpora-
tions, and oftentimes banks as well. The
connection between such concerns he re-
gards of serious public significance. The
concentration of control over water powers,
the commissioner declares, is exercised

partly by direct ownership of stock, but .

mainly through interlocking directorates.

New Rules for Ait Travel.

Regulations to prevent collisions in the
air have been drawn up by the Royal Aéro
Clubs of France, in Paris, and include:

Two aircraft meeting must always steer
to the right, and pass 110 yards apart.

One aircraft overtaking another is re-
sponsible for keeping clear. It must not
approach within 110 yards to the right or
330 yards to the left of the overtaken craft,

and must not pass directly under the other

craft.

Electrical News ftom Many Points.

New York City newspapers report that,
by a new system of machine telegraphy,
three hundred words a minute can be sent.

Copenhagen will be electrically lighted
from Trollhattan, Norway, by a cable pass-
ing under the sea,

Venice is to be connected to the Island of
the Lido by a subway electric road, a dis-
tance of two miles.

Electricity was first used in a mine in
1879, when a colliery at Earnock, Scotland,
was lighted with electric lamps.

An electric railway is planned to run be-
tween the City of Mexico, Puebla; and to
the rim of the sleeping volcano of Popo-
catepetl, which is 15,500 feet high,

It is planned to make Pittsburgh smoke-
less by using electrical power developed
from the near-by rivers and streams. Over
100,000, horse power can be obtained in this
way.

Because frosts do the most damage when
the air is calm, a Paris scientist has ad-

vanced the theory that orchards and vine-
yards can be protected by electric fans to
keep the atmosphere moving.

Doctor Charles P. Steinmetz, consulting
engineer of the General Electric Company,
of New York, in addressing a body of en-
gineers at Boston recently, made the state-
ment that electrical development had by no
means reached its limit. He predicted that
in a few years people in New York would
be talking with friends in Tokio and Lon-
don via wireless telephone.

Hero Saves Railroad Train as Result of a -

Dream,
Awakened in a sleep in which he had
dreamed that a near-by trestle on the South-
ern Railway had been washed away, O. T.

Kitchins, a section foreman, although suf-,

fering from illness, arose and went to
South River, six miles from Atlanta, Ga.,
before dawn one morning recently, to dis-
cover that his dream was a reality.

The foreman found that the “stream, —

 

 

 

 

 

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Missouri champion.

swollen by rains, had carried away a trestle
spanning a sixty-five-foot chasm. He knew
that a passenger train en, route from At-
lanta to Columbus, Ga., soon was due to
arrive at the opposite side of the river, but
he had no means of reaching that point to
warn the engineer of the danger, and the
river is three-quarters of a mile wide.

Standing on the bank, the man put his
hands to his lips and repeatedly hallooed
for half an hour. Finally he heard an an-
swering shout, and he called out a warning
to a farmer, who had heard him. The farm-
er flagged the train as it was nearing the
brink of the stream.

Australian Makes New Aviation Record.

An aviation record for the Southern
Hemisphere was put up by Mr. W. E. Hart,
the Australian birdman, with a flight of
forty-seven miles from Penrith, Australia,
to Sydney, in fifty-five minutes. At one
time Hart’s biplane was six thousand feet
up. He encountered several air pockets, in
which his machine suddenly dropped a cou-
ple of fathoms, but his greatest difficulty
was in negotiating the high fences and tele-
graph poles and lines at the agricultural
society's ground in Sydney, where he
alighted. He accomplished this, however,
with admirable nerve and skill.

Each United States Naval, Cadet Costs $18,000.
For each midshipman ‘graduated at the

United States Naval Academy, at Annapolis,

Uncle Sam digs down into his wallet for
$18,164.14. This is the per capita cost of
producing ensigns from the naval officers’
school, according to estimates submitted by
Superintendent Gibbons, of the United
States Naval Academy. It is figured out
that 150 is, the average number of gradu-
ates each year frotn the academy.

Cape Cod Canal for Big Ships.

The State of Massachusetts is anxious to,

cooperate with the Federal government and
the company now building the Cape Cod
Canal in a plan for the enlargement of that
waterway, and a bill has been introduced
in the Massachusetts legislature calling for
the appointment by the governor of a com-
mission to arrange the details.

The Cape Cod Canal is destined to be of
the utmost importance and value to ship-
ping, and it is estimated that by the expen-
diture of an additional $3,000,000 it can be
so deepened and widened by the end of
next year that the largest vessels afloat may
be able to avail themselves of its short
cut.

Missouri Man Champion Roller Skater.

_ What is claimed to be a new world’s two-
mile record for roller skating was made at
Rock Island, Ills., by Lewis Bradburry,
He covered the dis-
tance in five minutes and fifty seconds.

Soldiers to wear Sweaters in the Field,
Coats. will no longer be a part of the

uniform of United States troops in the]

field. The war department, at Washing-
ton, D. C., has decided that a light sweater

will be more practicable and just as com-

fortable.
Telephoning Under Water.

~~ Exhaustive tests have recently been made
by A. W. Sharman, an Englishman, of Bir-

‘Mmingham, England, with instruments in-

   

TIP ‘TOP: WEEKLY.

vented by him for telephoning through
water without wires. The microphone used
in speaking is connected in series with a
battery of four or five dry cells and an im-
pulse coil, the coil being of special construc-
tion and giving very short, induced currents
of high potential, which are communicated
to water by two wires connected to the ter-
minals of the coil and terminating in plates
buried in the sand or submerged in the
water. Two similar plates, connected direct
with a very low resistance telephone re-
ceiver enable the speech to be “picked up”
at distances of a mile and more.

