NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY rT a Frank Merriwell Juntor’s ~ Hobo Twirler ~ STREET & SMITH ~ PUBLISHERS ~NEW YORK An Ideal Publication For The American Youth Issued Weekly, Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York Post Office according to an act of Congress, March 3,1819. Published by STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Ave., New York, Copyright, 1913, éy STREET & SMITH. O. G. Smith and G. C. Smith, Proprietors. Terms to NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY Mail Subscribers. ‘ (Postage Free.) Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5c. Each. B NEOMULM is Stas cp sonecene eooee BOC, OME YAY eese cesses ceeve a Up ades $2.50 4 MONEtHS...0+0. ceeee epiecviass 85c. 2 COpieS ONO Year «...seeceereeee 4.00 6 months. ...-- -$1.25 1 copy two years..... we dekbeese ee LOD eee eee woeescees ' tered letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At your own risk ifsent How to Send Money—By post-office or express money order, regis- by currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter. Receipts—Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged by proper change of number on your label. If not correct you have not been properly credited, and should let us know at once. No. 48. NEW YORK, June 28, 1913. Price Five Cents. Frank Merriwell, Jr.s, Hobo Twirler; Or, THE SPECIAL ‘TO BLYFIELD. By BURT L. CHAPTER I. QUELLING A MUTINY. _ Owen Clancy, seated comfortably on the veranda of the Borden House,. watched a crowd of Merriwell’s Ath- letes come across the main street and push slowly up to the veranda steps. There was something wrong with that crowd, and Clancy could see it at half a glance. _ Arlo Pennyworth, the cowboy athlete and catcher for the nine, and Dart Keenan, the crack amateur sprinter, who had recently joined the team, headed the straggling ittle procession. Back of them came John Glory and Neil Rodno, both outfielders ; Billy Dill, shortstop; Hop Wah, the clever Chinese second baseman, and Villum Kess, the Dutch boy, who had long been considered a joke, but had recently forced his teammates to =e him _ seriously. In their gray uniforms, the lads were dpniittte in from the Blyfield Academy diamond, where they had been at practice. Many of them had bats over their shoulders ind gloves in their hands or under their arms. Glory was thoughtfully juggling with a ball, and the face of very one in the little crowd was more or less perplexed / getting to his feet and stepping to te veranda rail. re sent you a the field for ie aie didn’t or looked at Keenan significantly. The latter tepped « a little farther forward... Although he was plainly irn and determined. “Where’s Chip, Owen?” he asked. “He’s gone over to Horton's to have a talk about our STANDISH. “We've just heard that there’s another game in prospect with Lattimer’s Pirates.’ Keenan’s face hardened. “If that’s so,” he finished, with emphasis, “we'll not stand TOD Ths A quick flush ran into Clancy’s freckled face. “You won’t stand for it, eh?” he returned sharply. “li Rufus Horton’ and Chip Merriwell, our financial backer and the captain of our team, see fit to schedule another game with the Pirates, you'll lie down and refuse to play! Is that what you mean?” This flat statement of the situation added still further to the discomfort and embarrassment of the athletes. Villum Kess mopped his face moodily with a red cotton handkerchief, Hop Wah kept his head bent and his eyes down, and Rodno and Dill and Glory looked as though they wished they were a thousand miles away. Never- theless, it was evident that they had deliberated their ac- tions and were obstinately determined to back up their protest. “What we mean is, Clan,” continued Keenan, “that we’re amateur athletes, and have too high a regard for honest sport to mix up any further with a bunch of crooks like the Pirates. If we’re told to play the Pirates again, we’ll not go into the field.” “Then this is an out-and-out mutiny, is it?” flashed Clancy. “Hang it, old man,” grumbled Keenan, “don’t bear down on us so hard. All we want is to do what’s;right.” “All you want,” persisted the red-headed chap, “is. to make things-as hard for Rufus and Chip as you can. They won't try to have you do anything that’s not right and proper. I guess you know that as well as I do. But don’t come to me with your kicks, for I’ve got’ troubles — enough of my own. Mosey right over to Horton’s house ~ and make your protest to the backer and the captain. If . 2 NEW PLP you're bound to put yourselves on record, that’s the way to do it.” The athletes exchanged glances. No word was spoken, but nods of approval ran through the group. Slowly the crowd started off up the ‘street, Pennyworth and Keenan leading, Clancy watched them out of sight, long whistle. “T don’t know as I blame them a whole lot,’ he mut- tered, “but I'll just tip off Rufus and Chip over the phone.” He hurried into the hotel and called up Horton. The latter received news of the mutiny with a light laugh, and did not appear to take it very seriously. When the muti- neers arrived at the house, however, both Rufus Horton and Chip Merriwell were out on the lawn to meet them. “What's to pay, fellows?” inquired Merry pleasantly. then gave vent to a “Clancy just telephoned that you were on the way, and . that you were feeling a little bit sore about something. That’s not the right spirit for this crowd, and the quicker we can straighten out the trouble the better.” “What we want to know is this, Chip,” said Keenan, still enacting the r6le of spokesman. “Have you and Hor- ton agreed to take us against the Pirates again?” “Yes.” : “Well, we've had enough of the Pirates. You know what they did to me. Lattimer uses that crowd to work out all sorts of crooked schemes. We've talked the mat- ter over, and we’ve made up our minds that we won't have any more contests with the Pirates. We hate to go on record like this, for you and Horton have both treated us mighty white, but you shouldn’t ask us to have anything more to do with Lattimer’s crowd. Lattimer made a pris- oner of me, when I was coming to Blyfield to join Mer- riwell’s Athletes, and he sent a criminal on here, under my name, to run with the Athletes and to throw the race. If it hadn’t been for Villum Kess, the Pirates would have cleaned up on our fellows last Saturday.” “Sure as anyding!” piped Villum Kess, rising on his toes and pushing out his chest. “I been der star ber- former dot time, I bet you. Blease, don’d anypody for- get aboudt it.” “Then,” put in Pennyworth, frowning, “you know, Chip, how Lattimer had Chester Brezee join the Athletes, while ‘under contract with the Pirates, and tried to make trouble and hire some of our fellows away from you and Horton.” _ “And you know what Lattimer tried to do to me,” spoke up John Glory. “That fellow’s a skunk and a tinhorn; and so is Chet Brezee, It isn’t right to ask us to ' meet that crowd again.” Merriwell and Horton both saw that the matter was pretty serious. Frank would have started in to soothe the ruffled feelings of the team had not Horton motioned him to silence, and himself taken the matter in hand. ” “Boys,” said he pleasantly, “I don’t know as. I blame you, considering the fact that your knowledge of the cir- cumstances is rather limited. I’m proud of this team, and proud of the way every member of it has conducted himself, so far. In these preliminary skirmishes, we're just getting together, and, as you might say, finding our- selves. We have fought crooked sport with clean athletics, and we have won. That has been a big help to us—a big- ver help than I think you realize—and it has brought out our teamwork. and welded us into a fighting unit. With Merriwell’s. Athletes, my lads, it is mot every man for TOP WEEKLY. himself, but every man for every other man, and all for the good of the team, This afternoon, for the first time, you have shown a lack of confidence in your captain and in me. That amounts to a lack of teamwork, and I am sorry for it; but, as I said, I don’t blame you very much, for your information isn’t complete in the matter of this next game with the Pirates. You should have trusted Captain Merriwell, though,'even if you don’t trust me.’ “We're trusting Merriwell,’ blurted’ out Rodno. “But he protested against that race meet with the Pirates, Mr. Horton, and it had to go on because you insisted.” “Not so fast, Rodno,” put in Frank. “I withdrew my protest as soon as Rufus explained matters. He was right and I was wrong, that’s all.. And he’s right now, and youre all wrong, as you'll find out pretty soon.” Rufus Horton gave Frank an approving smile, and nee turned to continue his talk to the lads. “During that race meet, Lattimer proved himself a ras- cal. We all know that.. He acted in a lawless, high- handed manner. By his treatment of Dart Keenan, -he and Brezee both laid themselves liable to prosecution, under the law. A lad by the name of Ledyard, a pro- fessional ‘sprinter and a crooked athlete, came ‘here and posed as Keenan. We put him in the mile run, amd he tried to throw the race to the Pirates. - The scheme failed ——” “Pecause oof me,’ bubbled Villum, again on his toes and his chest swelling; “yah, so, pecause oof me!” “Well,” proceeded Horton, “Lattimer and Brezee were afraid to remain and face the consequences. They have fled for parts unknown, and no one here or in Trawlee knows where they are. The amateur crowd which Lat- timer was getting together to tour the West, just as our team is going to do, has suddenly been left in the lurch. Some of Lattimer’s men came from a long distance, and they now find themselves stranded in Trawlee, without a penny to pay their board bills or to pay their transpor- tation back to their home towns. There is not one of the outfit that’ I would want for Merriwell’s Athletes, unless, possibly, it is Plainwell. Plainwell came to me personally and asked for a hall game, the gate receipts to go toward defraying the expenses of the stranded men who formed the crowd known as the Pirates. With. Lattimer and Brezee both out of the matter, I thought you would be more than willing to give the other chaps a helping hand. That is the reason I agreed to a final ball game with the Pirates next Saturday. Now——” As the explanation proceeded, gradually the troubled looks had left thé faces of the imutineers. Rel ief and pleasure now shone in every face. a “We're a nice bunch of quitters, I must say!” Penny- worth suddenly cried. “You hit the nail right on the head, Rufus! We hadn’t enough confidence in you and Chip. If we'd only known, if you'd only tipped us off before, you wouldn’t have seen ts making fools of ourselves this afternoon.” “It's my fault,” said Horton, laughing. “I intended to explain, or to let Chip do it when he announced the coming game. You picked up a little information somewhere, and you merely failed to get the whole of it. Is every- thing all right now?” A chorus of affirmatives went up from the athlete “We'll do our best, with vim and zest, to send the Pirates home to rest,” barked Billy Dill, who had been waiting for a chance to get in a few of his rhymes. Sete RS i REET ETS neo eal ett i a NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. s. “Vat a fine pitzness I don’d know,” chirped Villum, “und vat a habbiness to hellup dose Birates oudt oof der game. Laddinier iss some pad eggs, und iss bedder off oof der country don’d got him.” The incipient mutiny had been effectually quelled. The generous-hearted youngsters were only too glad to play a.game with their former rivals and thus afford them the means of transportation back to their home towns. With the rascally Lattimer and the unprincipled Brezee entirely out of the affair, the whole aspect of the ques- tion had undergone a change. CHAPTER II. FRIDAY NIGHT. The “benefit” game for’ the relief of the stranded Pirates was to be played on the Blyfield diamond. All the contests between the Athletes and the Pirates had been staged on the academy field. This particular match - would have taken place at Trawlee, where Lattimer had gathered his team and where'he had deserted them, had not the matter of gate receipts entered prominently into the question. Because of local pride in Rufus Horton’s enterprise, and in what young Frank Merriwell had done for the Blyfield Academy athletes, it was conceded that ‘more people would turn out to see the game at Blyfield than could possibly be mustered at Trawlee. And if this was to be a benefit, then it ought to be as big a benefit as Since the race meet with the Pirates, a phenomenal ‘amateur athlete had been added to Merriwell’s squad in the person of Dart Keenan. Keenan was an all-around ‘man, and almost equally proficient in sports of field or track. But he was not an all-around ball player, although there were one or two positions in which he excelled. ~ He could catch, or he could play one of the bases in masterly style. But he was not a twirler. Frank was ‘sorry not to find him a mound-artist, for the Athletes were especially weak in pitching material. Frank, of course, was the mainstay at ball tossing; but n tour, when the games might be coming daily, it would : be possible for him to go into the pitcher’s box for every game. Besides himself, there was but one other in the team tho had speed and control in front of a batter. This her was Hop Wah, and, in his way, the Chinaman was wonder. He had been tried out in many positions on 1¢ diamond, and in all of them his work was remarkably : In the race meet, Hop Wah had lost a hurdle flight to 1e Pirates. A lad by the name of Sinkers, shortstop on attimer’s nine, had taken the race from him. Now it as whispered around that, with Brezee gone from the’ tes, Sinkers was to pitch in the benefit game. So Hop fah was eager to pitch for the Athletes. s soul if he could beat Sinkers at ball tossing, as an off- the work at the hurdles. / Q "Athletes were just as anxious to win this game. rom their old-enemies as they would have been had it not yurely a benefit performance. The idea was to score ny victories for the Athletes as possible. It was 's purpose to let Hop go into the box when the game ed, and then to watch him and take him out in e showed signs of wavering, or in case it happened It would solace to be an “off day” with him. Even the best pitchers have their poor days, when they are wild and uncertain. But, with only two pitchers, Frank felt that the team would begin its tour sadly handicapped. Frank, himself, could use either “wing” with equal facility, and could change from right hand to left at a moment’s notice when- ever occasion demanded. Hop was not ambidextrous, and his right hand had to serve. A good “southpaw” would have added an element of strength, and Frank regretted that there was no such material in sight. Nod Coddington, a student of Blyfield Academy, who had joined the Athletes, was practicing for the mound, but he was coming very slowly, and it might be weeks before he would develop into anything more than ordinary. At the beginning of the tour, it looked as though Frank and Hop would be the only pitchers whom the Athletes could depend on. If an injury happened to either of them, one alone would be left to bear the brunt of com- ing battles. This weak point in the line-up troubled Merry not a little. In the two or three days preceding Saturday, and the last game with the Pirates, Frank sent Hop from second into the pitcher’s box, and turned the second base over to Keenan. The change worked well, and Frank, for the time, became a bench captain, and put the nine through a lot of hard work. Pennyworth, the cowboy, was a remarkably good back- stop, and one would have had to hunt a long time before finding a better man at first than Owen Clancy. Dill at short, Cod at third* and Rod, Kess, and Glory in the out- field, offered a splendidly working combination. The good feeling generated among the Athletes by Horton’s explanation of the reasons underlying the final match with the Pirates sent all into the practice work with the greatest enthusiasm. They would help the Pi- rates to a get-away stake, but the Pirates would have to pay for it with a defeat. Cheerfully they would turn over to them the gate receipts, but they would fight-like fiends for the larger score. Only one ball game had been played with the Pirates. In that match, the rival nine had shown such ability to play real ball that, right up to the last half of the ninth, it had looked as though they had had the game “sewed ~ up.”. But the final inning had told a different story. _ Because of this, the Athletes knew very well that they © were not going to have a walk-away. They would play the game for all that was in them, and there was a chance, even then, of their losing it. The uncertainty was sufficient, at least, to put every player on his toes, and \to fire him with a determination to do or die. Chester Brezee was an unscrupulous chap, but he was a good pitcher. game against the Athletes, of it, the Athletes might congratulate themselves on. the fact that their opponents were greatly weakened. Yet. this did not follow. Lattimer was shrewd, and most cer- tainly he had planned to have a staff of good pitchers. Was Sinkers, the ree one of the twirlers — in reserve? In spite of the rumors that had reached Blyfield, ranks did not believe that Sinkers was the one to replace Brezee, _ Perhaps some unknown, some fellow whom the Athletes — had not as yet seen or had a a to measure, would be put forward. If Sinkers really went into the box for the Piraies,: thea It was he who had twirled for that close — ; Now that Brezee was out ~ 4 NEW TIP. it was quite likely that Hop Wah would work out well against him for the Athletes.~ Hop would bring to his pitching a memory of the defeat at the hurdles, and this would nerve him to do his utmost—and his best was al- ways remarkably good. But suppose, at the last moment, a “dark horse” got into the center of the diamond and confronted the Ath- letes’ batters? Hop might not be equal to the occasion, and Merry himself might have to step in. Frank, however, was not worrying. His air was‘ one of confidence in the outcome, and his teammates reflected his spirit. This was as it should be. All the Athletes considered their captain invincible, and Frank’s mood was always encouraging and always prevailed among the rank and file. Following supper, Friday evening, Frank and Owen sat on the veranda of the Borden House, where the Athletes made their Blyfield headquarters. Rod and Penn were playing checkers in the hotel office, and a number of the lads were clustered around them, watching the game. ‘Others were reading, and one or two had gone to their rooms, but all were off the streets and spending the even- ing quietly, each in his own way. “T wonder, Chip,” Clancy said to Merry, in a low tone, “Sf we are really done with Lucius Lattimer?” “Done with him, Red?” repeated Frank, surprised. “He’s pretty close to what you call a fugitive from justice. That means that he has left these parts for good, and taken Brezee along with him, Of course we're done with him.” “Horton hasn’t put the authorities on Lattimer’s track, has he? Or on Brezee’s?” “No »”» “Then they’re not really fugitives from justice, are they?” “Looking at it that way, Clan, no. But just consider, old man, that if either of the two shows up, all Horton has to do ig to start the wheels of justice going. So far as I know, he hasn’t any intention of doing such a thing; but neither Lattimer nor Brezee knows that. What they don’t know, you see, will keep them away from this part of the cduntry for a long time.” “I guess that’s tight. Still, Chip, that Lattimer is a - smooth proposition. Somehow or other he’s able to get one contest after another out of us, and to try his under- hand work in every one of them.| Maybe——” Clancy paused. “You don’t think for a minute that he’s really back of the Pirates in this last game?” queried Frank, with a half laugh. “No, I can’t say that I think that,” mused Clancy; “but we may not be done with the fellow, ‘for all that he seems to have skipped out for good. He’s one of the sort that you never can tell what he’s going to do, or know very much about what he has done—until it’s too late to help matters.” _ “Forget it, Clan,” said Merry. “Don’t, for Heaven’s ‘sake, get such a notion started among the boys! Strikes me it’s a foolish notion, anyhow.” Before Clancy could answer, a barefooted youngster came up on the porch from the street. He peered about him in the half gloom; and finally made directly for Merriwell. ‘ F “Hello, Chip!” the lad sang out. “Say, a guy givé me yA SAS Dae ON" ee dele Lak & ‘ seas laa AGP WEERLY. a quarter to bring this here note to you.” He handed over a folded scrap of paper as he spoke. “What guy, kid?” Merry queried. “Gee! that’s too many for me. Stranger he’ was—I never seen him before. I didn’t ask no questions, but jest gobbled the two bits and piked for here.” “Is there an answer?” “Nothin’ was said about an answer. Anyways, I dunno where to find the guy, if you had anythin’ to write back to him,” The urchin went whistling away, and Frank, getting. up from his chair, backed close to a lighted window, un- folded the note, and read it carefully. “What's it all about, Chip?” queried Clancy curiously. “Tell you later, Clan,” was the answer. ‘What time is it?” Clancy did not know, and Frank peered through the office. window at a clock on the wall. “Eight,” Frank muttered, “and I’m a schedule.” back in half an hour, or an hour at the latest, Red,” said Frank, “and then Ill tell you all about this. Just now I’m to keep mum.” little behind Clancy watched his chum gain the street, and then move off ‘in the direction of the river. “Something deuced queer about that,” reflected the red- headed chap. “What the deuce do you suppose is up? Chip’s as close about it as a clam. Well,’ and he settled back in his chair, “V’ll wait for half an hour, or an hour, and then I'll know.” The half hour passed without bringing Merry, and then — a full hour slipped away. Clancy, watching the street ex- pectantly, waited another hour without being rejoined by his chum. By then it was ten o’clock, and Clancy was getting worried. “Something’s keeping Chip,’ murmured Clancy, “but what? I guess I’ll get nosey, and try and find out. It’s not. like Chip to be gone two hours when he said he’d only be gone an hour, at the most. I'll go and look for him.” With that, he left the veranda, and started along the street in the direction Merriwell had taken. CHAPTER III. BLACK VILLAINY, The note handed to Merriwell by the barefooted lad, and whose contents he had held back from Clancy, ran as follows: ; ’ 7 “DEAR MERRIWELL : ter of the utmost importance, and it won’t be possible for me to talk with you openly. I hate to sneak around and do things in the dark, but that’s what I’! have to do now if I talk with you at all. This chin-chin will have'to be pulled off before the game, and to-night will be our last chance. Can you meet me by the ruins of the old ware- house, foot of Main Street, close to the river bank? Be there by eight o’clock, if possible, and don't let a soul know you have received these few lines from “ABE PLAINWELL.” This was why Merriwell had said nothing to Clancy about the contents of the note,-and it also explains why Pee S He started for the veranda ‘steps. “T’ll. be: IT must see you at once on a mat- = os PB Sct een a oa : " elite ting ie nr eee Se Scatter s Se So a + aes a < + NEW. TIP TOP WEEKLY. 