The speech transmitted through the water
has been very distinct, and the system has
shown good possibilities for use as a means
of verbal communication between two ships,
such as a battleship and a submarine. The
effect is very directional, and another ad-
vantage is that with a small tuned buzzer
telegraphic signals can be transmitted
through the earth or water for a distance of
several miles. The primary enétgy re-
quired is extremely small, four watts suffic-
ing to telephone over a distance of two
miles.

Farmers in Middle West Universally
Prospetous. ;

Western farmers are converting much of
their prosperity into attractive homes, mac-
adam roads, asphalt streets, cement walks,
spacious parks, and handsome public build-
ings. Telephones, bathtubs, hot and cold
water, acetylene gas, pianos, gramophones,
books, and magazines are going into the
houses. In the winter you may find half a
thousand Northern farmers basking in cer-
tain of Mexican Gulf resorts. For three
years the West has been the largest mar-
ket for’ the moderate-priced automobiles.
Pennsylvania has issued one automobile 1i-
cense for every 178 of her people; Ohio,
Michigan, Wisconsin, and Minnesota have
outstanding one license to about every 100
inhabitants. But lowa has licensed one
machine for every 31 persons, Nebraska
one for every 53, and South Dakota one

Lfor every 35!

American Swimmets at Olympian Games,

T. S. Battersby, England’s champion
swimmer, and the world’s record holdér for
one mile, throws a damper on the chances
of the swimmers in this country at the
Olympic games in Stockholm, Sweden, next
July. In a letter to a friend in New York,
Battersby gives his views.

He expresses the opinion that it is only
in the 100-meter swim that this country
has the best’ chance to win from the
foreign amphibians, and that in the relay
race, of which the critics here feel some-
what confident, our swimmers can hardly
be better than third. His selections, in
fact, are contrary in most cases to those
of the local enthusiasts.

In the 800-meter relay contest, for in-
stance, it was firmly believed that Germany,
Australia, and the United States would fight
it out. Battersby, however, picks Hungary
for first place, and England for second,
without even mention of the Germans, who
are feared here,

For the roo-meter sprint McGillivray, Fri+
zel, and Hebner are thought by the Eng-
lishman to deserve first consideration, with
about equal chances, and in this he agrees
with our judges, but when it comes to the
400 and 1,500-meter swims, he entirely over-

 

looks Taylor, Hodgson, and himself to

 

 

29

crown Longworth, of Australia. He re-
marks, incidentally, that England will have
in the water a much wéaker team than it
did in 1908, and that it is doubtful if he
himself will be able to take the trip to
Stockholm, owing to business pressure,

Trying to Push the Income Tax Law.

The House of Representatives, at Wash-
ington, D. C., took up the Democratic ex-
cise law, taxing incomes of over $5,000.
The Democrats determined to hurry
through the excise measure which is ex-
pected to make up the $53,000,000 revenues
lost through the: elimination of the sugar
duties.

Eating Horse Meat in France.

If the price of beef continues to advance
the people of this country may come to cul-
tivate a taste for horse meat, as they do in
France. Taking that country as a whole,

.beef forms 35 per cent of the meats eaten,

mutton 12, and horse II.

3ut the proportion varies greatly in dif-
ferent cities; in Nancy, horse beef forms
23 per cent of the meat sold, in Brest 24
per cent, and in Bourges 23.

The number of horses killed for market
in Paris increased from 16,000 in 1895 to
48,7905 in 1909. The yeat 1907 marked the
height of the horse’s popularity in Paris;
in that year there were 700 horse-flesh
stalls. This number has fallen to 4o1.

Part of this reduction is due not so much
to a change of taste as to lack of supply;
the motor car is driving the horse out of
Paris.

Champion Office Holder an Ohioan.

Frank A. Handy, aged ninety-four, has
held public office one hundred and ‘nine
years. He lives in Bellefontaine, Miami
County, Ohio, and has given up the office
of justice of the peace, and now the only
offices he holds are those of member of the
Soldiers’ Relief Commission and notary
public. ¥

Mr. Hardy accomplished his record by
holding more than one office at a time, and
once he held four at the same time. He has
held the following offices:

Justice of peace, 25 years; township clerk,
5 years; city clerk, Piqua, 10 years; water-
works clerk, 7 years; board of education
clerk, 20 years; ward assessor, 14 years;
board of equalization, 24 years; member
tax equalization board, 2 years; appraiser
of real estate, 2 years; total, 109. .

He is further distinguished as having
served fifty-six years as a volunteer fire-
man. In the Mexican War he served under
Captain Samuel B. Curtis, and in the Civil
War he was a captain. He is the oldest
member of the Loyal Legion of Ohio,

Mr. Hardy is still in good health. He is
proudest of his record as justice of the
peace. He says: “During my twenty-five
years of service only four cases I decided
were taken to higher courts, and only one
of these reversed.”

Public Service Commission Wants Slower

tains.