3 5 he had left the hotel and proceeded hurriedly along the main street in the direction of the river. Plainwell was well known to Frank. He was a “prep” school youngster, and had been one of the Trawlee Hall . squad of athletes in certain winter sports contested ‘with Blyfield Academy. When Lattimer had started to get to- gether a team of crack amateurs, Plainwell was one of the first fellows he secured. Frank knew that there was not a crooked hair in Plain- well’s head. He was straight as a die and clean as a whistle. Lattimer had fooled Plainwell, up to the time of the Dart’ Keenan episode. That affair brought out Lat- timer’s rascality ‘so clearly that no one could have been further deceived by Lattimer’s plausible words or hypo- critical posings. And Plainwell had declared openly that he was done with Lattimer and the Pirates. Lattimer and Brezee, however, had abandoned the Pi- rates. Plainwell had not cut loose from the stranded athletes, but, so Frank reasoned, had remained with them to help them out of théir financial difficulties. Frank believed that Plainwell must have something of great importance to communicate to him, if he had to take . all those precautions to keep the interview a secret. And, knowing that Plainwell was straight and clean, Frank did not hesitate a moment to answer the note in person. The old warehouse at the foot of Main Street had been burned, in rather dramatic circumstances, several months before. The charred beams \and débris had not been cleared away, but still littered the site of the destroyed ‘building. It was a lonely spot, at night, and just the place for a private interview between friends—or for a deed of sudden and unforeseen treachery. Frank, already a little behind the scheduled hour, «ame hurriedly into the shadow of the old ruins. He peered about expectantly, but could see no one. Giving vent to a low whistle to announce his “presence, he waited for Plainwell to show himself. The Trawlee lad did not appear, but andther guarded whistle reached Frank’s ears from the side of the ruins nearest the river. He moved quickly around the tangle of blackened timbers; and then, like lightning out of a clear sky, was set upon by three wraithlike figures. These figures seemed to arise out of the very ground, so suddenly did they show themselves. The attack was well planned, in more ways than one, % One man, who leaped up behind Frank, carried a blanket. This he threw over the lad’s head, drawing it close to smother any outcry. The other two men, at the same moment, seized Frank on either side, clinging to his arms and forcing him backward to the ground. Merriwell, who had not dreamed of encountering treachery, was taken entirely by surprise. Stifled by the blanket, and held as in a vise by the strong hands of his captors, when he finally tried to fight for his freedom his struggles were useless. He felt himself pushed over on his side. Both arms were wrenched around to his back, and he was conscious of cords tightening around his wrists. Then his feet were bound; and, after that, the blanket was carefully removed from his head and shoulders and twisted cloth was forced between his jaws and tied in that. position. Anger and indignation ran hot in his veins. Such law- lessness—and with the crowded main street of Blyfield no more than a pistol shot away! He writhed furiously as he exerted his strength to break the cords. “Cut it out, my festive young friend!” murmured a husky, but somehow familiar, voice. “We've got you dead to rights, for once. Take it easy. All your squirming won't help you a particle.” Astonishment caused Frank to cease his struggles: Un- less he was greatly mistaken, the fellow who had just spoken was none other than Chester Brezee! He strained his eyes at the dark, slouching figure. A taller form stepped to the side of Brezee, and bent downward. “We've got you on the hip, Merriwell,” said the second man, “and you might as well take your medicine with a good grace.” Here the man chuckled. “I reckoned you’d bite at that bait. Allowed you'd find Plainwell here, eh? Well, hardly. Plainwell isn’t in this—signing his name to that note was my idea.” Merry’s astonishment continued to increase. This sec- ond speaker was Lucius Lattimer. What little he said was highly illuminating. Clancy’s premonitions, voiced just previous to the re- ceipt of the supposed note from Plainwell, were proving well grounded. Frank was not yet done with Lattimer and Brezee. They had not fled far from Blyfield and Traw- lee, but had been hiding out in the vicinity of the two towns and continuing to plot and scheme. This dastardly move was wholly of their devising. Merriwell was glad to know that Plainwell had had nothing to do. with it. But what was the object? Frank tried to talk, to express his feelings and to make demands for his liberty. But only an incoherent murmur came from behind the smothering cloth. “T know you'd like blame’ well to give us a piece of your mind,” muttered, Brezee, with a short, ugly laugh, “but we've put a stopper on your jaw tackle, Merriwell, and it’s no use.” “We're not going to hurt you,” added Lattimer. “All we want to do is to get you out of the way for to- morrow. You’ye played the devil with my plans right along, but this time we’ve arranged for a sure thing. Don’t blame the Pirates for this, Merriwell, for they’re not mixed up in it at all. It’s just Brezee and me. I had bet so much money on that mile run durin’ the race meet that it pretty nearly sent me to the wall, but I’ve scraped to- gether a few hundred out of the wreck and I’ve got a fellow who will place it for me with some of your Bly- — field sports. With you out of that game, the Pirates will win. Get me? That’s why we're working to keep you out of it.” Lattimer straightened and partly turned in the direc- tion of the third man who had taken a hand in Merri- well’s capture. “Andy,” Lattimer went on, “you reconnoiter and see if the coast is clear between here and the river.” Frank could hear shuffling footsteps moving away. As- suming that Lattimer was. telling the truth, Frank was be- ginning to get a little light on the motives of his captors. He had small reason to doubt Lattimer’s statements, for they matched his character in every particular, and agreed with other known facts. Lattimer was a gambler, and he had gathered his crowd of athletes in Trawlee with the intention of using the team to better his own fortunes. Wherever there was an ath- letic contest, he would back the Pirates with money; or, if he could arrange with some of the Pirates to “fall down,” he wofild back their antagonists. It really made NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. _no difference to Lattimer which side he was betting on, so long as he was fairly sure that that side would win. In the case of the race meet, he had villainously schemed to have the best runner put forward by Merriwell’s Ath- letes “throw” the race. Feeling positive that the cunning plan would succeed, Lattimer had plunged on the result - —and the result had nearly ruined him financially. His mask had been stripped away, and he had been revealed for the lawless trickster that he was. Even now he could not resist his scheming. He rea- soned, and perhaps correctly, that if young Frank Merri- well was not on hand to pitch for the Athletes during that “benefit” game, the Pirates would probably win. So he and Brezee, in order to recoup their depleted finances, were plotting to eliminate Frank froth the contest of the following afternoon. While Frank was turning these matters over in his mind, the fellow called Andy returned and announced that the coast was clear. The prisoner was then lifted from ~the’ground by Lattimer and Brezee, hastily borne down to the water’s edge, and lowered into a skiff that was tied alongside the academy pier. There was not room in the skiff for Andy. “ll go through the town, Lucius,” said he to Lattimer, “and meet you in the yards.” “Have everything ready,” admonished Lattimer. \ “Sure,” was the answer, and Andy disappeared up the ‘iver bank. ‘All this talk had set Merry to wondering what Latti- mer and Brezee were intending to do with him. They would not dare resort to anything very desperate, Merry felt sure, for the law was still threatening them on ac- ‘count of their plots against Dart Keenan. \ \ Lattimer untied the boat and Brezee took the oars. © They did not go more than a quarter of a mile down the river, Brezee keeping close to the shadow of the bank all the way, when they made a landing. Lattimer and Brezee pulled the nose of the skiff up on the sloping bank, and then the prisoner was lifted out, rolled under a fence, borne across a meadow, then through a patch of timber, and finally into the railroad yards below Bly- field. | Here there were two or three cars set out on a sid- ing. From the shadow of these cars silently emerged a -man who proved to be Andy. _ “Everything all right, Andy?” ih ia Lattimer, in a husky whisper. - “Right as can be,” was ‘the answer. “I’ve got the door of the ‘empty’ open, and there’ll be no trouble at all put- ng Merriwell inside.” “Is the train due?” : “I can see the yheadlight now. But there’s no hurry. s a local, you know, and there’ll be some stuff to un- ad at Blyfield before this ‘empty’ is picked up.” “And you're sure the ‘empty’ will be picked up, eh?” “T got that straight from the agent. Before Merriwell gets out of that empty ‘box,’ he’ Il be so far away he can’t get back before the game.” Already the ‘distant rumble -of the freight train could be heard, and the plotters hurried their prisoner toward the cars on the siding. In a few moments Merry was ifted and rolled through the side oor of an empty freight - Lattimer climbed in, struck a match to make final mination of the gag and bonds, then pinched out the : g on and laughed jeeringly. ses “As I said, Merriwell,” he remarked, “you’re not going to be hurt, but you’re going to take a little ride in a side-door Pullman. You'll be found and released before you have a chance to starve to death, but not before that game to-morrow afternoon. This is one time, I reckon, that Lattimer got the best of you. Good-by, and a pleas- ant journey.” With. that, Lucius Lattimer walked to the car door, stood for a moment in the square opening, and then jumped out. A second later the door was drawn shut, and Merriwell was left alone in the empty freight car. CHAPTER IV. A TRYING RIDE. So the upshot of Lattimer’s black villainy was * this, that Frank, bound and helpless in an empty box car, was to go down the road on a local freight train—a train that crawled from station to station and dawdled at every stop — to unload goods. Of course, it had been learned by the schemers that the “empty,” in which Frank had been placed, was bound for some distant point; if that detail had not been settled in advance, the aims of the plotters might have fallen through. _ Frank heard the freight come to a-halt at the Blyfield station. The locomotive stood on the main track almost abreast of the “empty” on the siding, and the throb and_ pant of the iron horse dinned in the lad’s ears. : ae He made a frantic effort to free himself of the cords, — hoping against hope that he could get away and escape Lattimer’s cunning net before the box car was hauled out _ of Blyfield. But the cords held, and his furious efforts resulted in nothing. He could hear the engineer and fireman talking in the — engine cab, and he tried to make a noise that they could ~ hear above the exhaust of the locomotive. In this he failed. Rolling over and over until he reached the door opposite that through which-he had been carried into the car, he began striking the wood with his bound heels. — This attempt was equally fruitless. It was impossible to attract the attention of the engine crew, or of any of the other trainmen. : Finally the locomotive, with part of the train, pulled off down the track. Then there was maneuvering at the — switch, and the rear of the train, cam@ down on the empty box car with a jolt that flung Merry roughly against the car side. The coupling was made, the car was drawn out upon the main track, and then there was more backing to’ pick up the rest of the train and the trailing’ way car. There was another terrific jolt as the two halves of the train came together, and Merry was hurled to the othe side of the car. VN ee A brakeman ran the length of the toepath overhead. His falling feet awoke hollow echoes in the car, and pres- ently the long string of loads got in motion, and the freight was off toward Trawlee. ene frying journey had begun ! uN Frank was bruised and dazed ghd angry. He was not much worried about himself, for he knew Lattimer wa right in saying that he’d be discovered and released before he could starve to death, but he was worried about the Athletes-Pirates game. Unless chance favored him greatly, he would not get out of his predicament in time to return to Blyfield pad have anything to do nt th contest. NEW. TIP And, then, what would his teammates think of his sud- den disappearance? What would Rufus Horton think? Clancy could be depended on to stir things up, and what would be the result when Merry was found to be mys- ° teriously missing? Of course, there would be a great hullaballoo. But the benefit game would go on. It had been well advertised, and there would be a big crowd on hand to see the match. Even if Frank was out of the playing, the nines would have to line up against each other at the appointed time. What sort of a showing would the Athletes make? It was certain that Frank’s tragic absence would have a bad effect; and, minus a captain, and with nerves unstrung, the prospect of a good showing by the nine was dark in- deed. All this would help to make Lattimer’s black schem- ing result successfully. : All the way from Blyfield to Trawlee Frank was rolled back and forth across the floor of the car. There were intervals when he tried to wedge himself in ‘a corner, Or against one side of the tossing “empty,” and think over the situation; and there were other times when he fought with the cords, trying desperately to release himself. His _ thoughts, however, brought him little comfort, and his at- tempts to free his hands brought no success. _ There was a long stop at Trawlee, and he endeavored to _ pound the floor and sides of the car. with his heels and attract attention. No one heard him. . At last, when the train pulled out of Trawlee, he gave up hope, and resigned himself to wait until the car was set out at the point to oa which it was being hauled. ‘In time, he was able to get himself placed so that the - iY “motion of the car could not dislodge him. This gave _ him a little comfort, and, ds the slow hours dragged, his weariness overcame him, and he sank into fitful slumber. _ He opened his “eyes finally, to discover daylight shining in at the cracks around the doors, were numb and full of shooting pains. hoisted himself to a sitting posture. _ The train was at a standstill, and he wondered if the € “empty” had reached its destination, and had been set out on a siding. His speculations regarding this were brought ee an abrupt close, for, with a jerk, the car got into With an effort he z * SBe far had the freight carried him during the long night hours? Frank could torment himself with this ques- tion, but naturally had no means of answering it. He ould only remain where He was and wait and hope for he best. | His sleep had refreshed and Gadied his brain somewhat, Ithough it had done him little good physically. He was sruised and sore; his wrists were swollen from the cords and the efforts he had made to get rid of them; and hun- ger and thirst were beginning to make themselves felt. While he braced himself in a sitting posture against the ide of the car, he “began chewing hard at the cloth that’ ai been. ‘tied between his teeth. But some demon of ad- er ity continued to attend all his efforts to obtain free- “He nee unable to make any impression on the ‘bars dragged on, ‘mahi and again, while ie train at various stations and he could hear crates and 3 unloaded, he endeavored to make a noise that would erheard, None of the trainmen ware him the eae ¢ attention. n the gloomy interior of tha car Frank hed no > means TOP His arms and legs’ WERE eee os 7 of keeping track of the time. He could only guess:at the passing of the hours. It did not seem possible to him that the empty car could be carried much farther. As a means toward beguiling the weariness of waiting, he fell to guessing about the station where the car would be left. But it was always the next, and the next, until the monotony of failure got on his nerves and he gave up. At last, while the train was at a standstill, Frank heard — 4 Some one | A quick, stealthy hand shoved — a sound that caused him to prick up his ears. was at the door of the car. it backward a little, and then a form squeezed through and the door was closed again. For possibly a minute Merry had the form clearly under his eyes in the sunlight. It was the form of a youth, pos- : sibly eighteen, and was clad in rough, ill-fitting clothes. The face was good natured, but shrewd, and the eyes were set close together and the nose was short and tip-tilted. The lad was a hobo, from appearance. He brought with him a bundle wrapped in dirty brown paper. It is needless to say that Frank was overjoyed to have a. companion, eyen an intruder bent on stealing a ride, climb into the car. Here was a chance to receive aid—~ the very first chance that had come Frank’s way since he had been left a prisoner in the “empty.” . The tramp began making himself at home. He Wega a long sigh of relief and settled down on the floor. In spite of the gloom, Frank could see him with tolerable dis- tinctness; but the hobo, just in from the glare of sun- light, was as yet unable to see that there was ‘any one else in the car. Pulling the paper-wrapped parcel to his knees, the hob began taking off, the string that encircled it. This done, he opened, before Frank’s famished eyes, a packet of cold lunch. It was not an extensive lunch, but it was quite choice, what there was of it. Merry saw a small roast chicken, half a loaf of bread, a pound of cheese, a f E crackers, and a bottle of water—at Jeast, Frank hoped the bottle contained water. Once more the train got under way. Merry ted been busy with his observations, and hoping the tramp wo Id look in his direction and.see him.. Now, in order to at tract his attention, he a eS on the car Are with his heels. “Hully chee!” exclaimed the startled baba, theowings “ his head stiddenly. “What’s that?” Merry continued to pound on the floor. - The other lad peered in his direction and rose slowly to his feet. “Do I see somet’in’, or don’t I? the hobo gulped, “I there’s any one there, why don’t you speak outz. Hello, cull!” Bang! bang! went Frank's heels on the car Asie “Are you deef and dumb, neighbor?” demanded the hobo. “What're yu doin’ here, eh? Why don’t y’a come : down stage and gi’ me a look - at your Pe aes queer way to act!” Frank continued to pound the ‘holies At last shee ‘hobo! curiosity got the bétter of him and he came toward th other occupant of the car. Putting out a hand uncer. tainly, he allowed it to rest on Frank’s head; ther groping fingers dropped tor te” as i dps Ee “Moly. hoses!” he’. exclaimed. “Now i; twig ‘this I out, mate. No wonder yu couldn't. tune up your - with that between your jaws. Wait a jifft!” aie a He braced himself on thie le Jeng fost pans . NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. - in a few moments, had untied and removed the twisted cloth. “Much obliged,” “Hadn't an idee I had a_travellin’ marked the tranip, with an amused laugh. thing like that to you, cull?” “A fellow who wanted to put me out of the Way.” “He couldn’t ’a’ meant it. If he really wanted to put yu out o’ the way, why didn’t he go the whole hog and tap yu one on the head?” “He didn’t want to go that far. What time is it?” / “My diamond-studded chronometer’s got mislaid, but, said Frank gratefully. companion,” re- “Who done a makin’ a guess, I’d say it’s some’r’s between eleven and twelve. Ain’t that a watch chain on. your vest? If it is, why don’t y’u look up the time for yourself?” “My hands are tied, and I can’t.” “Chee, * they at H’ist around here till I get off the ropes.” — _ Frank shifted his position, and his companion began ,working at the cords. “Take it from me, cull, your hands is in tur’ble shape— all swollen up and puffylike. Nice way to treat a feller, I must say! There—now your hands is all right. Want me to unloose your feet? Guess I better; I allow you -couldn’t do it yourself, yet.” _ He began on the cords that secured Frank’s ankles. As he worked, he inquired: “What’s your monaker, *bo? Y’u needn’t be scart 0’ me. If y’u have done anythin’ y’u hadn’t ort to, P’ll not split.” Frank laughed. ~“Den’t get’ me wrong, old man,” he answered. “I’ve Y - got a clean Tecord. My name’s Abecriye®, Frank Merri- well, junior,” The other fell back with a gasp. “Frank Merriwell, junior,” he exclaimed. “Better come } again with the monaker. I thought you said you was straight?” \ CHAPTER V. BALTIMORE JOE. . Frank was rubbing his benumbed arms to get the cramps out of his bones and to restore circulation. The actions of his tramp rescuer brought a laugh to his lips. “What is there about the name,” he asked, “that makes -you think I’m lying to you?” “It’s a bluff to curl your hair,” answered the tramp. “This Frank Merriwell, junior, is some kid, and you're handin’ me something, that ain’t accordin’ to league rules. Now, is it likely I’d run onto that chip of the old block in this empty ‘box’ with ropes on his lunch hooks and his kicks, and a Maxim silencer pushed into his face?” “Well, whether it’s likely or not,” said Frank chuckling, ’s Chip Merriwell you found in here—and it’s a hungry ‘hip Merriwell, too.” He threw a yearning glance in he direction of the roast chicken. ‘l'ye been in this car all night and haven’t had a mouthful f breakfast.” ‘I can’t bring myself to think you ‘re the real ect: well boy,” returned the tramp, resuming work on.the ropes at Frank’s ankles, “but I'll call you Chip till I find out dif- ‘rent. After x get off these lashings, we'll smother that “You see,” he added, “What’s your name?” queried Frank. “Baltimore Joe is the way I register on the water tanks,” “Joe—what ?” “No, not What. Just plain Baltimore Joe; but if y’u want to be formal y’u can say Joseph. I’m the Sandlot Cyclone, the Back-alley Pippin, and the. biggest little thing that ever missed the lamps of the major-league scouts.” “Do you mean that you’re a ball player?” “Do I mean—— Oh, police! Say, Chip, if y’u talk like that I'll think you’re chipped in the block. Ever’ time I wiggle my wing somethin’ goes across that nobody can hit.” “You're a pitcher?” “Somebody told,y’u! Now, who’n blazes spilled that? But, say! Travelin’ ’round on the trucks or in the boxes, what chance do I get at a diamond? I tarry a spell in the big bergs just to warm up with-some neighborhood nine, then on ag’in, off ag’in!” : “Professional ?” “Not at all. I’ve needed the mon lots o’ times, Chip, but never yet have I[ played ball for so much as a two-bit piece. D’you know, I made a start for this Blyfield berg just to see if Merriwell would make room for me on that squad of amateurs he’s rounding up? Well, I did. I just forgot myself to that extent.” “Well,” said Frank, deeply interested in spite of his aches and pains and his hunger, “you’re not going to- ward Blyfield now, Joe, but away from the town.” ati remarked Baltimore Joe, “and you'll make with somethin’ wrong in my head. I got a reason.” 