Railroad accidents have been so frequent
of late that the Public Service Commission,
at Albany, N. Y., issued a statement giving
its conclusions on the subject. The state-
ment says:

“It would be far better if. Americans
would be satisfied to travel slower, espe-
cially in the winter time. It would increase

.M

  
 

30

safety. Investigation may indicate the ne-
cessity of compelling the reduction of very
fast train speed in cold weather.”

Want Lincoln Highway as a Memorial,

It is anounced that the American Auto-
mobile Association has submitted figures to
a committee of the House of Representa-
tives, at Washington, D. C., to prove that
the appropriation of $2,000,000 for a Lin-
coln memorial would be ample to cover the
cost of construction of the suggested “me-
morial highway” from Washington to Get-
tysburg.

However that may be, the highway idea
does not harmonize with the prevailing con-
ception of what a memorial to a great
American ought to be.

Canadian Lighthouse Heroine Saves Vessels.

For ten days after her husband had been
washed overboard and drowned in the
midst of a storm that threatened the demo-
lition of the structure, Mrs. Peter Borque,
wife of the lighthouse tender on Bird Rock
Island of the Magdalene group, near Hali-
fax, Nova Scotia, kept the beacon going
and undoubtedly saved several vessels from
piling up on the rocks. Both she and her
baby suffered frightfully from exposure
and hunger.

Attention was attracted to Bird Rock
Island by signals of distress. A boat’s crew,
from the government steamer Seal, found
Mrs. Borque and her baby so weak they
had to be carried on board the rescue
steamer.

“For a time I thought I would go mad,”
said the woman, “but I knew I had to do
my duty. My baby suffered terribly from
the cold, but I held it as tight as I could.
It was a terrible task td crawl with her into

_ the light chamber, to keep the lights
trimmed, filled, and burning. There was
food, but I could not cook it. And the

baby cried constantly. Many times I heard
the whistles: of, vessels in the fog, but they
veered away when they heard the bell ring-
ing and saw the light. Finally the Seal
came.”

Bird ‘Rock lighthouse is the most storm-
swept area of the Nova Scotia coast, and
its only visitors are the crews of the gov-
ernment vessels who go there with ‘sup-
plies.

The Oldest of Republics.

“The history of China,” says the Ob-
server, of Utica, N. Y., “is something unique
in this world, for by regular and irrefuta-
ble records it goes far back of the begin-
nings of other countries now existing, and
tells us of a republic that was organized
and operative before the dawn of the Chris-
tian era, There was a revolution in China
that is reckoned by Christian chronologists
as having occurred in the year 1776 B. C.,,
and this was. the overthrow of one of the
republics that has ecvernes China in the
past.”

General Grant and the Third Term,

“We must bear in mind,” says the Syra-
cuse Herald, “that the validity of the plea

that the objection to three terms relates
only to successive terms has already been
put to the test of popular judgment. In
1880 General Grant, after four years’ re-
tirement following his secorid presidential
term, was a candidate for a third term. He
was the preéminent military hero of the

 

 

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

Civil War, and yet the popular feeling ad-
verse to any violation of the precedent. es-
tablished by Washington, and confirmed by
Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, and Jackson,
was sufficient to turn the balance against
him in the Republican national convention
of that year. Even Grant’s tremendous hold
on public admiration and gratitude was not
sufficient to disestablish ‘the wise custom
which limits the president to two terms’
and which ‘regards the substance and not
the form,’”

Cannot Stop Tipping.

Assemblyman Seely, of Steuben County,
New York, introduced a measure in the
Legislature, at Albany, which prohibits tip-
ping only in hotels, restaurants, and Pull-
man cars. Under its terms, a person who
gives tips of a person who receives them
will be fined $100 for each day the practice
is employed.

“The easure,’ > declares the Watertown
Standard, “may be ‘aimed to stop,’ but it
won't work, It is scarcely within the power
of the Legislature to prevent a man making
a gift or another receiving it. And if it
were, the law wouldn’t be observed to a
great extent. The real beneficiaries of tips
are the hotels and the Pullman company.
They cut waiters’ and porters’ wages on the
basis of the average gratuities. Tipping is
an evil, and demoralizing, but so many re-
gard the habit of chewing tobacco. Legis-
lation cannot correct the tipping evil.”

A Billion Passengets in New York,

In. New York City’s car lines, during
1901, there rode about 881,000,000 persons ;
in 191r the -number was approximately
1,604,000,000. This is almost double that
rode ten years ago.

A Ball Playet’s Tricks With a Sweater.

A story originating in Pittsburgh says:
Elmer Steele’s temper is what sent him
from the big league to the minors, Were
it not for his sudden flashes of rage he
might still be wearing a Pirate uniform.
He threw his sweater in Captain Clarke’s
face.

There were other cases of conflict be-
tween Pirate chief and rank and file last
summef, but this was the only one to reach
the light of day.

Steele’s trick with the sweater was exe-
cuted in St. Louis, following a reprimand
by his commander. Wires flashed to Pitts-
burgh that night a six-word message read-
ing, “Get rid of Steele at once.”

Waivers were asked and_ Brooklyn
claimed the pitcher.

The Power of the Bankers Greater Than That
of the Army and Navy.

“Bankers are supplanting in real power
the admirals and the generals,’ said Mrs.
Edwin D. Mead, of Boston, in a lecture in
Brooklyn on “The Growth of International-
ism,

It was shown that commerce and the in-
terrelations of nations brought about
through trade is influencing folks to more
lenient, humane, and spiritual methods than
those of warfare, which interrupts business
and paralyze trade.