3 “Keep on; me out a Jasper, Course I’m goin’ away from Blyfield. “What's the reason?” ° “I’m ‘a nice bundle of trash to tie up with the real Charley boys, ain’t I? This Merriwell ’u’d look at me once, then push me into the discard. D’yo let me trot a heat with a prize crowd o’ gents? Nit, not, no. The way I wasn’t brought up makes the dif- — f’rence. I seen the light just before the west-bound pas- senger hit Blyfield, so I stayed on ne blind baggage and didn’t drop off.” : “Look here,” cried Frank, “do you think Merriwell oro 7 his Athletes are a lot of cads?” oe “No difference what I think. Use your feet and come | on to the dinin’ room.” . . For Frank to use his feet was a difficult matter. The moment he tried to stand, his benumbed legs gave we under him, and he crumpled to the car floor. se “Bad as that, huh?” said Joe. “Well, Chip, if yu can’t walk, crawl. You'll feel better after warehousin’ some 0’ © that chicken. I come by it honest, and not aa by pan ~ handlin’.. Don’t let it choke y’u.” me Frank managed to make his way to the place where Joe had set out the lunch. The bottle proved to be full of cold tea, and he began his meal with a long and tefresh- ing drink. ie “Funny how I come to hit this car,” remarked ae * talking between mouthfuls. “I was aimin’ for the ‘box’ next behind; but as I reached. up toward the door a big. card marked ‘Dynamite’ stared me in the face. That’s what we got in the rear o’ us, Chip—a hull cargo 0’ blow- up stuff, which would be nice to go into a wreck with, | don’t think. Next try I hit this, and the jinx was lookin’ reckon he’d ‘NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. _ eg oS. the other way, ’cause it proved to be an ‘empty.’ So that is how, Chip Merriwell, you and me come to get ac- quainted. I could slam ’em through,” and Joe removed from the breast of his coat a badly soiled league ball. “Carry that around with you?” asked Frank, his in- terest growing in the peculiar chap into whose company fate had thrown him. “Oh, doctor! Say, d’you ever carry anythin’ around with yu when y’u got it in your pocket? It’s just to practice with—spits, and jumps, and the diff’rent kinds 0’ shoots. No matter where I am, I try to keep my pitchin’ arm limbered up.” “You’re a queer chap, Joe.” “Queer, but not dotty. Any Oppreacta to tellin’ me somethin’ about yourself?” “No, certainly not,” answered Frank. Then he went on to explain about Lattimer and the Pirates. He had to go back pretty well toward the be- ginning of experiences with Lattimer in order to give Joe a thorough knowledge of the present situation. The young tramp listened, with wide eyes, and an enthusiasm which, now and then, cropped out in spite of him. When Frank had finished, the cold lunch was about fin- ished, too. Joe got to his feet, opened the sliding door of the car a few inches, and pushed out the chicken bones with one foot. He proceeded deliberately, thoughtfully, and before he closed the door he paused to look Merry over in the better light. . “Guess I was balled up,” he muttered. don, ’bo.” “Why are you begging my pardon?” “Beg your par- ‘ “Because I tagged y’u wrong. You're the right Chip, and I’m just beginnin’ to play you. for the real thing. Some pitcher yourself, eh? Get over to the end o’ the car and lamp this as it comes through.” Frank, by that time, was able to stand on his feet. He made his way to the farther end of the freight car, while. Joe planted himself at the other end. The train was grinding on grades and swinging around ‘curves, and the _ footing was very poor for any sort of ball tossing) How- ever, Baltimore Joe “wound up” and sent the horsehide at _ Frank. It was a very pretty drop. Frank scooped it ‘Off the boards. His bruised and swol- _ len hands were terribly jarred, and he felt darting pains clear up to his shoulder. _ “Jupiter!” he exclaimed, wincing. “You’re left-handed !” vs “Well, well!’ chirped Joe; “you noticed that, didn’t yas Now I'll give y’u a fast one, and——” : “Not now, Joe,” protested. Frank, backing away: “My hands and arms are in no shape for that sort of work. - You're a classy twirler, I can see that, and you’re just : the fellow we need on our nine. How’d you phe to join the crowd?” “I’m a nice sort of a pieface to join your croird, ain’t ?P ?” jeered the tramp. ' “Do you smoke?” asked Frank. “No.” 7 “Do you drink?” _ “Nothin’ but what tomes out o’ the pump.” “Why don’t you drink and smoke, Joe? Tramps, as a rule, Aro not t.very careful to keep away from tobacco and If you was the real Chip, I’d show y’u how. shouldn’t be one of Merriwell’s Athletes.” “Tryin’ to save myself so’st to get in the big league some o these days.” “Are you square?” “Try to be. Never stole a thing in my life but rides on the choo-choo cars. Guess I mighty nigh pay for them, too, sometimes. Ridin’ the brake beams is rough work, Chip, ’specially when y’u ride clost to the engine and she’s’ drinkin’ from a water pan while scootin’ along at a sixty- mile clip. I like to got drownded once.” “Well,” went on Frank, “if you know how to take care — of yourself, and if you’re square, I don’t see why you ~ “Don’t feed me knock-out drops, Chip,” begged Joe. “I’m liable to fall for it, see? Then some o’ your dude amateurs would get funny .with me, and the fur would begin to fly. Look at my bringin’ up. I was kicked around Baltimore, and rope’s-ended on the oyster boats — until I pretty near forgot I was a human bein’. If I went into. your crowd, some One would say guttersnipe to me, and then—thei—well, I’d forget I was a gent and start in to spoil somebody’s mug. You wouldn’t want that.” “Our crowd is the right sort, Joe,’ said Frank, “and — if you proved you were the right sort, why, they'd take you in and make you one of us.” The brown*face of the tramp was fairly glowing with the joy aroused by Merry’s words. For a little while, ap- — parently, he allowed himself to dream. Then suddenly. his face fell, and he shook: his head. “I got to think it over, Chip,” he mumbled. “You're feelin’ easy now, on account o’ me findin’ you and settin’ you loose. Mebby your idees would change when you got to rubbin’ shifted the subject. “How you goin’ to beat out that mutt that played it so lowdown on you,” he asked, “and get into that Blyfield game? We're gettin farther and far- ther away from the home town ev'ry minute,” “l’ 1 got to get off at the next station and send a ee gram,” said Frank. “Then I must catch the first train back. How far do you think we are from Blyfield?” “Somethin’ less’n a hundred miles. This old caravan just loafs along, and hasn’t any rights of the track over a respectable wheelbarrow. At some stations she’s hung up for two hours, unloadin’ freight while the engine does — switchin’.. You’ve been a long time on the road to come- this far. What’s more——”’ : Baltimore Joe broke off suddenly, The train had nae to slow down for a stop. g “Your chance is comin’,”’said Joa “Just slip out quiet, when y’u go, and leave me here. I’m for the coast.” “Come along back to Blyfield with me,” urged Frank. “Not if I know. it, Chip. I ain’t your kind, and we couldn’t hook up like we ort to. I got a wrong start in life, and now I got to pay for it.” Merry stepped to the door and looked out through the few inches of space. The train had stopped at the top o: car and the one next ahead. For a few minutes Merry stood thinking—and his reflections were all concerned with Baltimore Joe. Abruptly, however, his reflections shot off at another angle. The box car had begun to move, sepa rated from the engine and the rest = the train. — Merry pushed the door farther open, leaned out, and logked back. Then he jumped rearward into the car again and whirled on Baltimore Joe with a white face. — ay elbows with a hobo on the diamond.” -He — NEW ’ CHAPTER VI. DANGEROUS WORK, “What's on your mind, Chip?” called Joe excitedly. ‘From Merry’s face and manner he knew that something was wrong. “We're running away down a steep grade!” Frank gasped, reaching fot the edge of the doot to support him- self against the pitching of the car. “When we get to the bottom o’ the grade we'll stop, won't we? All we gotta do is to. stick to the ship, cull!” “But the dynatnite car is behind us! Sttppose the cars jump the track, Joe? Suppose—~—” _ Baltimore Joe gave vent to a wild yell. “Suppose,” he cried, “we meet another train comiri’ up the gtade? Great skyrockets, Chip!) Our ofily charice is to jump fot the right o’ way.” - He darted for the door, pushed Merry aside, and flung the doot wide. Masses of sharp rock bordered the track- side, and the runaway cars wete reeling through them with steadily increasing speed. "Ts a long grade,’ shouted Frank, A fea” ; _ “If we go off the rails at one of the curves, struck in Joe, “it’s kingdom come for us. The idee of jumpin’, Chip, plits-a ctitnp into me for fair.” “Don’t try it, Joe! We'll do something else.” ( _ The two runaway cafs, at that moment, strtick 4 curve. Frank and Joe were hurled against the opposite side of the “empty” with stunning force. As they picked them- sélvés up, the wheel flanges screeched wildly and the -ldtching car seeted every moment on the point of plung- ing headlong from the roadbed. af “Oh, sister!” whooped the tramp frantically. “Beats he deuce a thing like this had to happen. The old box’ll be turnin’ cartwheels, next we know, and a few tons 0’. -blastin’ stuff’ll go off right on top o’ us!” _ Frank forgot his bruises. Summoning all his strength and energy, he zigzagged. his way toward the end of the car that was nearest the dangerous load behind. “Come on, Joe!” his sharp, authoritative voice rang out. ou’ve got to help. I want a lift toward that window.” Tn the end of the car, up next the roof, was an opening closed with a sliding door. This door was intended to be opened from the outside, and was supposed to be fastened with a hook. Frank, watching the door keenly, had come he conclusion that it was unfastened, for it seemed to. e slightly, with the swaying’ of the. car. “and full of ctirves. ” Help. ime up.” here was that. in Merry’s voice which, caused Joe to. ae $e he labored to keep his balatice. ak died himself by grasping the edge of the opening when is. groping hand. came near. enough, and the next moment va geing and prying at “the door with his swollen ay TIP TOP ‘this work of his had really been. WEEKLY... enough so he could get a good grip with one hand and force it back. The openitig was clear, and he had a dizzy glimpse of a flying landscape through it. Had he beer at all faint-hearted, that glimpse would have sickened him of the task he had set for himself; but young Merriwell was of stetner fiber, arid the dangers ahead only made him the more determined. With both, hands clutching the lower edge of the sqtiare hole, he drew himself clear of Joe’s shoulder by main ~ strength, and got into the opening with the upper half pte his body outside the car. The load of dynamite was rushing and bobbing fear- somely behind the “empty.” A fall between the two charg- ing cars would have written “finis” very quickly to Frank’s life stoty. But he was not thinking of that. With keen eyes and clear brain he was taking stock of his best means for getting to the tops of the cars. A brake rod ran up the end of the empty box car close to the outer edge of the window. That offered a hand-> hold, and Frank seized it and supported himself as he got his feet worked through the opening. Then, by stand- ing erect, he was able to grasp the brake wheel and so pull himself to the board walk on the car’s roof. Not till some time later did he realize how dangerous | The first step had been | successfully accomplished, and now he,was face to face with the next step—and it would make a demand on him ; forall his strength and skill, 4 Clinging to the brake wheel, and lurching back | anc i forth as the car swayed, he caught a moment’s view of the twisting descent below. Far off down the steep slope he saw a wisp of smoke, and his. heart leaped into Rit throat A train was climbing the long hill! If those Pr ats were not stopped, there would be a vee and the friountainside would be piled with ruin! Gritting his teeth, he threw himself back on the wheel the toe of ohe shoe pressing the lock of the ratchet as the wheel turned. Setting those brakes was as hard a job as Frank had ever attempted, but little by little he oe the shoes to the wheels. of its restive beanie behind, The brake shoes te a shrilly, like so many complaining demons, and the * ‘em ty swayed and jerked drunkenly. Frank, “and I’ve got to do st quick or, the whole will be in the ditch.” To get from one darting, lurching car root to the. other was the next feat he was called on to perform. Poi himself and watching his opportunity, he suddenly flung himself through the air and alighted in a sctamble on th toepath of the car behind. By a stroke of luck, he grabbi the edge of the board walk and so prevefited himself from being hurled from the car’s roof; then, on hands an knees, he crawled the Tenth of He, roof and reac other brake wheel. ts \ ‘The grade was flattening” out a little, and ; fcled himself energetically at the brakes, the two ® “aways rounded a curve E wpon, a short stretch of oe ; was. eon ae NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. ~ is ree power of the clinging brake shoes, its perilous influence on the car ahead slowly diminished. Both cars were now sliding onward at rapidly lessening pace; and, before an- other turn was made from the level stretch of rails to the descending grade, they came to a standstill. Frank, having accomplished the difficult task which he had set for himself, dropped down on the toepath, limp and almost exhausted. Again the pains in his swollen hands and arms manifested themselves, and every nerve and muscle in his body seemed in open rebellion. Below, the plume of smoke had thickened, and he could see an engine and a passenger coach climbing the grade. Both engineer and fireman were leaning far out of their cab windows, apparently startled by what they saw above them. _ A glance up the grade toward the summit of the hill re- vealed a distant locomotive dropping down the slope at considerable speed. This, undoubtedly, was the freight engine coming in pursuit of the runaways. “Ah, there, Chip!’ A head appeared in the gap between the two cars, and the head was quickly followed by a pair of shoulders and the slouching, unkempt figure of Baltimore Joe. The close- ‘set eyes of the young tramp were wide with wonder and’ admiration. “If there was any doubt in this headpiece o’ mine about your bein’ Chip Merriwell,” remarked Joe, as he came along the board walk, “I reckons this stunt you just pulled off would knock it gallywhoopin’. How you ever done it beats me. Say, cull, I was lookin’ for your remains to be scattered along the track. You're the guy, that put the get in get-there. It’s a mortal cinch, believe me, that but for you there'd have been blow-ups and smash-ups on this line till yu couldn’t rest.” “Maybe not so bad as that, Joe,” ; wearily. “Tust that bad!” insisted Joe. “You're the onliest chip in the workshop, and,the way I didn’t help y’u would have brought tears te: a pair 0’ glass eyes.” “You did help me.” “Did 1? Then I must have done it in my ‘sleep. I rang off when I saw you climbin’ through the ventilator hole, with that ‘empty’ buckin’ like a wild broncho. I says to myself, “Chip, you’re a goner,’ and I thought ev’ry minute was goin’ to be my next, and that I’d be a goner, too. Listen, while I tell y’u like these: I’m a slob in a pinch. 3 That’s the diff’rerice between bein’ a no-account mongrel ‘ and a live thoroughbred. For five years I been travelin’ in freight cars. Some cars have got them little ventilator ‘windows and some haven’t, but did I think o’ crawlin’ out by the hole next the roof and clampin’ down the brakes? Not so’s y’u could see it with the naked eye. Oh, no, not at all. I left that to you, and you done it.” “You helped me out of the window.” h answered Frank “Sure, after you'd cracked the whip, and’ I had to. Know how y’u spoke to me then? It was like the snap of a blacksnake, and I’d ’a’, walked lame, played dead, or laid down and rolled over if you’d just give’ the word. You're one o’ the fightin’ kind, Chip, and ort to be a gen- “eral. But, listen: Ain’t it the limit that a thing o’ this kind had to be piled onto you, after all y’u been through? I don’t suppose a piece of a train breaks loose at the top that grade once a year, but it had to happen just as you , : was gettin’ ready to drop from the ‘empty’ and fire a tele- gram into ‘Biyfield. That’s how things’ll go when a Jonah spell gets up and humps itself for yu. Chee! Say, en- gines is comin’ at us from both directions. I’ll bet the pin is pulled on somebody for this! That train from down the grade is a short one—just an engine and one varnished car. Looks to me like a special.” The train from below had come feeling its way slowly up the grade. The engineer and fireman still had their heads thrust far out from the cab windows, and there was a colored man looking out from a window of the coach. As Frank stared, the door of the coach opened and a short, fat man showed himself. He was puffing a cigar, and was almost lost in a cloud of smoke. The train halted. The fat man waddled down the steps and dropped into the right of way. The two from the en- gine were already on the ground. A gingery give and take of words passed between the fat man and the engine crew, and then all three made their way to the “empty” and the car of dynamite. “What're you kids doing up there?” wheezed the fat man, staring at Frank and Joe. “Enjoyin’ the scenery,” answered Joe. ““Who stopped those two cars?” * “Not me, mister. That was Chip Merriwell’s game o’ muggins. Get down, Chip,” Joe added to Merry; “it’s the boss o’ the road, and he’s waitin’ to give y’u a medal.” CHAPTER VII. HOW THE ACCIDENT HAPPENED. Merriwell had already guessed that the fat man, with his air of authority, was in some manner connected with the railroad, but he was not expecting a medal for putting the brakes on two runaway cars. All he wanted in the world, at that moment, was a chance to send a telegram to Blyfield, and then another chance to follow the telegram in person, and as swiftly as he could. i Seeing very clearly that the fat man wanted to question him at closer quarters, Merry got over the end of the dynamite car and descended the iron ladder to the ground. Just as he dropped off the ladder, the fat man turned from an inspection of the tag on the car door. “Well, by gad!” he puffed. “One of these two cars is loaded with giant powder! Fine kettle of fish, I must — _ say! What was that freight crew, up there, thinking © about, to let such a load get away from them on the down- grade? By Jerry, I'll get to the bottom of this!” _He whirled on Frank, his little eyes glimmering. “What do you know about it, young fellow?” he de- manded. “About what, sir?” asked Frank. : “Why, about the way those two cars got loose ot tipped over the grade down the mountain,” was the impa-— tient answer. es “I can’t tell you a thing about that.” Ye The fat man stared incredulously. $55, “How in the name of all the fiends could you jump in and stop the cars if you didn’t know how they broke away?” he asked. 3 “That’s easy, sir. My’ friend and I were inside the flewe car, there, the ‘empty,’ when they pitched off down the grade.” The fat man studied Merry for a moment, icadseastias his double chin thoughtfully as he did so. From Merry, his glance passed to Baltimore Joe, who ae likewise come down the car ladder. 12 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. “Hobos, eh?” the fat man-grunted. “You were steal- ing a ride in the ‘empty’? Is that it? One of you don't look much like a tramp,” “And one-of ys ain't,” piped Joe; “and that one is the other guy, not me.” “Well, who are you?” queried the fat man impatiently. “Young Frank Merriwell is his monaker. He’s the guy as saved your road a batch of rolling stock, and maybe kept you from tangling up with a smash and an explo- Rion, . He~—” “Frank Merriwell?” repeated the man from the special. “Why, I saw him pitch once, several years ago. Great game, by gad! I always did have a weakness for a ball game. But you can’t be that Frank Merriwell,” he added, his sharp eyes on Frank, “you’re not old enough.” — “He’s Frank Merriwell, junior,” explained Baltimore Joe, “and he’s the son of his dad, all right.” The fat man smiled, and pushed out his hand. “My name’s Tucker, Merriwell,” said he. “I’m the superintendent of this division, and was just going over some of the track in my private car. If my special had come head on into those runaways, it’s a safe bet that, by now, the wrecking crew would have been headed this way. How did you happen to be in that freight car?” “T was put there by a fellow who wanted to keep me out of a game that’s to be played at Blyfield this afternoon,” Frank answered. “Eh?” wheezed Tucker, startled. Frank repeated his words, and the superintendent looked puzzled and skeptical. “It’s hard for me to understand that,” he remarked. “Why should you be put into an empty freight car by a fellow who wanted to keep you out of.a ball game? If it comes to that, why should he want to keep you out of a ball game, anyhow ?” “Oh, chee!” struck in Joe disgustedly. “Y’u may be the big high boy o’ this division, Mr. Tucker, but you’re slow with the headwork.” The engineer from the locomotive turned around and be- gan looking at the, scenery. So did his fireman, The ° shoulders of both heaved convulsively. “Is that so?” snapped the division boss, stabbing Joe with his cold blue eyes. “Sure it’s so,” returned Joe, serene and unmoved. “This Merriwell kid is some pitcher, and the guy wanted him out o’ the game so the other team—the team the guy was backin’, see—could win. So what does he do but lay for Merry with two strong-arm geezers, rope and gag him, and roll him into the ‘empty’ in the Blyfield yards, This was after eight last night. One o’ your locals, that tears up the track at the rate of a mile every fifteen minutes, pulled into Blyfield and picked up the car. Get that? Merriwell traveled all night and half o’ to-day, then [ opened the door 6’ his hang-out and ctawled in for a lift on my way to the coast. I let him loose, see? And he was just going to get out, at the station at the top of this grade, when our car and the one behind broke loose. “Say, the accident put me all to the woozy-woo. All the thinks in my bean got to rattling like the little squares in a dice box, and I started right in to become a figger- head and let Merriwell do the heft o’ the thinkin’, and all the work. Well, he’ made good at it. With them two cats gallopin’ down the track like mad, he climbed out the end openin’ of our car, got to the roofs, and- set the brakes. That’s what he did; and, if he hadn’t, you and scene. your special would be runnin’ through the cloud banks right this minute. As I said. before, it was Merrrwell’s game 0’ muggins, and | didn’t have even a look-in.” This lengthy statement by Joe had been listened to at- tentively by the division superintendent. But the super- intendent had no chance to make any comments on the tramp’s statement, for, just as the tramp finished, the engine crew from the other locomotive had reached the The second fireman and engineer were accom- panied by the conductor of the freight train and one of the brakemen. This little party from up the grade gave unmistakable signs of uneasiness. The division boss was right on the ground, and he probably appreciated the situation fully, inasmuch as he had come within a hair’s breadth of being involved in the calamity. “What have you men got to say about this?” demanded Tucker sternly. “None o’ my funeral, Mr. Tucker,” said the engineer. “Carter broke the train in front of the empty “box’ so’s we could set out a load of household goods on the siding. We'd not much, more than cleared the main lead before the runaways came past. That’s all I know about it.” “What’s your excuse, Carter?” went on the superin- tendent, turning to the conductor of the freight. “We got orders, at the top of the grade, to hold the siding for your special to come through, and s “The special was nearly due. Why did you! cut the train afid begin switching until the special had passed?” “T thought we had time to set out the car of furniture.” “You took chances; and, while you were taking chances, Carter, part of the train stood on the main track, at the edge of the grade, with no blocking.” : “The brakes were set,” insisted Carter. “Not on the ‘empty’ and the car of dynamite,” flashed Tucker. “This lad, here,” and he indicated Frank, “hap- pened to be in the ‘empty.’ He crawled out of the car to the toepath, and, at the risk of his life, set the brakes. You’ve got him to thank, Carter, that a bad wreck isn’t the result of your carelessness. When you finish your run, you'll take about thirty days off for this. Maybe I ought to ditch you, but I guess you'll profit by the lesson. How did the coupling come loose behind the dynamite load?” “T'll be hanged if I know,” answered the conductor. “Must have been a faulty coupling,” “Do you know, Sanders?” asked Tucker, turning to the brakeman. “We had a car to set out directly back of the high ex- plosive,” answered Sanders nervously. “Your special was about due, and, in order to hurry things, I pulled the pin to make ready for the rest of the switching.” | “Oh, you did! You'd better study your book of rules a little more carefully. I'll give you thirty days to get it by heart. Now, then,” and the businesslike super turned to the engine crew of the freight, “hook onto those two cars and pull them back to the top of the grade. We're in a hurry to get to the station and send some tele- grams.” “You boys,” went on the division superintendent, “will come along with me. There’s plenty of room in my car, . Metriwell, and I want to. talk with you a little further,’ “T can go back in the ‘empty,’” demurred Joe, Merry grabbed him by the arm. : “You come along with me, Joe,” he said. en par ni a NEW TIP TOP “There ain’t no kickin’ over the traces, Chip,” remarked the tramp, “when y’u come at me in that tone o’ voice.’ The two lads followed Tucker to his private car, climbed to the platform, and were ushered inside. A darky in uni- form pushed out chairs for the visitors, and, at a word ‘from the superintendent, brought a box of cigars. The box was offered to the boys, but, of course, they refused. “That’s what I like to see,’ puffed Tucker, helping him- self to one of the weeds and firing up. “I’m not an ath- lete, so it doesn’t make any difference how much tobacco I burn. Now, Merriwell,” he added, settling back com- fortably in his chair, “I want you to go into details of what happened to you. I’ll bet the story is. interesting, and I want the whole of it.” Frank went exhaustively into his dealings with Lucius Lattimer for a second time that day. He told of the . crooked contests the Athletes had had to face, and how they had met trickery with clean sport, and, up to that time, had won out. Tuctker’s little eyes glowed as he lis- tened, and his flabby cheeks flushed with excitement. - Then Frank came down to the particular affair that _ had landed him, bound and gagged, in the empty box car in the Blyfield yards. Tucker brought a Saree fist down on the arm of his chair. “T’'d like to see that scoundrel, Lattimer, placed ‘behind the bars, where he belongs!” he exclaimed. “He’s a black- guard, and the law ought to step. in and show him a few things.” _. While the talk in the private car had been proceeding, - the track ahead had been cleared, and the super’s special had got under way and climbed to the top of the grade. As the short train came to a halt in front of the station, Tucker scrambled to his feet. , ~ “Come on, Chip!” he called. here. and get a message on the wires to Rufus Horton. Ty write the. message, and you can O. K. it and shoot it through.’ Having the super write the message struck Frank. as mewhat unnecessary, but he and Joe followed the official ‘out of the car and into the little railroad station, resolved Oo let Mr. Tucker haye his way. CHAPTER VIIL MERRIWELL’S SPECIAL, The message the division superintendent wrote, at the perator’s window in the station, filled Merriwell with “How “I can’t understand this,” said he, bewildered. m I going to get to Blyfield, Mr. Tucker? What do you : nean by referring to’‘Merriwell’s special’ ?” mean just what - say, Chip,” said the fat man, kling. | Where the mischief am I going to get . a ‘special train - carry me to Blyfield P? ook here, my. lad, what do you think Gp this railroad, deh Do you think we’ Te so blooming ungrateful that By gad! you child have a deen specials, if you . ’em. Tm offering my private car for your accom- I'd like to see that ball game myself. But your special, Chip, and I’m just going along” Jake me uP, ragga Deas Baltimore Bes ri lingered at his’ side and watched him. “You've got to pile out » WEEKLY. “It’s mighty good of you, Mr. Tucker," faltered Frank, his eyes shining. “Not at all, not at all,” was the brisk rejoinder. “Merely a case of this road helping somebody who has helped us. After you get that on the wires, Chip, I’m going to get into communication with our dispatcher, and see that he gives us the right of way over everything. We're going over the rails for a record, son, and we'll have a couple of freight cars hooked in between our engine and my private coach to sort of ballast us and hold us down.” “T’d like to make a few changes in this message, sit,” Frank went on. “There are a few things I want to say about the game——” “And a few things he wants to cut out about himself,” added Joe. “You handed him too many bouquets, super.” “All right, all right; fix it up,’ returned Tucker. “Meanwhile, [’ll get busy with the dispatcher.” While Merry was recasting the message, Baltimore Joe “Tt’s a quarter to ont,” Frank observed, “and the special. will never get me back to Blyfield in time to play in that game. We'll get there before the game is over, I guess, so we can see the finish of it.” “Tough luck,” muttered Joe. “This message, though,” Frank went on, “ought to be | delivered a little after one. If the fellows know I’m all right, and on the way, it ought to smooth out their nerves and enable them to play good ball.” The message, as finally handed to the operator, tan as s follows: i “RuFus Horton, Blyfield: Foul play. Lattimer and Bre- — zee waylaid me, last night, loaded me into freight car, and sent me West. Rest of.the Pirates had nothing to do with it. They. didn’t even know what was going on. make this too strong. cial’- Call game at three-thirty as advertised. box, and tell boys to play Pirates off — MERRIWELL..” Put Hop in pitcher’s their feet. Baltimore Joe, reading this message as Merry wrote it, | objected. “Chee!” he grumbled. stoppin’ the runaway freight cars! super said about yu.’ “That’s. not important, Joe,” returned Frank. “°’Fraid there’ll be too many words in the message? Why, the super’s goin’ to deadhead it through.” : “That isn’t the point. I’ve said all that’s necessary.” Tucker turned away from the operator's window and came over to Frank. “Give me that message, Chip,” said he. . Frank passed it over and the pher witendret read it through. ‘ — “You’ re too blame’ tiodeatt he Hinged: but re 4 tone that showed no displeasure. “We'll let that go, how: ever, for you've hit off the main points. Ina few minutes, the train sheet will be cleared for us, and your special will go rushing through the division like ‘a singed cat. “You ain’t put in a thing aa is You left out all the | I wish you'd asked Horton to delay the game for half an hour. We'd be there in time to see the opening of the festivities, if you had. Maybe \ve will, anyway. But tam didn’t you ask 8 the delay? pe? Can’t . ‘Am returning to Blyfield on a spe- — If ’m not — there before you begin, will arrive before you're through. — NEW said Frank. “I want Lattimer and the Pirates to under- stand that the Athletes can win without their captain, if they have to. I’m not so darned necessary as Lattimer thinks.” : “Oh, fudge!” chirped Baltimore Joe. “You're the main squeeze, Chip, and if it wasn’t for you——” “Rot!” grunted Merry, flushing. Tucker turned away with a wheezy laugh, and went ‘back to the operator’s window. “Wish I could see the wind-up of that game,” Baltimore Joe wistfully. “What's biting you?” demanded Merry. to see it.” “T am—nit. Here’s my chance to stick Fatty for a trip to the coast. The old boy will give me transporta- tion, if I bat it up to him while he’s in his present mood.” persisted Frank. said “You're not going to the coast,” “You're going to Blyfield with me and join our squad of | Athletes.” | “The more I think it over, Chip,” demurred Joe, “the more I think it ain’t my proper caper. I wasn’t raised right, I don’t talk right, and I’ll bet a peck o’ samoleons I wouldn’t act right. Nay, cull, don’t try to push me.” “You’re a good fellow, Joe, and the team needs you.” “Nix on the gum-drop talk, Chip. I’m no parlor ball tosser, and if your crowd saw me and heard my talk, they’d be liable to scream and throw a faint.” Frank laughed. oa “You've got us sized up wrong, Joe,” said he earnestly. “All our fellows will want to know is that you're square. I know you are, but they won’t have to take my word —they’ll find out for themselves.” “Tf all that bunch was like you-—” “They are, only more so,” broke in Frank, with a smile. “You’re bound I’ll go, eh?” Pecttae eas : “And y’u won't blame me if I don’t make a hit with the - gang?” “You'll make a hit, all right.” “Tf that’s how yu feel about it, Chip, I’ll run down to _ Blyfield and look the bunch’over. If I think we can trot ‘in double harness, maybe I’ll join your crowd—providin’, 0’ course, I make good.” ~ “Bully!” exclaimed Frank. ‘ Joe—" a _ Just then, and before Frank could finish what he was saying, the engineer of the speetal thrust his head in ~~ ‘the door. _ “Waiting, Mr. Tncker,” he ied ' “Here, Sam,” said the superintendent, leaving the opera- _ tor’s window with a bit of tissue. “Here are your orders. Clear track to Blyfield, and hit ’er up. We want to get there by three-thirty.” K _ Sam shook his head. and looked dubious. “T’ve got to play safe,” he answered. “You don’t wey to go in the ditch.” ‘Do the best you can, eth That'll be good enough “That’s settled. N ow, He farned to face Frank and Joe. “AIL aboard, Chip!” he added. Id is eee to mere ie “The oe to us “You're going ~ mured Joe. ‘TIP TOP WEEKLY. bunkers and’ tank were full, and the engine was ready ta take them over the line for a record. As they pulled out of the station, Tucker placed his chair so he could keep one eye on the speed recorder. East of that stiff grade where Frank had distinguished himself by halting the runaways, there were many miles of good, level track. Sam, in the cab, opened the throttle notch by notch, and the way the special picked up speed was a caution. “Wow!” breathed Baltimore Joe, hanging to his chair. “Talk about scared coyotes makin’ for home and mother— | talk about streaks o’ greased lightnin’—talk about. aéro-— planes and mile-a-minute flyers—say, we're all them and more! Telefraphpoles look like teeth Field o’ corn and a field o’ beans, one after the other. We're goin’ so fast, by chee, they look like succotash! Oh, doctor! Say, super, d’you think it’s necessary to keep up this clip? I ain’t used to it.” 4 Tucker laughed. “Why,” he returned, “we’re doing a little less than fifty miles an hour. That oughtn’t to alarm you, Joe. We ought to expect big things from Merriwell’s special, hadn’t we?” “We're gettin’ ’em. that message o’ Chip’s to Blyfield. some.” Truth to tell, they were slamming along at a speed that promised to get them to their destination in plenty Wis. time for the game. “This is a good bit of track through here,” explained de superintendent, “and Sam has to gain all the time he can because he has a slow order for bits of the road farther along. If we can reach Blyfield before three-thirty, we’re going to soe it. If it isn’t possible, we'll get there as soon as we can.’ “Hope we don’t get ited by a hot box,” Joe.. In this, however, he had vaguely hinted of something that really happened. One of the freight cars dev eloped | a hot box, and there had to be a delay while the car was set out of the special at a station. Rigen “There’s ten minutes knocked off our schedule,” bled Tucker. ee At three-thirty the special was still well to the west of Blyfield. “Game’s called,” announced Frank chivaeiely eeu , WT can -see the fellows going out on the field and the Pirates coming to bat. Hop is putting his three preliminary balls over, and I can almost hear them spanking into Penny- worth’s mitt. Lafe Needham is the first man up. —— der if Hop strikes him out?” “Is Hop a chink?” inquired Joe. _ “Yes,” said Frank, “only don’t call -him that. — siders it a mortal insult to be called a chink.” “Guess I’m as good as any oe fe mur “Can he pitch?” * “You bet he can, Joe!” “Well, is he going to fan the first man up?” | “Wish I knew,” answered’ Frank Seay, “He co “Also, T That’s the only point that bothers ¢ me.” =, while the special sped on at top spec a Mer 3 in a comb! muttered | If we keep this up, we'll beat x I guess we’re goin’ . ba NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. oe 16 scape flying past the windows of the private car, and wondered how matters were progressing on the acadeniiy diamond. He was soon to know. CHAPTER IX. THE EXCITEMENT IN BLYFIELD. It was ten o’clock Friday evening when Owen Clancy left the hotel to look for Merriwell. He traveled up and down the length of the main street, and he put questions to every one he could see, but he neither found his missing ; chtim nor met any one who could give the slightest in- _ formation about him. _ With a hope that Frank might have returned to the hotel while he had been out hunting for him, the troubled - Clancy set his face once more toward the Borden House. When he reached headquarters his faint hopes were dashed. Merriwell had not returned. -“There’s a chance,” thought Clancy, “that he went over ‘to Horton’s, and is having a talk with him. Something unexpected may have come up that called for an inter- - view with Horton. I'll mighty soon find out.” _ Proceeding to the phone, Clancy rang up Horton's house. Mose, the old darky servant, answered the call. Marse - Rufus was in’bed, Mose reported, and he didn’t want to wake him up unless it was absolutely necessary. “Wake him!” cried Claticy. “Of course it’s necessary, Mose, or I wouldn’t put in a call at this time of night. In a few minutes, Horton’s voice came over the wire, asking what was the matter. _“Chip’s disappeared,”. was Claricy’s startling anhounce- ; ‘tnents: . “Disappeared?” echoed Horton. “Yes—-dropped out of sight, mysteriously vanished» A kid brotight him a note, about eight in the evening, and Chip read it and started along Main Street toward the river. He didn’t tell me what ‘was it the note, but he said he would put me wise when he came back. Further- more, ‘Rufus, he told me he’d be back in half an hour, or n hour at the outside. That was two. hours and a half ‘o. ‘Something’s gone wrong, and you can bank on it.” “Don’t lose your nerve, Clancy. We both know that Chip is a mighty good hand at taking care ‘of himself. “Pll be over to the hotel as soon as I, can get into my Horton presented himself at the Borden bua in less than half an hour. He found Clancy nervously pacing the e, tremendously wrought up and imagining a host of things. + Chip didn’t say a word about where he was going?” ed Horton. “Not a word.” “Who brought the note? If we could find ‘that boy=—” t wouldn’t do us a patticle of good. Chip asked the who gave him the note, and he said he dide'e" Rao he fellow was a stranger.” ee “Stranger, eh? — Well, that’s something.” aoa “It doesn’t give us a line on anything,” complained yy leaves us tight up in the air.” . Sor ething of importance to the team may have de- oped,” suggested Horton, “and Chip may have found to delay his return to the hotel I have all in the, world in Chip’s. ability to take care — wen, ih s Wait for. him to ce at: Gh I’m going back home. back of it. “There’s some kind of a plot being worked,” asserted Clancy darkly, “and I’ bet Chip is the victim of it.” “Plot? Why, Clancy, Chip hasn’t an Sey. anywhere in this part of the country.’ “You're forgetting Lattimer and Brezee.” “Well, they may be enemies of Chip’s, but they're not around here.” “That’s a guess, Rufus. You don’t know positively.” This suggestion of the red-headed chap’s gave Horton a little food for thought. Nevertheless, the Yale tan could not bring himself to take Chip’s absence very se- ridusly. “Even Lattimer and Brezee,” he returned, “wotld stop short of doing Chip any physical injury. It’s Merri- well’s athletic prowess that has proved sour grapes for the Trawlee schemer and his right-hand man.” “Don’t forget what happened to Dart Keenan,” Clancy. “Nothing very serious happened to him. It was high- handed and lawless, I admit, but the aim of Lattime?, in” Keenan’s case, was to cripple us so we'd lose the mile run.” f “If they’d wofk such a scheme on Keenan,” Clancy, “they’d do the same with Chip.” _ “You're guessing, Clancy, and your good judgmerit is said persisted clouded by a lot of foolish worry. Let this matter rest Like =.“ for a few hours. Go to bed and. get some sleep. ; enough Merry will drop in before long, and you'll find — _ that you’ve had your worry all for nothing.” “Couldn’t sleep if I wetit to bed,” answeted Clancy, al-— though he was conscious of a more hopeful. feéling in the face of Hortton’s own confidence in the outcome. “Whatever you do, Owen,” said Horton earnestly, get the boys to worfying. If they get agitated and nery- : ous, thete’ll be ragged playing to-mortow.” “What the mischief do I care about a dinky litt e ball game if Chip’s in danger?” blurted out Clancy. Horton laughed reassuringly and patted his shoulder: “He’s not in any physical danger, my lad,’ said he. “Don’t think that for a minute. If he’s delayed somew here and fot some unknown reason, his first wish would be for the team to keep cool and go on with that game If Chip doesn’t show up by morn: ing, we'll begin looking for him. He wouldn't like to have us turn the town upside down when, as it may ‘be ; he’s utiexpectedly busy with: something or other of ee tance to the Athletes.” “T guess that’s right, Rufus,” admitted Gisney, “pit try and be easy for a while, but I’ve got a hunch that Chip. has run into a streak of hard luck, and that Lattimer is We were just talking about that when the kid brought the note that called Chip off down the street Maybe I’m worked up more than the occasion calls for, and I’ll try and quiet down.” , a “I'll go home,” said Horton, “and, i¢ Chip cothes in, I feel pretty sure he will, you get me on the ne report.” i With that, Horton left the hotel aoe Cuter wen “up: stairs. He did not undress, but kicked off his fe threw himself down, on the bed. sea _ He and Merty occupied the same room, and. if. came’ in Clancy would surely hear him. For a ‘ke Clancy remained awake, but, at. last,. he atop es in - of his anxiety. MOH Tt & ces 16 ae It was broad daylight when he awoke, and he inut- tered angrily under his breath and leaped off the bed. Merriwell- was, not in the room. His bed, which stood close to Clancy’s, had not been. occupied. Inside of five minutes, the red-headed chap was down- stairs, ringing up Horton. The report that Chip was still missing must have made a decided impression on the Yale man, judging from the exclamation that came from the other end of the line. “Well, don’t worry any more than you have to, Owen,” advised Horton. “I’ll be over there as soon as I am through with my breakfast, and we’ll see what we can do.” As the Athletes trailed down from their rooms for their morning meal at the “training table,” one by one they became apprised of the situation. It had a tremen- dous effect on all of them. “Lattimer is back of it,” declared Dart Keenan, between his teeth. “Tf he is,” scowled Pennyworth, “I'll camp on his trail and see that he pays for his scheming.” “Tell us where he is,” cried Rodno, “and we'll all camp on his trail.” “Yes,” added John Glory, with spirit, “and teach him a lesson he'll never forget. Something ought to be done with that tinhorn.” “Maype,” remarked Villum Kess, “I go oudt und make some tedectiff pitzness. I bed you. someding for nodding I findt me vere Chip iss.” “Plenty bad pidgin!” grunted Hop Wah. It makee go along with Dutchy boy, huh! ¢ “You fellows will stay right here,” spoke up Clancy, “until we can have a talk with Horton. He'll advise us _ what to do.” _ Not much breakfast was eaten, that morning, by the squad of athletes, The excitement among them grew, the more the mysterious absence of Merriwell was discussed. _ The nerves of all were in a most unstable condition when, breakfast over, ney met Rufus Horton in the hotel of- fice. “First off, ” said the Yale man, peering about him and noting the evidences of excitement, “I want all of ydu boys to calm down. I am sure there is nothing very serious _ about Chip’s disappearance—I can’t think that, I have asked the authorities to take the matter in hand, in a quiet “Maybeso, way, and see if they can get any track of him. That is all that is necessary. Meanwhile, there is nothing for the rest of you to do. Stay here at the hotel until time to go to the ball ground; and I can almost promise you that, before then, we'll hear something favorable. Don’t be alarmed, that’s all.” ” “The Pirates may be back of this,” suggested Dart Kee- nan. “If they are, I’ll be hanged if I play them.” “Same here,” echoed Pennyworth. _A chorus of voices took up the same sentiment,’ and, once more, ‘mutiny seemed rife in the ranks. _ “Boys,” said Horton patiently, “don’t make any wild _ guesses about the Pirates. It isn’t possible they have had anything to do with what has happened to Merri- ~ well. If I really thought that, I should be the last one to ask. you to meet them on the diamond. Don’t let your ‘ excitement tun away with you.” He left the hotel, and the nervous athletes continued — to talk and to bewail their inactivity. It seemed to them RE though they ought to be busy, and each doing what- ever he ais to solve the mystery of peeks anes. kW ‘TTP TOP WEERLY. Dinner time came, and the moody Clancy marched the lads into the dining room. There was not much talk at table, for the lads were too much taken up with their apprehensions about Chip. Following the noon meal they ° were all in the office waiting glumly for the time: when they were to go to the ball field, At one-thirty, Horton © arrived. He was smiling happily, and held a yellow slip in his hand. “Telegram, boys,” he called, “and it’s from Chip. I felt sure we'd get word from him, if he failed to show up. Listen !” The excitement was intense at that moment, and each boy almost held his breath while the message from Chip was read aloud. The tension snapped, when the reading was done, and the big room fairly buzzed with talk. “Chip’s all right,” said Clancy, “and that’s the principal thing. But Lattimer and Brezee were back of his dis- appearance, just as I thought.” “But the Pirates, as he distinctly says, had nothing to do with it,” remarked Horton. “Glad to hear that,’ spoke up Keenan. “Chip’s coming on a special. What the deuce do you make of that, eh?” “We'll know when he gets here,” returned Clancy, with a light-hearted laugh. “We’re all feeling a whole lot bet- ter than we did a few minutes ago. What?” CHAPTER X. A POOR SHOWING. ‘Lhe ddacters chinked merrily into the till at the, big gate S leading to the Blyfield Academy athletic ground. ‘Such an i outpouring of people had never been seen before, in that | particular place. Even the first ball game with the Pirates, which had aroused a tremendous amount of interest, had — failed to call forth the crowd that assembled to witness — that “benefit” match. EDN It was known that Merriwell’s Athletes were tying! | POLS help their old rivals to pay their expenses in Trawlee and — their railroad fare’ back to their homes, and that they were | doing this because Lattimer had absconded and left his team on the rocks. This generous spirit on the part of the _ Athletes had aroused a like spirit among the townspeople, 4 and all Blyfield was anxious to do the utmost to help. - Besides, those who loved the national game “were as- sured of seeing a splendid contest. And keen, clean rivalry on the diamond was a big drawing card in itself.~ Then, too, it had been whispered about that Merriwell, the captain of the Athletes, had been foully dealt with He had been spirited away somewhere, and his team migh be compelled to fight without his guiding hands at the rei or his masterly pitching to help on to victory. ey Merriwell,it is not too much to say, was the idol of the whole town. Every one regretted to hear that he had fallen a victim to Lattimer, just as every one rejoiced in the knowledge that he was safe, and speeding towar Blyfield by special train. But he might not teach town in time for the game, and there was curiosity to see how: the team wotild conduct itself without Chip, the brightest athletic star, to inspire and give his aid, a Long before the hour of three-thirty every available ent! in the grand-stand and on the bleachers had been ooeu pied, and a swarm of people had spread out around the field. The Pirates had been given a loyal greeting y they appeared on the diamond and began warming “pe ‘NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY: a 1 a tremendous ovation welcomed the Athletes when they - trotted to the field from their dressing rooms in the acad- -emy gym. : cm Clancy was the captain, pro tem. After he had set Hop _ Wah to limbering up his wing at one side of the diamond, the red-headed chap drew apart for a few words with Horton. “Sinkers isn’t going to pitch,” said Horton. “That tip _ was wrong. He’s at short, as usual.” “What battery are we up against?” queried Clancy, his homely face full of trouble. “Satterlee and Plainwell.” “Who the dickens is Satterlee? He’s a new one.” “Yes, and he’s class A. Watch his work over there. Lattimer was probably holding Satterlee in reserve. To my notion, Owen, Satterlee is better than Brezee.” Clancy, for a few moments, watched the pitcher for the rival nine. The fellow was tall and lanky, but he was certainly the goods. Plainwell caught him finely, and the two formed a battery that would cause Hop Wah and _ Pennyworth to go their limit. “I wish to thunder Chip was here!” murmured Clancy. _ “He may be here any minute,” returned Horton. “My _car-is-at the station, and the instant his special arrives he'll be snaked tight over to the grounds.” “Send him a wireless, Horton, to push on the reins.” _ A whistle blew and the Pirates came in from practice, and the Athletes spread over the field. Hop Wah was doing well, but deep down in his heart smoldered a great _ disappointment, He wanted to take Sinkers’ scalp. to even up. for losing the hurdle. race, and of this there. was no chance. ; Was it this that played upon are nerves and icaed - him to! give Needham a hit, to fumble a sacrifice by Bill _ Trott and to walk the redoubtable Sinkers who was third _man up for the Pirates? It is hard to tell what got into the Celestial. He straightened out! a little, however, after Sinkers had gone down on balls, and struck out Joe Trimble. Oscar Daly, who followed Trimble, knocked out a fly into the hands of John Glory; and then Flick Hedges fanned. But Hop Wah was a little late with his good work, ‘or both Needham and Trott crossed the plate, and Sinkers came within an ace of landing a score. With some pidation, Clancy waited to see what Satterlee was going to do. Well, what Satterlee did he did quickly. Rodno and nn, the first two at bat for the Athletes, went down be- e the niighty Satterlee in one-two order. Each of em, both with a high batting average, thrashed the air ith his stick, and retired disgusted and bewildered. ancy, third in the batting order, got to the horse- for a single; but Billy Dill, who followed him,’ beat 1¢ atmosphere three times hand ene, and psi! died ‘Where's Chip, ‘Mages it?” faacttea Ginter to himself, he went from second to his posifion at first. “Hop’s o-day, eee and this Satterlee is putting it. al ‘The first half of the ae was a eae tes Buck [cGinn got in the way of the second ball Hop pitched, i went to first with a grin and a make-believe Hop, in his distress, could be heard saying things nese; and then he must have pitched in Chinese, | ‘beat Trott. for he walked Plainwell. But he woke up when Satterlee, who was at the tail of the batting list, faced him at the plate. Satterlee slammed at-the ball three times, with all the power of a government six in a mud hole, but he hit nothing at all substantial. “His pitching is all to the mustard,’ thought Clancy, “but his stick work is the poorest ever. That’s some- thing, anyhow.” By then the batting had come around to Needham again. This time he tried so hard for a hit that he struck out. Bill Trott knocked a grounder into the hands of Dill at short, and Dil! got the sphere over to Clancy in time to But McGinn went home before the third out, and another tally landed on the scoreboard. In the second half of the second, John Glory aroused hope by getting a hit. Then Hop Wah added to the rising enthusiasm by taking first on a sacrifice bunt. Things were brightening up all along the line. Coddington went down, a victim of Satterlee’s elusive curves, and Villum Kess, who had fire in his eye and de- clared he would bring in Glory and Hop, met disaster in a way that seemed to stupefy him. Immediately afterward, Hop was caught napping at second, and was declared out by the umpire.. Then there was more Chinese, and Hop had to. be helped to the middle of the diamond. ’ Clancy went over and spoke to Hop. He did it tact- fully, but the ween os was wild-eyed and Jess of Sinkers. “Maybeso Sinkels pitchee ball, huh?” he chattered. “You're pitching against Satterlee, Hop, not Sinkers. I guess there won’t be any change so long as Satterlee keeps - on as he’s doing. Take your signals from Penn, old man, and get control. Stop walking those Pirates. You can do it if you try.” Sinkers was again facing Hop. The Celestial’s eyes flashed, and he kissed the ball, and asked it to do igh for him. x ‘This time Sinkers reached the leather for a pop-up, and | Hop got under it, took it in, and again pressed his lips to its rounded side. He was so happy over the fate of Sinkers that he gave Trimble a safe hit. Then he fanned Daly, Trimble got home by a scratch, and Villum Kess redeemed himself by bagging a fly Mit retired Flick Hedges and the side. But the score was four to get some, in favor of the Pirates, and Clancy was listening for the honk of Hor- © ton’s car and looking three ways for Merriwell. He looked — and listened in vain, however. ; Keenan took a safe hit from Satterlee,’ in the last half just to start things, and Rodno, just as he had done before, failed to help either Keenan or himself. He threw _ down his bat savagely arfd marched to the bench. : “No savvy that gangle-legged ball tosser,” he growled. “That’s twice right in the same place, and it hurts.” “Never mind, Rod,” said Clancy. “The es ee y et. ” 4 ; 5 Rod had couiek of a sort, in his misery, for Pansiyes worth also fanned. Keenan had reached third, and the coacher was trying desperately to get him in. He tried’ to steal on a passed ball, but Satterlee | ran to the ey and had him a mile. The fourth, fifth, and sixth went by with nahine achigs on either side, ‘Hop was not nearly so good as Satterlee, but his support was brilliant, and the goose eggs mana d. to nestle on _ both Hack =e the scoreboard. ; < ec BN apn | Pirates. NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. And then, just as the Athletes wéete moving into the field for the first half of ‘the severith, a ringitig cheer came from tlie grand staid, and was taken up by all the spectators arotind the field. ‘Merriwell had arrived! He was accotnpanied by a fat man, who was mopping the petspiration from his round face, and by a slouchy-looking young fellow in worn, hand-me-down clothes. “Merriwéell, Merriwell, the crowd. Villum Kess paused on his way to tight field to stand on his head. The Athletes whooped delightedly, and me Pirates, led by Plainwell, opened up a lusty cheer. Hop. Wah, looking at Merry, lifted his hands and shook them expressively. Then he made a move to come in, but Merry waved him back. Clancy, after signaling to the umpire, ftushed fratiti- cally to the Athletes’ bench. He grabbed Merry in both arms. “For Hecpen'a sake, Chip, get into this!’ he implofed. “It’s four to nothing favor of the other side. Hop’s wild, and .théy’ve sprutig a hew pitcher on us. He’s mowing ts down in thtees, as fast as We come tip. Go to it, for the love of Mike!” | . “Look at this, Clan,” ‘returned Merry: He showed his hands, swollen and soté at the wrists. “Tt brtised and battered, ”" he wett on, “and I couldn’t pitch for sour grapes. ’ | Let Hop go on. Vil watch him, and, if he doesn’t improve, I’ll spring an tnknown on, the Pirates, same as they did on us.” ; “Who?” by “A new tnember of the- squad,” and Merty introduced Baltimore Joe. _ “A hobo twirler, cull,” said Joe, grinning, “How do you cotton to me?” . The umpire was. getting impatient, and Claticy had to / hacky to first without expressing himself. Hop, aiid saw his wildness let in ariother score for. the Turning to Hotton, Merry said ‘crisply: “Take Joe to the gym, Rufus, and let him get into a ‘ uniform. He’s going to pitch, and let Hop have a_ rest.” Baltimore Joe hurried: away under convoy of Horton. Hop, knowing it was an “off” day with him, was glad to get out of the game. He was gloomy, but he was grateful. The rest of the team experienced some of the gloom. - Baltimore ave’ looks were against him. Chip, Chip Metriwell !” roared / CHAPTER 5 XI, THE HoBo TWIRLER, p Mab wall from the bench, watched the work of Sat- terlee. It proved to be work that was most admirable, ; Feats Frank applauded. Clancy was right. The lanky pitcher was mowing down the pe by threes, and Coddington, ‘Jou came ranks: to the field just as the’ ining dosed: ae was an altogether different-looking chap, now that he: no time for tied to warm abi but he was rv and ready, and asked no 9 odds ‘of spr Merry watched, from the third, ‘But he' was out. ! some hope for us. Joe, day.” “How’s that?” “That surprise package’ll be opened directly followin’ festivities here on the diamond. How’s your catcher?” “He'll hold anything you hand him, Joe,” said Frank. “He’s next to them signals y’u told me about?” “Sure.” wt Baltimore Joe did a two-step on his way to the pitcher’s — This did not impress the Athletes very much in his favor. They thought he might save the didoes tintil he’ had something that gave him an exctise to celebrate. The Pirates, during the seventh, had worked down to- ward the tail end of theit batting order. McGinn, Plain- — well, and Satterlee were the three men up. “Gi’ me a hit, cull,” said Bunk McGinn. “Hit that, bo,” answered Joe, and whirled his left wing and let fly. Perhaps it was the left hand that fooled MoGtant or. maybe it was the ball, which proved a most deceptive » drop. Anyhow, he struck and missed. rie The ease, the conttol, the grace even, with which the | hobo did his twirling, captured the fancy of every one © right at the start. Tucker, the superintendent, could be heard rooting. , He was wheezy and breathless, but full of enthusiasm, ; “Fan him, Joseph!” “Just as y’u say, super.” Ne Joe’s next ball startéd like a shot from a cannon, “but when it* reached the plate it was loafing in the air. Mc Ginn hit at it before it was anywhere near him, and had the second strike called. eats “That’s the boy!” wheezed the delighted superintendent Ha _ The third pitch was a wild one, but McGinn seeme rattled, and struck at it, anyhow. “You won’t line it out when I give you a chance,” laughed, as McGinn — strode from the plate. Next, Plainwell bobbed up smilingly, “One, two, three and down y’u go, Joe. F ; Ata “All right,” returned Plainwell good-naturedly, “if can make it that.” ; An inshoot, a drop, and a temarkable demon of the Jam" ball wound up Plainwell. “hut, as for medals, Chip’s grabbed ’em all for to- | box. Joe neighbor,” calle ily. Kee “Wait till I start the fast ones,” LaOgneee foe ev next—the other tosser?” — ye “That's who,” answered Satterlee, tia over th plate and beginning to make motions with the bat. i “Then [i give yu a little o’ the eee: said the. twirler. And he did, Satterlee struck at two bats and refraine - Mertiwell. was eat In this ‘hobo “outhpa F had a big “find.” contgratalate Frank on ae new member of the i RON - “Never say die, Rod,” returned. 1 Franke A ga e's 0 over fantth the third om! in the la. of bas 5 ninth NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. 19 thrown out at first. Billy Dill followed suit. John Glory “walked”—and ‘it was the first time Satterlee had allowed such a thing to happen.. The bases were full when Baltimore Joe went to bat. _ Every one was waiting to see what he would do. Would he follow tradition, in the matter of pitchers, and prove a poor batsman? Satterlee was eager to strike Joe out— just because he was a mound rival, and not because he feared a balloon ascension and lots of scores for the Athletes. » But Joe cracked out a long drive eas aie center—and it was too far away for any fielder to get under it. The _ spectators went wild as Rod, Penn, and Glory romped home. Joe got as far as-third. Coddington’s fly was neatly caught, and the side was retired with three runs —all brought across the plate by the hobo twirler. All the players who could get near Baltimore Joe con- gratulated him. He appeared to enjoy the homage, and his eyes glowed and the color surged into his aoe face. The first half of the ninth was a repetition of the first half of the eighth. Joe allowed no hits, but stuck rigidly to His fanning program. The way he found holes in the _ bats was wonderful to see. The last half of the ninth came on with the Pirates ‘still safely in the lead. _ “Hold ’em; Satterlee,” called Plainwell, “that’s all you’ve got to do.” The lanky pitcher nodded to signify that he under-— stood. But there was a queer, dubious look on his face which seemed to indicate that he was beginning to have - doubts. Villum Kess, who could always be counted on to ac- complish the unexpected, had two strikes and three balls called, and then connected with the ball and sent it over into right field. Trimble was there to receive it, but it burned his fingers, and went through. Villum yelled. like a Comanche, and spurted for first. _ Keenan was next, and while he was maneuvering for a hit, the coacher sent Villum safely to second. Keenan hammered out a hot one, but it was scooped up by short who threw to first. Keenan was out, but Villum had im- proved his opportunities and raced for third. Hedges, at first, tried for a double by getting the ball back across he diamond. He overthrew Daly at third, and Villum ‘One out and the score nearly tied! loriously for the Athletés as Rod came to bat, then faded erceptibly as he struck out. Penn had better luck, and nt down to first on a hit and a fumble; and then Clancy, ithout any ifs, ands, or whyfors, lifted the sphere over e fence for the first and only home run of. the game. “Tha ‘was all, weet, and exciting, and the Athletes had tied and es eir opponents’ score. ‘The academy fellows and the sete uiithe poured out iF ate os stand and the bleachers and overflowed the Ton It was the hobo who had pulled the Athletes f their hole, but it was Merry who had found the and brought him to Blyfield right in the nick of Hope brightened: The last half of the ninth was short) rounded up and returned the compliment. Then Horton came lugging a canvas bag of silver and greenbacks and placed it in the hands of Plainwell. “Here are the gate receipts, Plainwell,” said the Yale man, “and you'll find there’s plenty to go around and take every one of your crowd where he wants to go. It’s a pleasure for the Athletes to be able to help.” On behalf of the Pirates, Plainwell made a little speech in which he expressed the gratitude of his teammates for the generosity of their rivals. “But,” he added, “it’s no more than we’d expect of a crowd whose captain is Chip Merriwell!” CHAPTER XII.’ CONCLUSION. Half an hour later, in the dressing rooms at the gym, Baltimore Joe was getting acquainted with his future team- mates. The enthusiasm of success, born of the skill of the hobo twirler, was still high, and the stranger was taken into camp with wide arms and joyously welcomed. When the ardor cooled, Frank was wondering if any snobbish sentiment would show itself in the ranks of the Athletes and make Joe’s position an unpleasant one. He felt that he knew all his men, and that there was not one who would turn his back on the latest athlete to join the team. Tucker, the division superintendent, had enjoyed the - game—that is, all he had seen of it—and had immediately © returned to his waiting “special.” He had tried to get close enough to Merriwell to have a word with him, but the crowd was so thick that he had found this impossible. A reporter for the Blyfield Sun, however, managed to get an interview with the railroad man, and the result was a “story” that mostly concerned F mae Merriwell and the two runaway cars. Long before the Sum appeared, Baltimore Joe had told the yarn. He began it in the dressing room of the acad-. emy gym, but he had to finish later, for Merriwell was present and begged him to put away the bouquets. _ “Give us the story yourself, then!” shouted the Ath- letes. “To-night, at the hotel, fellows,” ,agreed Merriwell. “There’s nothing to that car business but a whole’ lot of Joe’s foolishness.” “Hear him ie !” cried Joe. “Chee! but he’s modest. If I’d done the half o’ what he did, I’d be sendin’ my picture to the papers. I’m goin’ to give my side of it when he gets through.” _ All the Athletes that evening were in the office of their hotel. Horton was with them, The team had just enjoyed a good supper, and while their hunger had been appeased in: one direction, it had been whetted in another. © aad wanted Chip’s yarn. : ; He gave it to them, but he made more oe his capture at — the hands of Lattimer, Brezee, and the fellow called Andy, and of his hard ride in the empty box car than he Gd: 2 of the exploit on the mountainside. nie “Here’s where I shine,” exulted Joe. ’u’d come around to me.” Thereupon he went to work and covered Chip ‘Merri- well with glory. Frank tried to make a joke of it, but “IT told a it the version given to the reporter by the division super- intendent had. spread and Merriwell was boosted dan- gerously close to the hero class. It was a rdle he de- * ¢ ae! tested, and he got into the background by deftly shifting the subject. : “Was there much money bet on the outcome of that game, Rufus?” he inquired. “I hear there was quite a good deal of money changed hands,” answered Horton. “Most of it was Lattimer money, then,” said Frank. “I suppose so,” went on the Yale man; “and, if that is really the case, Lattimer has again been beaten at his own game.” “Chee!” muttered Joe; “I’d like to had a little o’ that myself. Next game we play, if I can rustle a few iron louies, I’m goin’ to get a little vélvet.” Silence greeted this remark. Frank was first to speak. “That’s barred among the Athletes, Joe,” said he. “You can’t have clean sport if you back it up with money.” “No? For why?” “Because,” explained Horton, “betting makes for dis- honesty in every line of sport. It’s poor business, and the quickest way for one of our Athletes to get himself dropped from the squad is to begin laying wagers,” “Chee!” murmured Joe. “See how it is, Chip? I’m mixed in the wrong bunch.” “You're in the right crowd, Joe, and all you've got to do is to stand up to our principles,” returned Horton. “Can’t you do it?” “I can make a stagger to try,” was the response. “That’s all we ask of you. Now, boys,” and here the Yale man addressed himself to the team generally, “next Monday we're to begin our tour. We start for the West in the afternoon, and on Tuesday we'll begin our schedule of games with various amateur organizations. We'll play teams of farmers, of cowboys, of miners, and occasionally we'll try our skill in the cities. We'll not lack for contests, for there are dozens of amateur associations clamoring for dates with us. } “All I ask of you, wherever we are or whatever club we meet, is to show the same spirit which you have displayed right here in Blyfield, while we have been rounding up and whipping ourselves into shape. Do that, and you will boom athletics all through the West and inspire a hearty and wholesome respect for the sports of track and field. So long as Chip Merriwell is your captain, there is no fear but that Merriwell’s Athletes will cover themselves with glory. The very name of Merriwell is one to con- jure with, and——” Just here the enthusiasm of the Athletes would not suf- fer them to remain silent. They leaped up on chairs, waved their hats, and yelled until the windows rattled. There were cheers for Rufus Horton, whose love of sport and whose enterprising spirit had made the organi- zation of crack amateurs possible; and then followed three times three for young Merriwell, chip of the old block, and captain of the squad. The shouting was taken up by a crowd that had gathered on the veranda, and no team of athletes ever entered actively into the. lists of sport under more auspicious circumstances. And it was to be clean sport. With Merriwell and Horton behind the Athletes it could be nothing else, THE END. “Frank Merriwell, Junior’s, Canceled Game; or, The Town that Made a Mistake,” is the title of the story that will be found in the next issue of this weekly, No. 20 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. 