In illustration, Mrs. Mead traced the
destructive effect upon the business world
were Germany to attack Great Britain and
wreck the Bank of England.

“The safety of investments to-day is not
increased by armaments,” said she, “for the

 

carrying trade of Norway, which has no
great navy, is, per capita, nearly three times
the carrying trade of Great Britain. Mor-
gan and Rothschild find Belgium’s 3 per
cent’s quoted at 96 and Germany’s at only
82. Russia’s 31% per cent’s are quoted at
81 and Norway’s at 102.”

Man Captures Mouse That Sings Like a
Raincrow.

A. L. Fleigle, of East Alton, Mo., bought
a lot of mouse traps to recapture a mouse
which he said uttered musical notes.

For three months Fleigle heard musical
sounds in his house at night, and he was
mystified. It was like the sound of a
raincrow, but he knew there was no bird
in the house. Fleigle,; caught three mice,
and among them he noticed one which was
uttering notes of music like those he had
been hearing.

Comely Young Woman Tries to, Enlist in
Army.

A comely young woman, who admitted
her name to be Gladys Glendenning, of
Ispheming, Mich., dressed in male attire,
called at the United States army recruiting
station, at Cheyenne, Wyo., gave her name
as Charles Johnstone, and declared she

wanted to enlist in the army.

Her hair had been shingled and she wore
a new suit of clothes. The recruiting ser-
geant filled out the necessary blanks for her
enlistment and then told her to step into
an adjoining room for a physical examina-
tion. She entered the room, where she was
told to remove her ‘clothing.

She hesitated, stammered, and blushed,
then began to cry. She admitted that she
was a girl. She said that her sweetheart
was an artilleryman stationed at Presidio,
Col, She declared she wanted to enlist and
be assigned to his company.

She was advised to seek an appointment
as a nurse in the hospital corps and she at
once left for San Francisco with that. in-
tention.

A Socialist Talks About “Trust Busters.”

John W. Slayton, of Pennsylvania, a prom-
inent labor leader, the first Socialist mem-
ber of a city council in that State, and a
candidate for governor at the last election,
declared, in an address in Lynn, Mass., that
the spirit of the times is combination, and
that people are driven to unite with those
of their own occupation.

“For twenty years,” he said, “there has
been a howling chorus demanding that the
power of monopoly to control prices be
interfered with by law. The politicians
who, in their party platforms, have prom-
ised to interfere with these monopolies,
have come to be called ‘trust busters.’

“The Socialists are in favor of concen-
tration of industry and insist that it is a
labor-saving device of incalculable value,
and that every objectionable feature may be
removed by simply changing the trusts from
private ownership for plunder to public
ownership for service.”

Vassat’s President Declares That College Girls
Make Good Wives.

President. James M. Taylor, of Vassar
College, at Poughkeepsie, says that the
college girl marries as early and has as
many children as any other girl of the same
social set.
class which marries early and ‘without any
thought of the future, because it has noth-

ing to lose, and because it is just as easy,

 

She does not come from the,

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‘ated toward the upkeep of the roads. These

 

‘ing unions of farm workmen, and it may]
come to pass that the farmers will have to}:

“ants on both sides in the troubles in China,
in numerous instances, have turned to mis-

} said Bishop James W. .Bashford,

| attitude of the Chinese toward the mission-
| aries.

 

 

to support two persons on nothing as it is
to support one. While it should be no con-
cern of the woman’s college whether or not
its graduates marry and have children, it
is pleasing to be able to refute the charge
that the college woman fails as a wife and
mother.

The Germans Make Roadside Trees Pay.

The auction sales of native fruit grown
on the trees bordering the country roads in
the township of Linden, adjoining the city
of Hanover, Germany, yielded last autumn
20,612 marks ($4,906).

‘Along certain stretches of the roads the
yield amounted to 1,500 marks’ ($357). per
kilometer, or at the rate of $595 per mile.

The province of Hanover has some 7,000
miles of country highways bordered with
fruit trees, the profit of which is appropri-

roads, which are commonplace to the na-
tive resident, are the delight of the Ameri-
can tourist, who often wonders why road-
sides in the United States are not thus
planted in fruit.

This application of the beautiful, prac-
tical, and economic possibilities embraced
in the control of such public property as
roads is a fine illustration of the commu-
nity thrift of the German.

During the three or four weeks’ period
of ripening, sharp-eyed old watchmen on
bicycles patrol the roads, being particularly
active on Sundays, when people are out in
large numbers. ,

It is forbidden to pick-up fruit from the
ground, and to knock it from the trees is
subject to a fine of 100 marks ($23.80) or
more for each offense.

Laws and regulations for the general
good, however, excite such respect on the
part of the German that cases of theft of
fruit from the highway fruit trees rarely
occur.

Farm Hands May Organize a Union.
The labor unions are getting busy form-

deal with organized labor.

It is claimed that the farm workmen
ought te have a uniform working day and
not be compell ed to do chores two hours
in the evening after a hard day’s work.
There does not seem to be as much interest
in the wages as in conditions. It is a fact
that in some parts of the West good men
are getting $40 and $50 per month and
board.

It will be difficult to make a union of un-
skilled workmen, widely separated as they
ate, effective in bringing about better con-

itions. Farmers are bitterly opposed to
the idea and workmen are not enthusiastic
Over it.

The Chinese Rely on Missionaries.
“The frequency with which the contest-

sionaries for advice and direction, is one
of the surprises of the presént movement,”
of the
a letter
China, to the
dealing with the

Methodist Episcopal church, in
Written from Foo Chow,
' Methodist mission board,

“indeed, in most cases,” continued the

 

ee: ‘the missionaries have been the ar-

 

TIP: TOP’ WEEKLY.

bitrators between the contending parties,
and both parties have accepted their final
judgment. The fact that so great a revolu-
tion has started, with so little bloodshed,
is due far more to Christian missionaries
than the world at large or even the Chinese,
as a whole, have yet realized. In general,
the missionaries have occupied the safe and
proper position of spiritual advisers to both
sides in the crisis—a position which is con-
ferring priceless benefits upon countless
Chinese in many cities and communities.”

Woman’s Influence Needed in the Goverhaanl,

Woman as a needed influence in govern-
ment was lauded by Governor Chase S. Os-
borne, of Michigan, at the annual banquet
of the Micnigan Society in Chicago.

Governor Osborne told how he finally
decided in favor of woman’s suffrage.

“I was in Lansing last winter and was
visited by delegations seeking to prevent
equal suffrage. I looked them over and
eee to cast my lot with the other
side

“You can not extend too much influence
in public life to women. Social conditions
always ware best remedied by the home
women.’

Opera Chorus Girls’ Demands For Raiftoad
Fares are Granted.

The threatened strike of chorus girls of
the Chicago Grand Opera Company ter-
minated when a delegation of indignant so-
pranos, mezzo-sopranos, and altos visited
Charles G. Dawes, vice president of the
company, and obtained assurance that fares
from Philadelphia to Chicago at the close
of the sedson would be paid to the com-
pany.

The girls also complained that the cashier
had been deducting $1°a week from each
girl’s pay envelope to pay for their travel-
ing expenses on the Philadelphia-Chicago
trip at the opening of the season.

New York Clergymen Will War on High

Prices.

War on high prices for vegetables for the
poor Of New York, fashioned after the
campaign of Mayor Shank? of Indianapolis,
was begun in New York City with the open-
ing by a committee of clergymen and others
of the first of a series of sales places where
products of the soil will be transferred
from producer to consumer without a mid-
dleman’s intervention. Customers. who
flocked to the big room in which quantities
of vegetables were stacked, quickly emptied
it of its contents,

To Reduce Fire Insurance Expenses,

In his annual report to the New York
Legislature, State Superintendent of Insur-
ance Hotchkiss will recommend that some
means be devised to reduce the expenses
and commissions of companies doing fire,
casualty, liability, and similar lines of insur-
ance, This recommendation was made by
Governor Dix in his annual message. The
State now restricts the expenses and ‘com-
missions of life insurance companies.

Navy Pay Clerk a Desertter.

Paymaster’s’ Clerk T. N. Carter, of
Brooklyn, was officially declared a deserter
by the navy department, and a warrant was
issued for his arrest, Commander Armi-
sted Ruit, commanding the cruiser Balti-
more, teported that Carter had been missing

 

31

since January, and that a considerable sum
of money belonging to the enlisted men of
the ship, which had been intrusted to his
care, also was missing. Carter was clerk to
Passed Assistant Paymaster D. G. McRit-
chie,

Typhoid is Gaining in the United States. *

The total number of deaths from typhoid
fever returned from the census bureawu’s
death registration area for the year, 1910
was 12,673, equivalent to a death rate of
23.5 per 100,000 on the estimated midyear
population, or an increase of 1,951 over
19090, when the death rate was only 21.2 per
100,000.

Two Telephone Systems Not Wanted in Any
Town.

“The telephone subscriber in cities where
two telephone companies are operating,”
declares the Sentinel, of Rome, N. Y,,
“has awakened to the fact that upon him
falls heaviest the burden of two telephone
systems in his town or city.

“If he pays for only one service his serv-
ice is more or less restricted, and if he
gets full service, he pays double for it,

“The time was when'the subscriber hon-
estly felt that competition in telephones was
the real solution of all his difficulties, but
more recently has come to the realization
of the fact that the real solution. was in an
intelligently and honestly conducted unified
setvice regulated by the State through the
medium of its Public Service Commission.

“There is no more reason why there
should be two telephone systems than why
there should be two post offices, provided
the single telephone system is regulated so
good service is secured at reasonable rates.”

Hotel Gnest Pays et Be by Working as

Mrs. Ruby a ia put up at an ex-
pensive hotel in Chicago to “see how it feels
to play rich,’ was engaged with the man-
agement to ‘work out” her bill as a parlor
maid.

James J. Hill Invents a Track-level
Machine.

It is not always the employee who per-
fects. the devices which greatly improve
methods: and service. James J. Hill, head
of the Great Northern Railway, has
patented a track-level machine, the first of
the kind to be used anywhere. It will de-
tect imperfect rails and tell every uneven-
ness in the track much better than the hand
level generally 1 in use, and it does its work
by merely running along the track. Itis a
comparatively simple device.

A Woman Judge in Ohio,

A Portia came to judgment in the Fed-
eral building, in Covington, Ky., when Mrs,
Mabel Van Dyke Bell asumed her duties of
Federal commissioner, to which she had
been appointed,

Mrs. Bell is said to be the only woman to
hold the position of judge in preliminary
hearings in a United States court.