49, out July 5th. Merriwell’s Athletes, traveling in their private car, arrive at the mining town of Whipsaw, in New Mexico, where they are to meet a nine composed of young fellows who work in the Whipsaw Mine, and who call themselves the Whipsaw Warriors. The game is called off, and in its stead five members of Merriwell’s Athletes follow five of the Warriors over a most remarkable. trail of perilous obstacles. The Billion-dollar Snapshot. By BERTRAM LEBHAR. SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING CHAPTERS. Frank Hawley, a staff photographer of the New York Sentinel, is sent by the Sunday editor to get a picture of the richest child in the world, Majorie Mallon, the ten-year- old daughter of a Wall Street magnate. Because of her vast wealth, and from the fact that no paper_has ever succeeded in getting a photograph of her, she is known in newspaper circles .as the “Billion-dollar Snapshot.” Arriving at Newstead, where the Mallon place is, Haw- ley finds it surrounded by a hedge and a high iron fence, and guarded by many private detectives and watchmen. After a number of futile attempts to get in, and some exciting adventures, he finally succeeds in reaching the house, disguised as Doctor Jinks, a New York specialist —who, by accident, he learns has been sent for. He man- ages to get two good exposures of the little girl. Fortune has favored him in that no one knows Doctor Jinks personally, but as he is about to make his get-away, a servant enters and informs Mallon that a man claiming to be the real Doctor Jinks is at the gate. Mallon orders that this man, who is in fact the réal Doctor Jinks, be brought to the house, but when he arrives Hawley outfaces him and succeeds in convincing the finan- cier that the newcomer is the impostor, whereupon the real doctor is arrested. Hawley departs in triumph in his carriage, having just time to catch his train, and, on the way, much to the surprise of the driver, gives a lift to a woman and little girl who are hurrying for the train. On the train he suddenly remembers his big camera, left at Newstead Inn, and recklessly returns for it. He for- gets to remove his disguise, however, and is held up by the landlord as a hotel thief. Perforce he reveals himself, and the landlord insisting on an explanation Hawley tells him he is a secrét-service agent, The landlord accepts this, and is about to let him go when an enemy of Hawley’s, one Gale, of the Daily News, turns up and gives him away. He is arrested and taken to court, where he finds the real Doctor Jinks and Mal- lon; the latter, when he hears of the disguise, suspects the truth and insists that Hawley don the wig and beard. Hawley, pretending to protest, manages to drop the little camera with the snapshots out of the window into the long grass beneath, and, that being safe, submits. ‘CHAPTER XVI. sTuNG! The chief of police, having the prisoner backed against > the wall, seized his arm. “Come, now,” he said triumphantly, “you'd better put these things on without any more resistance, like a sensible fellow.” | . “All right,” replied’ Hawley, who, having accomplished his purpose of disposing of the camera, was now quite ready to submit. “It’s a confounded outrage to make a Ss ma po areca TS ll ata toate pas — ~~ lat tal isk Mma rie WOT > wa i an - appearance, ‘sational sheet in New York! have to let him g0,’ ~~ testily. NEW TIP man wear a wig and false beard against his will, but I sup- pose it’s no use making a fuss.” He donned his disguise, and, at the sight of his altered Mr. Mallon started forward. “It is as I feared,” he exclaimed. “This scoundrel is the impostor who obtained entrance to my house to-day by pretending to be Doctor Jinks. I have made a terrible mistake, your honor. The unfortunate gentleman who was before you, a few minutes ago——’ “What?” gasped the judge. “You don’t mean to say that he is the real Doctor Jinks, after all?” “IT very much fear so,” replied the millionaire, shaking his head sadly. “I realize now that this abandoned wretch” —he glared at the camera man—‘is an impostor. Conse- quently there is every reason to suppose that the other one’s claim to be Doctor Jinks was perfectly legitimate.” “Then perhaps I’d better send for him, sir, and discharge him from custody,” suggested the judge. “Yes,'I think you’d better, your honor,” lionaire, with a sigh. “We mustn’t keep him locked up a minute longer. I suppose he'll never forgive me for the injustice I’ve done him.” He turned once more to Hawley and savagely shook his fist at that uncomfortable young man. “Oh, you monster!” he cried. “I wish it was in my power to send you to the electric ¢hair.” “We'll send him to jail for a’ good, long term, anyway, Mr. Mallon,” his honor promised him, “Ill stay up all night lookin’ over my law books to see how, many dif- ferent charges we can try the rascal on.” A. few minutes later the court officer, who had beeri sent to bring back Doctor Jinks from the lockup, returned with that indignant gentleman, who was thereupon informed by the court of the discovery that had been made, and hon- orably discharged, with profuse apologies from Mr. Mallon. “T assure you, sir, that you shall be amply avenged,” the latter de@lared. “This young scoundrel who has dared to take such liberties with your name shall be severely pun- ished,” Doctor Jinks turned to Hawley. “Why did you do this, sir?’ he aerated eee said the ‘mil- “To get some ictures for my paper,” replied the camera s' Pp y pap man humbly. “For your paper? Are you a hewspaper man?” A wor- tied look came to the physician’s face. “Yes, sir, I am a photographer on the staff of the New ' York Sentinel.” “The most sen- Good heavens!” “What is the matter, doctor?” inquired Mr. licitously. “The matter is eet we can’t punish this rascal. ’ growled the specialist. “The Sentinel!” ‘Doctor Jinks winced. Mallon so- We'll “Let him go!” gasped the millionaire. “I should say not, indeed. We are going to send him to jail for a good many ‘ months.” “Yes, sir!” interjected his honor. “I promise you, gen- tlemen, that I shall show no mercy to the rogue.- He shall ; get the very limit of the law.” Still Doctor Jinks shook his head. “T tell you that we can’t afford to prosecute,” he declared “Don’t you see that it is impossible?” “Impossible? Why so?” “Because if we send him to jail the sensational sheet he works for will publish a detailed account of the trick he TOP ‘ WEEKLY. 21 has played on us. I shall become the laughingstock of the medical profession, and you will be the joke of Wall Street when the facts become known. Maybe you, can stand the ridicule, Mr. Mallon, but I assure you that I can’t” The millionaire’s face turned pale. “By Jove! I hadn’t thought of that,” he muttered. Hawley’s spirits suddenly began to soar. He realized that perhaps, after all, he wouldn’t have to go to prison. He hastened to take part in the discussion. “What Doctor Jinks has just observed is very true, Mr. Mallon,” he said, turning very hastily to that gentleman. “You can prosecute me, if you wish—I will candidly admit that I richly deserve it—but I regret to say that, if I am sent to jail, the whole story-is bound to appear in the Sentinel. “It will make mighty juicy reading, That little incident of the grass poultices, for instance, is sure to prove highly diverting to the readers of the Sentinel. The fact’ that you, the smartest man on Wall Street, allowed yourself to be deceived by a humble newspaper photographer will make all New York snicker. “Other papers will reprint the Sentinel’s story, too,” he went on. “The New York correspondents of the out-of- town papers will put it on the wire and send it all over the country. It really wouldn’t surprise, me at all if even the American representatives of the European press were to cable an account of-the affair to their home papers. Your name is so universally known, you see, that the press of the entire world would consider the story well worth publishing, no doubt.” The financier’s face was as dark as a thundercloud. He bit his lower lip, and his long fingers worked spasmodically, as though he yearned to take the camera man by the throat. “By Jove!” he muttered, under his breath. “The scoun- drel speaks the truth. The press would make life miserable if they got hold of that wretched story.” He turned to the physician. “Doctor Jinks,” he added, “I am afraid you are right, sir. We dare not prosecute this rascal. We can- not afford the notoriety.” In the midst of his elation at these words a disturbing thought came to Hawley. Here, he reflected, was an op- portunity for his enemy, Gale, to do him another bad turn. If the Daily News reporter were to announce that even if the Sentinel didn’t use the story, he, Gale, intended to send it to his paper, anyway, and that, therefore, it was no use trying to hush up the matter, Mr. Mallon and Doctor Jinks would realize that they would gain nothing by letting Haw- ley go free. Would Gale do this? Hawley glanced anxiously toward the spot where the newspaper man had been standing. To his great surprise, the latter was no longer there. He had slipped out of the courtroom unobserved. Hawley wondered exceedingly why ‘a reporter of Gale’s ability and experience should have left in the middle of court proceedings which looked like good “copy” for his sheet. However, he was mighty glad that such was the case, ‘ Doctor Jinks, a scowl on his face, turned to the prisoner. “Suppose we let you go?” he snapped. “Would you promise that not a word about this—er—shameful impos- ture would appear in your wretched paper?” : Hawley eagerly held up his right hand. “T swear it,” he cried. “If you will be so good as to let me off this. time, gentlemen, I promise that [I shall not let the Sentinel know anything about this affair.” hee Bo aes NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. “You had better not,” growled Mr. Mallon. “Remember that, even though we let you go now, we can have you arrested again later on, and brought back here for trial. We shall surely do so, too, if a word about the dastardly outrage appears in your contemptible sheet,” “Have no fear, sir,” the camera man assured them. “There will be no publicity, as far as the Sentinel is con- cerned.” . The millionaire held a few minutes’ whispered conver- sation with Doctor Jinks, and then turned to the judge. “Under the circumstances, your honor,” he said, “we have decided not to prosecute. We request you to let this rogue go, on condition that ~he leaves Newstead by the first train.” “Oh, thank you, gentlemen,” cried Hawley joyously. Both Mr. Mallon and the physician glared at him fero- ciously. “Don’t thank us,” growled the former. “We are not inspired to do this by any desire to show you mercy. We would send you to prison for life—if it weren’t for the notoriety.” “Yes,” chimed in the angry specialist. “And you can thank your lucky star, sir, that the whipping post has been abolished. If I could have the satisfaction of seeing you soundly flogged, I think I should be willing to stand the notoriety of prosecuting you.” “Anyway,” snapped Mr. Mallon, know that you will wind up in the electric chair. drel like you is bound to come to such an end.” “If you ever show your face in Newstead again, sir,” declared his honor from the bench, “I will send you to jail as a vagrant.” The camera man received these compliments and warn- ings meekly. “Am I at liberty to go now, judge?” he inquired. “Yes—get out of here.” : Hawley didn’t have to be told twice. Congiagileting himself upon his rare good fortune, he hurried out of _the courtroom. As soon as he was outside he ran around to the other side of the building, crossed the stretch of lawn in front of the barred window, and eagerly dived into the long grass in search of the kodak containing those pelanishe nega- “it is some comfort to A scoun- tives of the Billion-dollar Snapshot. 4 “Saved, after all,” he chuckled happily. “Gee whiz! I certainly am a lucky fellow. Won’t old Mallon foam at the mouth when he sees his daughter’s face staring at him from the front page lof the Sentinel’s Sunday supplement. Then he gave a gasp of poe) and his face turned the ‘color of chalk. -. The camera was not there! A sheet of white paper caught his eye. Ballasted by a stone to prevent it from»being carried away by the wind, it was lying on the grass near the spot where the kodak , Should have been. Hawley saw that it was a sheet of “copy” paper—the special kind that is used in all newspaper offices. With dire forebodings, he picked it up, and* found there _ was a single word scrawled upon it in pencil. » _ That word. was: “Stung!” ) . re “Gale!” said the camera man chokingly. “So that’s why he left the courtroom so suddenly! He must have seen me drop the camera out of the window. “He’s got those pictures, and the News will publish them \ ie instead oh. the oop eee BE Ai ae ae toe CHAPTER XVII. HIS HAPPY THOUGHT. For.a few moments Hawley stood there brooding over his unpleasant discovery. And so all his efforts, all the dangers he had passed through in order to obtain those snapshots, ‘had been in vain! fe If he had failed to land the pictures of the Billion-dollar Tot, it would have been bad enough. But this was worse _ than failure—much worse. He had landed the pictures, only to have them fall into the hands of the enemy. To- _ morrow the Daily News, the Sentinel’s bitter rival, would publish these snapshots on its front page; no doubt, with a large-type headline boasting of its big pictorial scoop. Perhaps even—and Hawley turned a shade paler at the thought—the News would be bold enough to confess to its readers how it had come into possession of the photo-— graphs, and would publish a story along with the pictures, — gleefully describing how its smart, up-to-the-minute, alert representative had got the best of the sleepy, vehiat a times Sentinel man. “If they do that,” muttered the camera man moodily, “y suppose I’ll be fired. The Sentinel will have no use on its — staff for a fellow who has allowed himself to be made such a fool of.” gt Suddenly he clenched his fists and a steely pole came. into his eyes. “I’ve got to get those pictures back,” he muttered. “Galé isn’t going to get away with this trick if I can help it. — I'll show him that I’m not stung quite so badly as he — thinks. The Daily News isn’t going to publish those snap- shots. No sirree. I’ll get-them back if I have to go up to the News editorial rooms and lick every man in the place, from the managing editor down to the elevator, : man.’ 2g A gleam of hope came to him with the mouse that perhaps, after all, Gale had not yet left Newstead. The New York train might not have come in yet. Gale might still be at the station waiting for it to arrive. When this possibility dawned upon him, the camera man, it is scarcely necessary to say, didn’t lose any time in reaching the station. oS Attired in the, high silk hat in which he had personat ed Doctor Jinks—for he had had no oportunity, as yet, to exchange it for more suitable headgear—but ‘minus th wig and false beard, which he had purposely left behind in the courtroom, he cut a very peculiar figure as he dashed up the main street of the village, for the high hat, w ch had been bought to fit the wig, was now two sizes too big for him. The crown of the hat consequently came dow1 over his ears, and it wobbled as he ran, so that at times it was tilted over his nose, and at other times it hte the extreme rear of his head. Hawley was too intent upon his purpose, however, care anything about the appearance he presented. As neared the depot he heard the screech of a locomoti whistle, and that sound caused him to run faster tha had ever run in his life.: He saw that the New. York train was in e n reached the station, and, with an exclamation of relief dashed through the waiting room and onto the platfort He was just one bare second too late. The train to move before he could reach it. The conductor had given the engineer the signal to go ahead, | “Stop! Stop!” he cried, but his voice wal: sa erge NEW TIP -the puffing of the engine; and, anyway, even if his cry had been heard, nobody would have paid any attention to it. He would have flung himself upon the moving train, but he was prevented from doing so by the station mas- ter, who ‘threw his arms afotind, Hawley’s waist and held him tight. _ “Can’t get on now, mister. You're too late,” “You'll have to wait for the next.” _ As Hawley struggled, he caught sight of a face peering at him through a window of the last car. i Jt was Gale; and there was a taunting smile upon his ; good- looking countenance. As the train mioved along the platform, he tapped on the window glass and held up for Hawley’s inspection a small pocket camera. This he held in his right hand. The fingers of his left hand he extended from his nose—a ges- ture not elegant, but exceedingly expressive. - At-this maddening sight, the camera man redoubled his efforts to break away from the station master’s hold, but the latter held on like grim death until the train was well out of the station. Then he let Hawley go, and looked at him reproach- fully. “What's the matter with you, you crazy fool?” he asked. “If T’d let you climb aboard. that moving train, probably have fallen beneath the wheels and been killed. Do you want to commit suicide?’ “No,” growled the camera man. mitting murder.” _ “What’s the sense of gettin’ so excited about missin’ a train ?” went on the man cheerfully. “There’ll be another one along in an hour.” “An: hhour—a whole hour to wait. Gale would have those snapshots developed, made into halftones, and almost dy for the press before he, ee, arrived.in New rk. ‘But as going to take them aw ay tots him, nev verthe- .’ muttered the camera man between his clenched _ Those pictures shall never be a in his Paper he said. “T feel more like com- there was not very much chance of seal a wild- st method: being crowned with success, Hawley racked Ss brains for a more effective method. ris was not ais: first time that Gale, of os ee had iy aa ate it in triumph to the News office. tet th t occasion Hawley had succeeded i in recovering a, ‘a uccéeded i in pe abo the Raeddton: Gale on ion, why shouldn’t he have equal luck now? wouldn’t do, though, to attempt to repeat ' Those fellows in the News office would tard this time, and he would stand no chance ‘ing ney: with it. ‘TOP you'd: art He must try a ‘brand-new ae 2 his thoughts to - other WEEKLY, BB ing room. This sign read: “Long-distance Telephone Inside.” At fitst these words snbdested nothing to hith; but sud- denly he stopped short, straightening up as if the plat- form beneath his feet had suddenly been charged with electricity. “Great Scott!” he exclaimed excitedly. “The very thing. What a blithering idiot I am not to have thotight of it before. It’s sure to succeed. Those snapshots are as good as recovered already.” Hawley entered the booth, and bade central get him the New York Sentinel on the wife as quickly as possible. “Hello!” he cried, when the connection was made. “This the Sentinel? Give me the night city editor im a hurry.” There was a slight pattse as the newspaper’s switchboard operator connected him with the “desk,” and.then: “Hello, is that you, Mr., Phalen. . . This is Hawley. Yes, Hawley, the camera man. . I’m tp at New- stead. The Sunday editor gave me an assignment up here to get a picture of the Billion-dollar Snapshot. . Have I got it? Well, that’s what I want to talk to you about, sir. “T matiaged to take two good snapshots of little Miss | Mallon; but a reporter named Gale, on the Daily News, has stolen them from me. “He swiped my kodak-with the films inside, and he’s on his way to New York now, with them in his pocket. He left Newstead on the New York train a few minutes ago. “Tint ‘calling you up now, Mt. Phalen, to ask whether you’d mind assigiting a couple of husky memberts. of the staff to meet that train, gtab Gale when he gets off, and take that camera away from him. Yoti’ll do. it, eh? Oh, thank you ever so much, sit. Good-by!” He left the telephone with a broad gfin on his face. you ee guess it will be the Sentinel, after all, and not the News, which will print the first picture of the Billion-dollar Tot eyer published,” he chuckled. “Mr. Gale is in for a nice little surprise when he atrives at the other end.” - my 4 CHAPTER XVIIL AT THE OTHE OTHER END. Satisfied that he had no further cause te worfy about the safety of the pictufes, Hawley now found time to turn so things. He recollected that, al- ._ ae he had returned to. Newstead expressly to Tecover — his big camera, he was still without it; for he had left it — in the lobby of the hotel when he had ied caught coming — out of his room with it by the landlord and mistaken for a hotel thief. ~ “T guéss I'll go back and gét it,” he say i tenet “In % spite of what has occurred, the old fellow cati’'t refuse fo let me have my own property. My. suit case is there, too, ‘Til haye hide to return ane get them wigs the trait comes int,’ The hotel keeper glared at him when ha enteted ‘the inn and delivered himself of several caustic remarks, at Haw-. ley’s expense. He did not put in any objection, however, when the camera man announced that he had come back f si his effects. ¥ Ne But when the hatter, Seeing: ganneicient ‘no longer, worth while, proceeded to tear off the paper wrapping in which his, beloved camera was. disguised, the old land: ord’s s eyes s almost popped Ph of his head. _~ Graves. an NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY, He pointed a trembling finger toward the photographic apparatus suddenly revealed to his horrified gaze. “Is—is that there thing a—a camera?” he gasped. Hawley smiled and nodded. . “And it’s been in my hotel all the time, and I never guessed what was inside that package. Oh, if only I’d suspected it, I’d have thrown it and you out of here pretty quick, you can bet your bottom dollar. A camera in my - hotel! Gee whillikens! Get out of my sight quick, you loafer, afore I do you an injury.” Hawley, chuckling at the old man’s wrath, left the hotel, and returned to the railway station. A little later the New York train came in, afd he climbed aboard, settled himself comfortably in a corner seat, and leaned. back against the ay, with a sigh of relief and satisfac- tion. / “All’s well that hls well,” he said to himself. “To get those snapshots of the Billion-dollar Tot has been one of the toughest jobs I’ve ever been up against; but, thanks to my usual good luck, I’ve made good, after all. Won't the Sunday editor be tickled to death with those pictures? jOf course, he’ll get. them all right. There’s no chance of Gale getting away with them now. That happy thought ‘ of mine to call up the night city editor on the long-dis- tance wire is sure to result in his being grabbed as soon as he steps off the train at the Grand Central Station.” * * % * See me Mr. Phalen, night city editor of the Sentinel, as soon as he received Hawley’s telephone message, swung around in his desk chair and surveyed the little group of re- porters, who, ‘having nothing to do just. then, were loung- ing in the city room. “Any of you-fellows know a chap named Gale, on the News?” he inquired. ; “Yes, sir,” spoke up several. “What sort of a fellow jis he?” “Pretty shifty individual.” “Isn’t to be trusted.” “Never plays the game fair.’ “Always will do you if he gets the ' chance.” “Most treacherous reporter in the newspaper business.” These were some of the unflattering opinions of the News man readily expressed by his brothers of the pen—for there were few of them with whom Gale had not broken faith at some time or other. “Humph!” grunted the night city editor. “Not very popular with the-bunch, it appears.. Well, I want a couple of you to go up to the Grand Central Station, meet him as he:steps off the train from Newstead, and make him ive up a camera with some yaluable films in it which he stole from Hawley, one of our staff photographers. Who wants the assignment?” He smiled at the nee with which every one of them volunteered. “It is apparently a job which you all fancy,” he said. “Well, I can’t send all of you., It would flatter him too * much if I assigned a half dozen to meet him.” His eye - roved over the group. “I guess I’ll select Hopkins and They’re the huskiest of t fellows meet that News man and gét the camera from him. If you can’t get it by moral suasion, use force. Understand?” “We understand, sir,” _ break every bone in that crook’s body. Stole a camera and films from Hawley, did he? The ‘Camera Chap’ is a a particular friend of ours. We'll show him.” © : bigs Ah : 7 ‘a . : : Ss bunch. You two_ rented Hopkins and Ghares in’ chorus. “We'll get the camera, all right, if- we have to With the very best of intentions, the two young giants started out.on this assignment. They went to the Grand Central Depot, and inquired when the next train from — Newstead would be in. They were informed that it would — be two hours befere it arrived. hese “Two hours!” exclaimed Hopkins disgustedly. “Gee, — that’s a long time to wait. Suppose we find a billiard room in the neighborhood, Graves, and beguile the intervening, time with a few games?” oe “All right,” replied the other reporter. “I’m agree- able. We can watch the clock as we play so as to be sure to be back here in time for that train.’ It is one thing to resolve to “watch the clock, Cate quite another thing actually to watch it. The two Sentinel men soon became so engrossed in their billiards that they clean forgot all about the train they had been sent to meet. % When, at length, Hopkins, happening to recollect their errand, glanced at the clock on the wall of the billiard parlor, he uttered an exclamation of dismay. “Hully gee! Look at the time, Graves!” he gasped. “Only two minutes before that train gets in, and we're at least ‘ten minutes away from the station!” The other reporter turned pale. “By jingo!” he cried. “I guess we’re up against it. Gale will be gone before we get there. We've fallen down on the assignment. This is what comes of your con- founded desire to play billiards.” He turned upon his com- panion wrathfully. ‘ “My desire to play billiards?” replied the other, ‘ince ing ironically; “I like that! It was you who proposed that we play, Graves, and I only consented in order to be 80-) 4 ciable. It is your fault entirely.” “Well, it’s no use standing here quarreling over it, ” de clared Graves. “Let’s hurry around to the station. There may still be a chance of getting Gale. The train from Newstead may be late.” They threw down their cues, hurried into their. ¢ ats and dashed around to the Grand Central Station. \“Train from Newstead got in yet?” they inquired, y breathless eagerness of the man a the ‘gate. “Yes, sir. Eight minutes ago.” The two Sentinel reporters exchanged stares of d mi: “ “Well, I guess we're up against it,” sighed Hopki “Yes, there’s nothing for us to do but to go back report failure to Phalen and take our medicine.” In the meantime, Gale, having stepped from the without molestation, and from the train to the sireaty hurrying to the office of the Daily News. : “Say, boss,” he said to his night city —o a8 hé tered the editorial rooms and approached the “ A with a triumphant leer: tfpon his face, “I guess val to,be mighty glad that you sent me to Newstead.” “Why so?” growled the coatless man who sat at head of the copy desk... “The story turned, out: to pretty punk oné. Nobody gives a darn whether old lon’s gardener has rheumatism or not. more than a quarter of a column.” “I know,” replied Gale, “but while I was dat I incidentally picked up pene which I singh. is dollar Snapshot.” The night city editor of the We ews sat up saih chair when he heard that. “What r he exclaimed excitedly. “The Bill a yee 2) id Se it NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. i 25 Tot’s picture. That'll be the first ever published in any ‘newspaper, won’t it? That’s a corking good piece of work, Gale.” His frown Gieappeanee: and he beamed upon the reporter. “But what makes you say you think you've got her pic- ture?” he inquired anxiously, as the queerness of the re- ‘porter’s remark suddenly dawned upon him. “Don’t you know whether you’ve got it or not?” “No, sir, I don’t. You see, I didn’t take the snapshot : self,” 7 Gale proceeded to explain to the editor how he had come oO possession of it, speaking boastfully,and without the ightest pretense of being conscience-stricken. “Of course, I can’t be sure that there is any picture at in the kodak,” he concluded. “It is only guesswork on y part. When I saw Hawley drop the kodak out of the courtroom window I immediately came to the conclusion hat it must contain some valuable picture or pictures which he was anxious to conceal. Therefore, I sneaked out and rrabbed the camera and hurried here with it.” “Good work,” commented the night city editor. mera it is likely to be one of the Billion-dollar SHAR shot? It is just-as likely to be that of some other person.” 'The'reporter smiled and shook his head. “I don’t think he replied. “It is a safe bet that it was to get a snap- - of the little Mallon girl that the Sentinel sent Hawley ewstead. Hasn’t every paper in the country been after -kid’s picture for years?” : “Well, we'll soon see,” said the other eagerly. “Take mera upstairs to the photo-engraving room right Gale, and have them empty it and develop the films.” The reporter went to execute this errand, and a little Returned in a state of great excitement. e’re in luck, boss,” he cried. “There’s two snapshots ‘the Mallon girl, and from the looks of the negatives, sreat | “p congratulate you, my has he arose from his chair and shook hands with in an meantime ‘poor Hawley, in blissful ignorance s, and absolutely confident that he would find the photographs safe in the Sentinel office when he got continued to chuckle, as the train sped on, at the picture he drew of Gale’s discomfiture. : train e pealted into the Grand Central Station, and -, at j our service,” replied the camera man, with : smile, et he could tell from their manner Ww us. better later on,” the man replied grimly. | der arrest.” Both men grabbed him by the “But . vhat makes you think that if there is a picture inside the camera man, struggling in vain to disengage himself from ‘their grasp. growled one of the detectives. Ain’t going to/do you any good.” “Better come quietly,” “Tt’s no use being ugly. “Are you policemen or private detectives?” demanded Hawley. “Cops—from the central office. That’s right, young fel- ler, be sensible, and don’t give us any trouble,” replied the spokesman genially, for Hawley, realizing the futility of it, had ceased to struggle. “Where are you going to take me?” “Police headquarters.” “What for? What am I chapead with?” “Kidnaping.” “Kidnaping!” cried. the camera man, amazed; then he laughed derisively. “Gee, that’s making it pretty strong,” he added coolly. “Why don’t you accuse me of murder in the first degree while you’re about it? Who's been kidnaped ?” The reply that he received quite took his breath away. “Little Miss Mallon is missing,” declared one of the. detectives sternly. “Her father accuses you of being re- sponsible for her disappearance, and has ne us to antes you.” ; TO BE- CONTINUED. —————- +10) PIGEON FLYING IS AN OLD ENGLISH SPORT. © Fifty years ago probably not one Englishman out of a thousand could have answered the simplest question about the homing pigeon. To-day there are in Great Britain alone more than 800 clubs devoted to its interests; and there are half a million birds! able to fly distances ranging up to 500 miles or more at the speed of a train, winging their way over land and sea with an unerring instinct. All that horse-racing is to the rich, pigeon facing is to the man of slender purse. And not only to the poor men, who have tee cotes in thousands scattered over the face of the country, for the homer has his devotees in all ranks, from laborer to lord, and King George himself treasures more than one firize won by the fleetness of wings. Those who are skeptical of the fnacudtiens of this “sport of the people” should see the special trains leaving Manchester and Warrington carrying some 10,000 pigeons’ on their way to distant Nantes for the great homeward race of 420 to 500 — for prizes aggregating over $5,000. le one such race the winner sind 3 across land and sea at an average speed of 1,420 yards a minute; another /teached its loft in just over 9% hours, having flown 433% miles at the rate of 1,329 yards a nfinute. And these are quite common speeds, even for a journey as. long as that from Brighton to Edinburgh. The value of these 10,000 birds is $60,000, and their journey to France costs every penny of $2,500, of. which $145 is required — j for customs dues at St, Malo. But greater swiftness than this is not unknown. Ja recent races from Retford and Branston to London, dis-~ tances well over ten miles, many of the bitds averaged In another race, in considerably over a mile a minute. which 1 000 birds belonging to the London Federation were tossed at -Templecombe, the winner covered 108 mang: in o4 minutes; ee reached Ghslens cote at ar ying 20 the distance at an average speed of just over 70 miles an hour. Fully 100 of the birds flew over 60 miles an hour; in fact, many of the owners were so little prepared for such wonderful flights that when they thought it was time for their arrival and went to the cotes the pigeons were found resting on their perches. A ¢entury ago no pigeon had been known to fly a greater distance than too miles. There are birds to-day which have covered 1,000 miles in a single flight, making straight as an arrow for their cotes over a distance as great as that which separates London from Madrid. One American pigeon indeed has done better still, for it ac- complished a flight of 1,700 miles from the roof of a Den- vet hotel to its loft in- Pittsburgh. Such are the amaz- ing feats of these monarchs of the air, which can fly for twenty hours or more at a stretch without food or water. It is easy to believe the fascination of this sport of pigeon racing when we find that as many as 30,000 birds have competed in ‘a single race, and that on a single Saturday between 200,000 and 300,000 are tossed in com- petitions all over the country, the prizes for which amount to $10,000: Naturally, from one cause or another, many of the birds never find their way home. ,Indeed, in one memorable race, from Nantes to, Lancashire, it was estimated that over 5,000'pigeons out of 6,595 thus went astray. ‘Pigeon racing has even more the fascinating uncertainty of the turf, for the humblest fancier is on equal terms with his more wealthy neighbor. He may be lucky enough to buy a “squeaker’—a young bird—for a paltry 10 ‘shillings, and discover that he has a veritable Eclipse, a flyer that ‘can win a small fortune in prizes and which he would not \part with for $500.. For an expenditure of $35 to $40 he can start a cote which, with luck, will soon yield a revenue of from) $250 to $500 a year in the sale of young birds alone, apart from a possible harvest of _ prize money, 8 te LARGEST EXTINCT ANIMALS. Some years ago Sir E. Ray Lankester told us to be of good heart while contemplating the gigantic extinct rep- tiles of the past, for we had in the existing sperm whales, that Great Rorqual, and the whalebone whales creatures bigger than any of them. That comparison still holds true, but the German expedition in search of the dino- saurs of East Africa, the first fossil remains of which were fotind by Professor Fraas, six years ago, has af- forded us a glimpse of reptiles much greater than any which are now “restored” in museums: — The expedition sent out by the University of Berlin is still at work in Hinterland, some five days’ march from the sea, and digging in the middle of a tropical and malaria- stricken wilderness is largely carried on by negroes. A preliminary report has heen presented by Doctor Hennig, and, though no complete skeleton of any of the large dinosaurs has yet been discovered, enough has been found to prove that the largest African animals of that time exceeded by far the mightiest of the North American dinosaurs. It is thought that the largest ' attained al- most twice the length of the diplodocus, of which there is a cast in the Natural History Museum in South Ken- Sington, and which was 80 feet long, The neck of this reptile, gigantosaurus, appears to have ker eile ot S ay hee x le te rier NEW. TIP TOP WEEKLY. been at least fifteen feet longer than that of the diplodo- cus and a good deal thicker, as the vertebre are nearly twice as high as in the American monster. ‘Dull-witted giants,” Doctor Hennig calls them, with necks nearly forty feet long and six feet thick, with length of legs exceed- ing any known size. But in their neighborhood was a reptilian fauna almost more diverse than the assemblage of animal life in Africa to-day—the dragon tribe, large and small; herds of armed dinosaurs, terrible in shape, with mighty long spines along back and: tail; small, swift saurians, and others that flew, and the fearsome carnivorous reptiles which would attack anything except perhaps a gigantosaurus. cece celine SOME FOOTBALL FACTS. Football was forbidden in Elizabeth’s reign under pain of imprisonment, the reason being the extreme brutality of the game, we are told. And James I. debarred “all rough and violent exercises like football” from his court. In spite, however, of the prohibition against the ‘game, the London apprentices often kicked a football about the streets to keep themselves warm in winter, and it is-on record that in the severe frost of 1665 the London streets were “full of footballs.” mth 6 @ + Ge ECHOES LOUDER THAN SOUND. To most persons it would seem impossible for an echo to be louder than the sound that produced the echo, but under certain rather peculiar conditions this is really true. When a revolver is fired from a balloon the report is sharp, but not so loud as it would be if the gun were fired on the surface of the earth. If the balloon is up something like 2,000 feet or higher, there will be a few seconds’ silence after the revolver shot and then .a roar or deep rumble will rise up from the earth. If an explosive is lowered. from the basket of the balloon until it hangs a few hundred feet below, and it is discharged with an electric spark from a battery in the hands of one of the aéronauts, there will come to the ears of those above a report like a revolver shot and then a few seconds of silence, followed by a peal of the loudest thunder ever heard. There is no solid background about or above the bal- loonists to produce a rebound of the atmospheric sound wave and the air is more dense below. Thus, when the sound waves penetrate the denser lower strata of. air and then the earth,.the echo produced’ seems to the ears of the occupants of the balloon far louder than the original sound, ee ee 0 Se WHEN THE COW BALKED. On the plantation the dairy hands were accustomed to do the milking, squatting down in a primitive fashion until the owner introduced milking stools along with other mod- — ern improvements. The boy who first sallied forth with y the stool returned bruised and battered and with an empty pail. “I done my best, sah,” he exclaimed. “Dat stool looked all right to me, but de blamedscow'she wouldn’t sit on it.”? ee neat i daineniontn ’ — “ et mais cenit o FL) ee eA Pee in ti ag rese are Ron Thr od Pa hoo¢ man is d ’ the ites (4 st “p ’t on — NEW TIP: TOP. WEEKLY. NEWS ITEMS OF INTEREST. Man One Hundred Yeats Old is Deputy Sheriff. Elk County, Kan., has the distinction of having the old- est deputy sheriff in Kansas. John Munsinger, 100 years old last December, was appointed deputy sheriff by his son, Sheriff Jay K. Munsinger, of Elk County, the first of this year. Since then he has performed the full duties of his office, summoned juries, served subpcénas and war- tants, and made proper return of the papers to the sheriff. The old deputy was born in Wittenberg, Germany, De- cember 10, 1812, He has been an American citizen since 1826, and a Kansan since 1880. He has 114 living de- scendants, among whom are two great-great-grandchildren. Munsinger is still in splendid health, walks briskly, and eats heartily. If he continues to perform the duties of deputy sheriff in his present fashion, he proposes to ask for the nomina- tion of sheriff next time, and will, no doubt, be a candidate against his son at the next primary election. Petmanent Magnets. A recent issue of the British Journal of the Institution of Electrical Engineers contains the lecture on permanent magnets which Professor Silvanus P. Thompson delivered at the meeting of the institution at Glasgow. It occupies more than sixty pages, gives a complete account of pres- _, ent-day knowledge on the subject and points out directions in which further research is necessary. The author shows that the most powerful and permanent magnets are made of steels with about 6 per cent of tung- _ sten and .5 per cent of carbon, and have the ratio of length to breadth large. After forging at as low a tem- perature as possible, the magnets should be heated to 900 degrees C., cooled to 750 degrees C., kept at that for a time, and then cooled off. Hardening is a repetition of this process down to 700 degrees C., at which tempera- ture the magnets are to be plunged into brine at 20 de- grees C, Maturing is done by boiling the magnets for ten or twelve hours. Magnetization is effected by an electro- magnet, and there is some advantage in a few reversals. For extreme constancy, the magnetization may be reduced by 5 or 10 per cent by subjecting the magnets to demagnet- izing forces. Roman Forts for German Pupils. At the order of Emperor William of Germany, and working largely under his personal supervision, some 150 Pioneers of the garrison at Mainz are constructing two _ model “Roman” forts on the Saalburg, which his majesty hopes will render more illuminating to schoolboys their researches into Czsar’s Gallic war. The archeologists are at work a few hundred yards behind the famous old Roman fort, which was itself reconstructed after 1897. Three of the highest classes of the classical schools of _ Frankfurt, Wiesbaden, and other towns of the neighbor- _ hood ‘were present a short time ago at the work. The gang numbers 120, which is the size of an ancient maniple, while 30 men are held in reserve. The work is done with tools, made at the emperor’s order, “after a two-edged kind of hoe, or military ” ' the Roman pattern, spade, held together with rivets instead of nails, axes, pick- axes, and billhooks. One “fort” is already finished. The other is to be about 50 meters on each of its four sides, and will be surrounded with a ditch and with a wall which is made of earth and staves driven upright into the ground by a wooden hammer of the ancient pattern, and bound together with wattle. Holds Locks Too Small. German experts continue to express doubts of one kind or another on the Panama Canal question. The latest writer in a current magazine declares that the canal will be partly antiquated when opened, because. the locks are too small. | A comparison of the Panama locks with those of the new Kaiser Wilhelm Canal shows the length of the Panama locks to be 305 meters, as against 330 for the Kaiser Wil- helm; the breadth 33.53, against 45; the depth 1234, against 13.77. . The writer comes to the conclusion that the future is much more favorable for the Suez than for the Panama Canal, and declares that this may explain the striking fact that England took no part in the more recent competition for building the American canal, leaving the matter en- tirely to France and the United States. Retited Officers May Talk Politics. Retired navy officers are not debarred from taking part in politics, Secretary Daniels believes. The same rule will apply to army officers. Some time ago Senator Johnson, of Alabama, complained that Rear Admiral Wadhams, retired, had been lecturing in Alabama on ja need for a big navy. Indirectly the senator thought this was calculated to help the candidacy of Representative Hobson. He thereupon protested. It is expected now that Secretary Daniels has declined to interfere. An effort will be made to secure legislation prohibiting retirement of officers from political work. Life Kept by Freezing. Recent investigations in the laboratories of the Johns Hopkins Medical school seem to indicate a state inter- mediate between life and death, since life in many organ- \ isms may be suspended by freezing in liquid air, and by ‘other processes, and then may be resuscitated. Bacteria, the lowest plant organisms, have enormous powers of resisting death. Bacteria of various diseases are seen in the laboratory frozen in liquid air at a tem- perature of 360 degrees Fahrenheit. There are instances of the lives of frogs, rats, snails, and fish being suspended by this freezing process, yet on being “thawed out” after several weeks they revive. These animals are perfectly normal when placed in a refrigerating jar filled with liquid air at a certain tem- perature. After a short time the animals appear lifeless. A month later they are removed, and, on being mas- saged, show signs of life, often reviving completely. Recently successful efforts were made “in the medical school to revive the apparently dead heart of an animal. As explained by Doctor Alexis Carrel, who recently lec- 28 NEW TIP tured before the student body here, in about five cases out of ten the heart of a chicken took on renewed energy hours ‘after death. Immediately after death the and preserved. A few hours later it several heart was frozen, was resuscitated by massage. Indians in Baseball, Now that James Thorpe, the Indian athlete, has become a professional baseball player, it is interesting to recall that, famous athletes, very. few aborigines have ever attained fame on the baseball diamond. ’ The names of those who have made theit mark in major-league company are fa- miliar to every boy in the land—Sockalexis, Meyers, Wheat, and Bender. Others have played in minor leagues and have made good records, only to fail when they were tried in the speedier circuits. Among these are Balenti, with Cincinnati last season; Jude and Louis Laroy, of the St. Paul Amer- ican Association team. Laroy, while a first-class minor- league pitcher, has never proved-able to stay with a major- league club, thought it ‘would be a difficult matter to ex- plain why. Balenti received another trial this spring in the major circuit with the St. Louis American League Club, atid some hopes are entertained of him. Bender, Balenti, and Thorpe are all Carlisle products, The Fleet Must Wait. A report cabled from Washington to the effect that work would be rushed on the canal so as to send the fleet through by June has been received at Panama with ridi- cule. It. is said that there will be no chance’ to send ships through the canal before the first of the year, and prob- ably’not until later. Cabinet Officers Get Queer Mail. Melody reached Secretary Houston,, of the department of agriculture, through his mail recently in the guise of three pieces of music, one a love song, the others patriotic in their appeals. Furthermore, one of the world’s dream- ers had sought his support in trying to establish a “world center” for the promotion of broad htmanitarian prin- ciples. A third contribution in the polygot mass of matter was a formidable-sized valume containing a jumbled mass of alleged universal genealogical information, collected from almost every source under the sun, astronomy and mythol- ogy, signs and symbols having been utilized. One palpably spurious and one evidently genuine rfe- quest for financial aid in agricultural work and_several requests for, autographs also came in the day’s grist of mail. The bona-fide request for aid,.which was from’ a Western homesteader’s wife, was answered, although, of course, no money could be sent, as the department has no funds for such relief. Paes Living Cost’s Big Growth. During the latter part of 1912 the cost of living in the United States was higher than at any other time in the last twenty-three years. The bureau of labor statistics has just issued a report on retail prices from 1890 to 1913. The lowest cost was reached in each of the ge eographical di- visions, and in the United States as a whole in 1806. From that date to 1912 the total increase in the cost of living TOP though as a race the Indians have produced many) ‘Of convict life. WEEKLY. per year for a workingman’s family by geographical diyi- sions ,was: North Atlantic, $166; south Atlantic, $152; north central, $187; south central, $186, and western, $152. The approximate cost of a year’s food supply for an average workingman’s family, at the average prices of each year, by geographical divisions, for 1890, 1896 (the low year), and 1912 was: Division. 1890. 1806. 10912. Witsitre PAAR ae ge sien ce bee $310 $300 $466 BOUth: Atlantis eK aes ise ee wanes 274 265 417 Notth: sentra ¢oakusia. eee .« 200 276. 463 SOG: COdtiak ac tered Fes PIO ST ara ar 6. 