Her first case was that of a man charged
with sending libelous matter through the -
mails, and she bound him over to the grand
jury and fixed his bond at $500. The room

was crowded with attorneys assembled to . .”

witness the novel spectacle of a woman on
the bench.

erg

 

 
Pray]

BALL! BALL!

alin cris ceca ms

Tip Top Championship Contest of 1912

Open to amateur baseball nines anywhere in the United
States. New uniforms for each of the two winning
teams. BEGIN NOW. Contest Closes October 15th.

PLAY]

Eleventh Annual

 

 

Baseball Tournament

 

 

 

 

 

- FIRST PRIZE:—The team which, at the end of the season, has the highest
average—that is, plays the greatest number of games and scores the largest number
of runs, will be declared the TIP TOP CHAMPIONSHIP TEAM OF 1912, and will
receive a handsome silk pennant bearing words to that effect. In addition to this,
the champion team will receive an equipment of nine high-grade uniforms—cap,
shirt, belt, trousers and stockings for each member.

SECOND PRIZE:—The team showing the next highest average, will be declared
the winner of the second place, and the members will receive each a uniform equip-
ment exactly like that given to each member of the champion team.

In the event of a tie between two teams, tile batting and fielding average of the teams will be considered. The captains of com-
peting teams are therefore advised to preserve the detailed score of each game, but not to send it to this office until requested to do so.

TEN COUPONS REQUIRED FOR THE RECORD OF EACH GAME

In order that TIP TOP may have a complete and proper record of each game played by each
team entering this contest, ten coupons must be sent in for each game. ‘These consist of one
coupon from each of the nine players, and one manager’s coupon. The last coupon must be mailed
on or before October 15th, when the contest closes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

9 ; 9
MANAGER’S COUPON PLAYER’S COUPON
For each game played during the season, the ‘manager desiring to In fairness to all the clubs that enter this contest, and that there

enter the Tip Top Contest, is required to fill outa Manager’s Coupon, | ™@Y be no doubt as to whom me ie should go, Tip Top requires a
like that below, fill it in, signit, and obtain the endorsement of his | COupon from each member of the nine as well as the manager's
postmaster or a reputable news dealer, as provided in the coupon, | COUPOD. Below is the coupon which each player should cut out,
and mail it to this office. fill in, sign and give to the manager of the_nine that he may send it

along with the manager’s coupon.

TIP TOP BASEBALL TOURNAMENT OF 1912
TIP TOP BASEBALL TOURNAMENT OF 1912

Meuse of My ‘Team .-.--.--.-----.-2a---002-nna--nnanotaninnanchbannnannannee "This is to certify that I played in the game between the
Name of Opposing Team... -_.----.-------------2-----eeensencenieceeeeente PO i a aE ca cate a gi eae
Winmer -...-. ..---------- ---------2-- nena senna anne een ee ieee nena nenee Wid Tee Weak aot eae a ar a ie eee
MOMMEPNIRIE OS fl 1, Sos, as uke Sue a aU rae ht YA vite AM alen buen wright Wie POuOr Waseo coos eed Sok Cee a ee aes See
pate oF Game ji.) 5 ca ees rend mk nees dbiiicdn maaan tne Winner -....---.------ = Sada raeltiy hain Sukie ts snk wean - & bei eee
PN INO sc i ds ud ha akn gy wed SI Te ee al a Rete ea Pinal SCOR isn 2 oho ak afew edna mgs nne emaein tne“ nko |
Dike OF Gari i oe os ae es se ven das eclipse annem
arate 6 LUNE oi nok ti hn saneniguadaeiun dntokwhth kha cclenanuacssenuee

Where Playeds ioc. co8.5 ots A ee
UMC ee hs aN Ss Ol ae ad ee se Lain ucuth aleuieui j

Plaver’é Sigtmture 2 ossnsaiel set skeet las seus pscadedesle soda de ae
Endorsement of Postmaster \ /
Pre aNe SIMRO SLs suds att Lea ae bos seem eO diva meee Ana cambios - scadipe Per bee ae eden oie mea aoe PCS Cae cow ic eae ng eats eee

SSS SSS eS OSS]. ELaLLLESS_ SSSSSS!_—_“_oEaaB9B9]E_|_—_—_—_S]]_LSESSS|

\

 

 

 

 

;

 

 

 
 

 

 

 
ALL, OF THE BACK NUMBERS OF

TIP TOP WEEKLY

THAT CAN NOW

BE SUPPLIED

 

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.
5D 2_Dic k Merr iwe ll, Half-back.
93—Dick Merriwell’s Resentment.
5: 54—Dick Merriwell Repaid.
555—Dick Merriwell’s
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—Frank Merriwell’s Trailing.
564—F rank Merriwell’s Talisman,
565—F rank Merriwell’s Horse.
566—Frank Merriwell’s Intrusion.
567—Frank Merriwell’s Bluff...
568—Dick Merriwell’s Regret.
569- —Dick Merriwell’s Silent Work.
570—Dick Merriwell’s Arm.
571—Dick Merriwell’s Skill.
572—Dick Merriwell’s Magnetism.
573—Dick Merriwell’s System.
O74 —Dick Merriwell’s Salvation.
575—-Dick Merriwell’s Twirling.
576—Dick Merriwell’s Party
577—Dick Merriwell’s Hackers:
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 Disadvan-
tage.
584—Dick Merriwell Beset.
586—Dick Merriwell’s Distrust.
587—Dick Merriwell, Lion Tamer.
5S8—Dick Merriwell’s Camp-site.
589—Dick Merriwell’s Debt.
590—Dick Merriwell’s Camp Mates.
§91—Dick Merriwell’s Draw.
592—Dick Merriwell’s Disapproval.
593—Dick Merriwell’s Mastery.
594—Dick Merriwell’s Warm Work.
§95—Dick Merriwell’s
Squeeze.”
596—-Dick Merriwell’s Vanishing.
597—Dick Merriwell Adrift.
598—Dick Merriwell’s Influence.
599—F rank Merriwell’s Worst Boy.
600—Frank Merriwell’s Annoyance.
601—F rank Merriwell’s Restraint.
602—Dick Merriwell Held Back.
603—Dick Merriwell in the Line.
604—Dick Merriwell’s Drop Kick.
605—F rank Merriwell’s Air Voyage.
606—Frank Merriwell’s Auto Chase.
607—Frank Merriwell’s Captive.
608—Dick Merriwell’s Value.
609—Dick Merriwell Doped.
610—Dick Merriwell’s Belief.
61 amet. pt Merriwell in the Mar-
cet,
612—F rank Merriwell’s Fight for
Fortune.
613—Frank Merriwell on Top.
614—Dick Merriwell’s Trip West.
615—Dick Merriwell’s Predicament.
616—Dick Merriwell in Mystery
Valley
617—Frank Merriwell’s Proposition.
618—Frank Merriwell Perplexed.
619—FIrank Merriwell’s Suspicion.
620—Dick Merriwell’s Gallantry.
321—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—Frank Merriwell’s Doubts.

Staying

“Double ¢

627—F rank Merriwell’s ‘Phenom.’
628—Dick Merriwell’s Stand.
629—Dick Merriwell’s Circle.
630—Dick Merriwell’s Reach,
631—Dick Me srriwe ll’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—T rank Merriwell’s Young
Clippers.
rank Merriwell’s
3reakers.
640—Dick Merriwell’s Shoulder.
641—Dick Merriwell’s Desperate
Work.
642—Dick Merriwell’s Example.
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.

639-1 Record

649—F rank Merriwell in the Saddle. 725—

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—F rank Merriwell’s Red Visitor.
657—F rank Merriwell’s Rope.
658—F rank Merriwell’s Lesson.
659—F rank 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—F rank Merriwell's Diplomacy.
668—Frank Merriwell’s Encourage-
ment.

Frank Merriwell’s Great Work.
Cros 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.
i176—Trank Merriwell’s Ranch Boss,
677—Dick Merriwell’s Equal.
678—Dick Merriwell’s Development.
679—Dick Merriwell’s Eye.
680—Frank Merriwell’s Zest.
681—Frank Merriwell’s Patience.
682—F rank Merriwell’s Pupil.
683—F rank Merriwell’s Fighters.
684—Dick Merriwell at the ‘Meet.”
385—Dick Merriwell’s Protest.
686—Dick Merriwell in the
thon.
687—Dick Merriwell’s Colors.
688—Dick Merriwell, Driver.
689—Dick Merriwell on the Deep.
690—Dick Merriwell in the North
Woods.
691—Dick Merriwell’s Dandies.
692—Dick Merriwell’s Skyscooter.
693—Dick Merriwell in the Elk
Mountains.
694—Dick Merriwell in Utah.
695—Dick Merriwell’s Bluff.
696—Dick Merriwell in the Saddle.
697—Dick Merriwell’s Raneh
Friends.
rank Merriwell
Lake.
699—F rank Merriwell’s Hold-bs Be
70O0—F rank Merriwell’s Lively Lads
701—F rank Merriwell as Instructor.
702—Dick Merriwell’s Cayuse.
708—Diek Merriwell’s Quirt.
704—Dick Merriwell’s Freshman
Friend.
705—Dick Merriw ell’s Best Form.

Mara-

698—F rx at Phantom

(74— Frank Merriwell’s Daring Deed
775—Frank Merriwell’s Succor,
7 76- —Frank Merriwell’s Wit.
777—Frank Merriwell’s Loyalty.
778—Frank Merriwell’s Bold Play.
779—F rank Merriwell’s Insight.
780—Frank Merriwell’s Guile.
Merriwell’s Standard. 781—F rank Merriwell’s Campaign.
Merriwell’s Sympathy. 782—Frank Merriwell in the Na:
Merriwell in Lumber tional Forest.

Land. 783—Frank Merriwell’s Tenacity.
—Frank Merriwell’s Fairness. 784—Dick Merriwell’s Self-sacrifice.
-Frank Merriwell’s Pledge. 785—Dick Merriwell’s Close Shave.

_F rank Merriwell, the Man of 786—Dick Merriwell’s Perception.
Grit. 787—Dick Merriwell’s Mysterious
719—F rank Disappearance.
Blow. 788—Dick Merriwell’s
20—Frank Merriwell’s Quest. Work.
1—I*rank Merriwell’s Ingots. 789—Dick Merriwell’s Proof.
2—F rank Merriwell’s Assistance. 790—Dick Merriwell’s Brain Work.
38—Frank Merriwell at the 791—Dick Merriwell’s Queer Case.
Throttle. 792—Dick Merriwell, Navigator.
724—F rank Merriwell, 7938—Dick Merriwell’s Good Fellow-
Ready. ship.
-Frank Merriwell 794—Dick Merriwell’s Fun,
» Land. a 5 795—Dick Merriwell’s Commence:
var Merriwell’s ment.
‘hance. i x
—Frank, Merriwell’s Black 796 tee
797—-Dick Merriwell, Mediator.
798—Dick Merriwell’s Decision.
Great

Merriwell’s Prank.
Merriwell’s Gambol.
Merriwell’s Gun.
Merriwell at His Best.
Merriwell’s Master Mind.
Merriwell’s Dander.
Merriwell’s Hope.

706—Dick
707—Dick
TO8—Dick
7O9—Dick
10—Dick
11—Dick
12—Dick
18—Dick
14—Dick
15—Diec :
1

17
18
Merriwell’s Return
Detective

»
9
oe

U
72
1
ro
i

the Always

in Diamond
°

Desperate

Ter- at Montauk
728—F'r mn “Merriwell Again on the {
Slab.
729—Frank Merriwell’s Hard
nares Merriwell’s Six-in-hand
81—Frank Merriwell’s Duplicate.
rank Merriwell on Rattle-
snake Ranch. _ 801—Dick Merriwell in the Copper
33—Frank Merriwell’s Sure Hand. Country.
34—Frank Merriwell’s Treasure §02—Dick Merr iwell Strapped.
os Map. { 8083—Dick Merriwell’s Coolness.
735—Frank Merriwell, of 804—Dick Merriwell’s Reliance,
res _ the Rope. 805—Dick Merriwell's College
786—Dick Merriwell, of 806—Dick Merriwell’s
: — Varsity. i Pitcher.
37—Dick erriwell’s Control. 807—Dick Me ‘i > ries
38—Dick Merriwell’s Back Stop. Sos piGnik Memtoull's Bea
39—Dick Merriwell’s Masked En-g99--pPrank Merriwell’s  Interfer-
ay ence.

—Dick Merriwell’s Motor Car, fs :
—Dick Merriwell’s Hot Pursuit. ee - a I's
a oe a shh fe a peli Lake e144 rrank Merriwell’s Appraisal.

; ms 812—Frank Merriwell’s Forgiveness
—Dick Merriwell's Silence. 813—Frank Merriwell’s Lads
»—Dick Merriwell’s Dog. 814 Prank Merriwell’s
46—Dick ee riwell’s Subterfuge. Aviatoss.

7 y a » a) or «

a tee ae a Cte 815—Frank Merriwell’s Hot-head.

9—Dick Merriwell’s “Wing.” 816—Dick Merriwell, Diplomat.

50—Dick Merriwell’s Sky Chase. 817—Dick Merriwell in Panama.
—Dick Merriwell’s Pick- ups. 818—Dick Merriwell’s Perseverance.
-Dic k Merriwell on the Rock- Bee ce aeeteci!s teen

ng R. pS MB ey iP REN Mat wigan thet ba

753—Dick Merriwell’s Penetration. Sarat eck acon von ae
54—Dick Merriwell’s Intuition. 893 Dick Metriwall’s Untolnaa.
55—Dick Merriwell’s Vantage, 894] Nick 4 Morriwéll Universal
56—Dick Merriwell’s Advice. o= K 4 vit, de ‘
7—Dick Merriwell’s Rescue.

Coach,
58—Dick Merriwell, American. 825—Dick Merriwell’s Snare.
59—Dick Merriwell’s Understand- 826—Dick Merriwell’s Star Pupil.
ing. 827—Dick Merriwell’s Astuteness.
760—Dick Merriwell, Tutor. 828—Dick Merriwell’s. Responst-
761—Dick Merriwell’s Quandary. :

bility.
762—Dick Merriwell on the Boards, 829—Dick Merriwell’s Plan.
763—Dick Merriwell, Peacemaker.
832—Dick Merriwell’s Champions.
hension. 833—Dick Merriwell’s Marksmen.
766—F1
* Acrobat. 83:
767—F rank Merriwell’s Tact. §86—Dick Merriwell’s Foreign Foe.
770—I'rank Merriwell’s Young 8 —Dick Merriwell’s Battle for the
Canadian. Blue.
839—
840—Dick Merriwell’s Device.
—Frank -Merriwell’s
tion.*

Game 799—Dick Merriwell on the
Lakes.

800—Dick Merriwell
ping.

Caught Nap-

732—F1

Prince
Mate.
Young

Captain
, Young
2—
4

Young

4
4
4

43
4
a
47
4

4

51
52—

880—Dick Merriwell’s Warning.
764—Frank Merriwell’s Sway. 831—Dick Merriwell’s Counsel.
765—Frank Merriwell’s Compre-
rank = Merriwell’s Young 834—Dick Merriwell’s Enthusiasm.
5—Dick Merriwell’s Solution.
768—Frank Merriwell’s Unknown.  837—Dick Merriwell and the Car-
769—F rank Merriwell’s Acuteness. lisle Warriors.
858—
771—F rank Merriwell’s Coward. —Dick Merriwell’s Evidence,
2—F rank Merriwell’s Perplexity.
3 Interven- 841—Dick Merriwell’s Princeton Op-
ponents.

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