255 441 Wrestertt: sie cus os 48 ScOM ERO Oe x 7909 277 429 Women Save Town, While their husbands fought a fierce prairie fire which threatened the town of Wing, near Bismarck, N. D., the women of the town formed a bucket brigade, carrying water from the town wells with which to dampen blankets that were being used by the fire fighters. But for their heroic work the town would have been destroyed. Smashes Auto that Would Not Run, . Ina fit of anger because his touring car would not run, Walter Guertin, of Kankakee, IIl., chopped it to pieces and sold the junk for $25. A crowd watched him as he demolished the expensive machine, and one of the spec- tators remarked that the amount of energy he expended in wrecking the stubborn car might have moved it, Hawthorne a Prison Poet. Julian Hawthorne, son of the famous author, No. 3,435 in,the Federal Prison, at Atlanta, is using his position as editor of the prison paper to put into print his impressions Ina recent issue of the paper Hawthorne has a poem inspired by the restless tramping of a convict in the ¢ell above his own. The poem, entitled “Footfalls,” follows: In the cell over mine at night A step goes to and fro, From barred door to iron wall, From wall to door I hear it go, Four paces heavy and slow, In the heart of the sleeping jail, And the goad that drives I know. I never saw his face nor heard him speak; He may be Dutchman, dago, Yankee, Greek; But the language of that prison’d AEP Too well I know; Unknown brother of the remorseless bars, Pent in your cage from earth and sky and stars, The hunger for lost life that goads you so I also know. Of a concert given in the prison the other day, when’ he heard Caruso sing, Hawthorne said: ; “Tt is a terrible audience. No other can be éomiteam with it. Whether by justice of by injustice, they are im hell, and they know its secret.” | Hawthorne describes one consolation of convict. life thus’: “There are consolations in our existence here, a, In-the | : ; celina: nities Sty a ne Se OO. aS nS ae ct 93 ey \ er red iy 4 fe eee the ‘Sidamaie _with the big twirler. press surprise. “speed and the spitter,” will cut loose with an underhand ball. . 18 up to his old tricks. NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. — 29 man’s fancy in the outer world lightly a young turns to thoughts of a new suit of blue serge or black- spring, check, or (vertical) stripe, or the like vain and costly gewgaws. Here, on the contrary, we possess our souls in peace and our’ pockets are unwrung. Uncle Sam, in his simple, undemonstrative way, puts his tailor at our disposal, chooses the goods for us, and pays the bill.” and-white Crabs Drove Them from Island. Showing bites and lacerations all over their bodies as. proof, Paul Rougier and a Samoan boatman named Liga tell an almost unbelievable story of a battle with huge land crabs on Palmyra Island, which is eighty miles from Fanning, a famous guano island of the Pacific Ocean. Rougier and Liga went to Palmyra Island in a catboat for coconuts. They reached the island at the close of a day and it was dark when they landed. They slept on the ground, and the next morning Rougier, who was watching his companion work about a fire, felt something heavy on his arm and the next instant there was a sharp bite into his neck. Attempting to jump up, he discovered he had been attacked by two land crabs, the largest he had ever seen in his experiences in Southern seas. He had hardly recovered from his fright when he saw four or five of the big crabs running up Liga’s body, biting his hands and snapping their long nippers into his neck and face. The men soon found that they were no mat¢h for the crabs and they ran to their boat. The boat, however, was literally overrun with the crabs. They dashed into the water, where Liga succeeded in freeing himself of the crabs. He went to Rougier’s assistarice and cut from his back a crab that had held on tenaciously. They waded along the shore and found what they thought was a quiet place, where both fell asleep, exhausted. When daylight awoke them they were again surrounded by the fierce crabs. Returning to the boat, they cast it adrift, and after several hours’ work with axes drove all the in- vaders overboard. They returned to Fanning Island by easy stages, stopping at islands on the way, and were for some time under the care of doctors at Fanning, which is owned by the Reverend Father Rougier, brother of Paul Rougier. 2", Ed Walsh Wants to Use a Slow Ball. Edward Walsh, the big pitcher of the White Sox squad, figures that he should have something in* his repertoire besides his speed and his spitter. The big fellow is work: ing on a slow ball and an underhand delivery. He de- clares that he will surely use them effectively in, this year’s games, but there ate several other players on the squad who doubt it. Developing a slow ball and an underhand one is.a hobby will probably continue to do so for years to come. Every _ spring he startles the youngsters on the squad by getting _ on the mound and pitching a slow one. If you sit on the bench you will hear the recruits ex- “Why, I thought Walsh used nothing but they will say. Then the big fellow “I didn’t know he had all that stuff,’ they will claim. The veterans sit back and smile. They know that Walsh Just as regularly as spring and the training trip. come ~ Tound, the big pitcher gets out there and mixes his de- ‘ balanced one call was not accounted for. He has been doing it for years, and | a ‘ ih ‘ ya ‘ cae A. ge os eae he ae kabiageees ai oe 3 et ras cae apa Oy livery. And just as regularly as the season starts, the pitcher will come to you and tell you confidentially that he has the slow one and the underhand working finer, and that he will have a lot besides his spitter and the speed. Then Walsh gets in a regular game. He uses the speed and the spitter. He gets the results. The slow ball and the underhand one are carefully put.aside and then for- gotten until the next training trip. Walsh doesn’t probably pitch twenty slow ones in a sea- son. Maybe when the Sox are away in front and there isn’t a chance for them to lose the game the big fellow will try it out. But the moment he gets into a game where he must pitch to win, he stands by the deliveries that have made him. At that, his slow ball isn’t bad. It isn’t tantalizing, like that of Doc White, but it must have something on it, for the minor leaguers couldn’t connect for runs, and about the only way that any delivery can be judged is by the results. Close Basebali Magnates. Some baseball magnates have had a reputation for being close, but it is doubtful that any club ever had the repu- tation which belonged to the old Boston Nationals when they ‘were owned by Soden, Conant, and Billings. That club had a youth named Schwartz, or something like that, playing second base. Schwartz started the season in Bos- ton and lasted until some time in August. He had heard about Soden’s aversion to giving passes, but as an average crowd in Boston that year was about 200, Schwartz thought there ought to be room for a friend of his who went out to the park with him one day. So he went into the office and braced Soden for a pass. “And who are you, young man?” inquired Soden. “Why, I’m a ball player,” replied Schwartz. “You don’t say! And what is your position?” “Second. base.” “Might I inquire what team you. play with?” asked Soden. “Why, on the Boston team—right here,” said the aston- ished athlete. “You don’t say so!” ejaculated the magnate, adjusting his spectacles. “I don’t ever remember seeing you be- fore.” In the back of the old grand stand at Boston there was a telephone. An attendant watched this phone, and every time one of the club officials called a number he was charged with the call, and paid for it at the end of the month. One ‘month the bill came in, and after the books were The manager and players were sent for, but they denied having sneaked over that call. Soden, Billings, and Conant then went into executive session. Each was positive he had not called the mysterious number. “This. extravagance has got to stop,” firmly asserted Soden; “to-morrow that telephone comes out.” ” Lucky Stones. Laugh and scoff all you please, you will not be able to lessen one jot the firm belief of thousands that there is such a thing as a lucky stone. A recent pamphlet issued by the vender of such stones declared to have been gath- eted with many others near Ceylon, India, contains testi- monials from mien of standing, who seem to be convinced that they have the real lucky fascinator with them as 30 NEW TIP constant companion. One enthusiastic stone holder boasts that he has never been without a dollar since he pur- chased the stone and that he has been offered many and many a job where he could not coax a single offer before the stone reposed in his vest pocket. The dispenser of the stones, for $1 each, does not say why he needs to dispose of them for’ a livelihood if he carries them him- self. How Scott Was Found. Exhaustion, not starvation, was the cause of the death of Captain Scott and his companions in the\dash to the south pole, according to Lieutenant Gran, a member of the supporting party which found the bodies. “The end of the party was apparently peaceful. When we came up to the tent in which the bodies lay something seemed to tell us that the end for them had come,” said Lieutenant Gran. “Lieutenant Wright, who commanded our little party, approached the teft first and lifted the flap. Captain Scott lay on his back as if asleep, but outside of his sleeping bag. Doctor Wilson and Lieutenant Bowers were in their sleeping bags, and it was apparent that they had been care- fully wrapped up by Captain Scott, who evidently was the last to die. “Lieutenant Bowers lay on his side exactly as if he were asleep. Doctor Wilson was sitting in a half-reclining posi- tion, his back against the inside. of the tent, facing us as we entered. On his features were the traces of a faint smile, and he looked as if he were about. to awaken from a sound sleep. I had often seen the same look on his face in the morning as he awakened, as he was of a most cheerful disposition. The look struck us to the heart, and we all stood silent in the’presence of death. “While they did not die of starvation, still all their food had given out, and, worst/of all, their fuel. Then it must be remembered that they were experiencing terrible storms. “When we had obtained all the equipment and the rec- ords of Captain Scott, we laid the bodies side by side and said a burial service. Then we removed the poles from the tent and covered the ‘bodies over with the canvas. ‘On top of this we built a cairn of snow and ice fifteen feet high. We took two skis, bound them together in the form of a cross, erected it on top of.the cairn as a last memorial to the dead, and left them where they fell.” “None Hurt”? Amazed Dewey. In spite of his seventy-five years, Admiral George Dewey looked hale and hearty as he sat recently at a dinner in the Willard Hotel, Washington, surrounded by officers , who fought with him at Manila Bay. “A small family party,” the admiral called this gathering to celebrate the naval victory of fifteen years ago. More than twenty officers who served in the engagement were present. ; Admiral Dewey read a poem, written by Edward C. Cur- rany of Pennsylvania, entitled, “Lest We Forget.” Speak- ing of Mr. Curran’s production prior to the dinner, the admiral said: “This poem will have particular interest for us because it sets forth why the battle of Manila Bay was remarkable. It was that, indeed, although, of course, nothing like Togo’s great modern naval victory in the Sea of Japan. I shall never forget the day, fifteen years ago, when the battle ’ couldn’t believe it at first. TOP WEEKLY. was over and the six captains of the squadron cathe aboard the Olympia, one by one. I said to them: ““Well, how about it? How about your men? Are you hurt? Did you come through it all right?’ And when they answered, ‘Not a hurt,’ ‘Not a wound,’ and so on, I just Finally I came to the conclu- sion, and I said: ‘Well, gentlemen, a Higher Power than we fought this battle to-day.’ “And so it was a remarkable battle, for the Spaniards fired twice the number of shots that we did, and we killed and wounded hundreds of the enemy’s men, but they did us no damage, except on the cruiser Baltimore, where six men were injured by the explosion of one of that ship’s shells And, even at that, all six of those men were right back on duty almost immediately.” Pie Prices High, Senators Kick, Insurgency over the question of pie—not political, but actual—is stirring the Senate. While the Senate réstau- rant was “reorganized” along Democratic economy lines and the prices of many of the viands materially reduced, the price of pie per cut remains at 10 cents. 7 “It’s the most important article of food we have,” de- clared a New England senator, “and one that inspires good legislation. It’s an outrage. The price must come down.” The management of the restaurant recently was changed. The feeding problem in the Senate for years has been bothersome, but never before has disruption been threat- ened over the problem of pie prices. Injured, Thinks She’s Gitl Again, Edward Ireland, of Bargaintown, a hamlet eight miles from Atlantic City, N. J., was admitted to a room in the Atlantic City Hospital to see his wife, who about a month ago was knocked down by a Shore Line express near her home and sustained a fractured skull. She hovered between life and death for three weeks, but recently began to improve. “Who are you?” she inquired, when her husband entered the room. “Don’t you know me?” inquired Mr. Ireland. “No, don’t recall having met you,” said the woman. “Was it at the party last week—the one after school closed ?” Mr. Ireland did not answer, but passed outside to the corridor and sent in their five children, whose ages range from three years to fifteen. . The boys and girls clasped her hands and kissed her, but she looked \at them with the eyes of a stranger.. When they departed and the father returned again to the room she said: “It was nice to see some young folks again. children were they that just left here?” Mr. Ireland said nothing, but, heartbroken, went outside and told one of the physicians that his wife did not seem to recognize either him or her sons and daughters. “We feared that,” the doctor said. “When she recov- ered consciousness she began to talk about events of years Whose ago. She fancied herself a young girl, unmarried, and’ not long out of school. We hoped that your presence and that of the children might restore her memory.” The husband, after his early grief had been quieted, sought other means to restore recollection of their mar- riage. He went about the neighborhood and brought to es ced... > be he b 11 c ce sc th su ng ic th; Ne Sl . dr rig thi cof their courtship and honeymoon,. NEW. TIP four persons who had been present at the wedding sixteen years ago. Mrs. Ireland—although these folks had been her most intimate friends at the time of the ceremony and ever afterward—greeted them with the calm politeness she would have used upon meeting entire strangers. When they recovered from their surprise they spoke to her about her wedding. “II married?” she responded, with a laugh. “Not I!” In ‘light-hearted fashion she talked to them about events of the neighborhood in which they had lived: things that happened back in 1804 and: 1895, when they were all young ; dances, parties, after-school frolics. _ Incidents of her own children’s youth, little things. that any mother should know, Mrs. Ireland had not the slightest memory of. And even when her husband talked to her alone and tried to recall the most important happenings she still did not re- the hospital three or member. ' Within a month or so, the doctors say, she will be able to leave the hospital and return to her home. But they hold forth no hope of her memory coming back. And that brings up the questions: Will she go home? Believing that she is still twenty, and unmarried, how is she to be induced to join a man who is, in her belief, an entire stranger? How will she. he'led to assume maternal relations toward her oldest child, who-is fifteen—only five years less in age than she be- lives lierself to be? Will she—despite the fact that she really is thirty-six—conduct herself like a girl of twenty? Mr. Ireland does not know, and the physicians are unable to tell him. Carleton Died Poor, Wil Carleton, the poet, who died recently, left less than nothing, it became known recently through the official appraisal of his estate. The gross assets, including the poet’s library and the copyright on his books, fell $75 short of the amount which the appraiser found necessary to ‘square his account. Yale “Preps” Adopt Knickerbocker Style. A distinct innovation in the line of wearing apparel has been introduced by the senior class of the academy depart- ment, at Yale, who startled the college world by appear- ing in Battell Chapel wearing knickerbockers. After the chapel exercises, the wearers of the revised fashion were photographed on the college fence. The new costume will be continued until the close of the present school year, when the class will be graduated. Members of the other classes have asked permission from _the seniors to copy their rig, and it is likely that it will be given to all except the first-year boys. . Ambidextrous Don’t Dream. _ The ninth triennial congress of American physicians and _ surgeons opened at: Washignton, D, C., recently, with nearly 71,000 medical men in attendance. Before the American Neurclogical Association, one of the branches of the congress, Doctor E. W. Scripture, of ' New York, read an interesting paper on the “Dreams of the Sleep Talker.” Right-handed persons, according to Doctor Scripture, ‘dram with the right hemisphere of ‘the brain because tight-handers use the left lobe of their brain in conscious thinking. Sleep talkers and sleep walkers, he said, are , TOP AVEEREY 31 usually persons who are pronouncedly right or left-handed. Persons who are ambidextrous, or who have cultivated the ability to use either hand with almost equal facility, he said, seldom. dream. The sleep talker, according to Doctor Scripture, often talks of things totally unrelated to the subject of his dreams. Fatigue and nervous conditions, the speaker said, brought about dreams, but the exact conditions under which- the dreaming occurred and the relation of dreaming to the normal brain: functions of the waking human are as much a mystery to-day as they were 5,000 years ago. Swings Himself into Freedom. Bert Spencer, locked in the anteroom of Judge Rooney's court, on the third floor of the Criminal Court Building, at Chicago, recently, tied a rope to a radiator, swung through the open window to another open window of the State attorney’s office, on the second floor, walked past two girl stenographers, several court attachés, and a police- man, and disappeared in the street. Spencer was recently fined $50 for disorderly conduct, and was in court while his attorney was arguing a motion for a new trial. He is supposed to have had the rope hidden on him when he entered court, and to have had a confederate in an automobile in front of the building. When Spencer climbed into the window of the’ State attorney’s office the two stenographéts were too: surprised to do anything. Judge Rooney’s courtroom was the scene of another non- chalant escape two weeks ago, when. two pickpockets got their freedom by walking out of the room past. the same unsuspecting policemen who let Spencer get away. Hold Vaccination Parties. So many people have been vaccinated as the result of the outbreak of smallpox in Stockholm, Sweden, that the sup- ply of vaccine is exhausted. Sufficient vaccine for over 100,000 persons has been ordered from abroad. “Vaccination parties” are now fashionable in Stockholm. The guests are invited to an “at home” at five o’clock, and a doctor arrives and vaccinates them. When this is over the guests dine together. Baseball Aids Arithmetic. Baseball is being used in teaching arithmetic in~ the Washington schools, the teachers applying such problems -as these: “If ‘Chick’ Gandil is at bat forty times and makes tw elve hits, what is his average?” “If the Nationals win eleven games out of fifteen, _— per cent do they lose?” The instructors say the new system is a success: Deeply interested in the National game, the children take teal joy in solving the problems. The same process is utilized in problems of measurement, and the baseball diamond is now one of the commonest diagrams to be found on the black- boards of the schools. To Have Scar Removed, Ortie E. McManigal, confessed dynamiter, plans to: have his appearance altered by surgery when he is released. It is reported his release from the county jail at Los An- geles, Cal, may be given at any time, and McManigal hopes to so changé himself that no one will know him as NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. the man whose testimony sent the McNamara brothers and more than a score of labor-union officials to prison. Detectives say his release will be kept secret to aid him, according to a statement published here to-day. McManigal fell from a moving wagon while a child and the wheel inflicted an injury to his head and left a long scar across his forehead, The marks were used to trace him after the destruction of the Los Angeles Times Build- ing by dynamite.. Doctors have told McManigal that the scar can be removed, and he plans to have it done as soon as he has regained his freedom. Man With Half a Brain, During the Swedish maneuvers a soldier named Blom- quist received a bullet in the head as the result of the awkwardness of a comrade. Trepanning was resorted to, and half of the brain removed. The man was discharged cured, and took his place in the ranks again, but some of his faculties were found to be deficient, and in particu- lar he had forgotten how to read and write. He was dis- charged from the army,.and was made the object of study by some doctors, who—to coin a word—reéducated him. In addition to his pension, Blomquist receives an allow- ance of $250 a year from a learned society, the members of which wish to keep him under observation. The “Astral Year” of 1913. It has long been known that the present year has been regarded by astrologers and mystics of various kinds as one in which events of supreme importance to the world are to take place. The Throne, under the heading “The Astral Year, 1913,” prints an interesting article on this superstition. It says that March 21, the vernal equinox, according to the astral soothsayers, saw “the birth of a new world.” Some remarkable predictions have been made in regard to this year from March 21 to the same period in 1914. Mademoiselle de Thebes declared some time ago by her reading of the stars that this was the year when France would rise supreme. “France,” she said, “is marked out for a glorious role. Once more the tricolor will float over victory on victory. From March 21, 1913, to March 20, 1914, the true astral year, France will have entered into a new era, and will enjoy great hours of feverish enthusi- asm and joy—no more disappointments, no more pessim- ism, and anemia. Mars, the war god, will act upon us, together with the moon; 1913—that is the end of the tunnel, from which we can see the new sun-bathed landscape, the . _ year of the resurrection of French energy.” Madame de Thebes predicted disaster to Germany. “Germany,” she said, “has terror of the year 1913. She must stake her all. The war will be fatal to her. She knows it. She fears it.” She went on to say that after the war neither Hohenzollern nor Prussia would rule— “the days! of the emperor are numbered, and after him all will be changed in Germany. I said the days of his reign, I did not say the days of his life.” Madame de Thebes does'not stand alone. Zadkiel, who claims to base his predictions on correct astrological read- ings, has declared that before the year has far advance: “a sensation will be created in the world because of some astounding reverses suffered to German arms. Another famous French soothsayer, Mademoiselle _ Couesdon, of the Rue de Paradis, who foretold with ex- _ traordinary precision of the dreadful fire at the Charité Bazaar and the Martinique earthquake, has clothed a sim- ilar prediction in rhymed verse. The same prophetess declared that “the Turks will be \ chased out of Europe, and Constantinople will become Christian.” It is said that the kaiser is not by any means disposed to skepticism in regard to-astrological predictions. A Ger- man paper admits that the emperor is superstitious, and refers to a prediction which dates from the thirteenth cen- tury. It was uttered by Herrmann, the Monk, and deals ‘almost exclusively with the Hohenzollern family in these words: “He shall have a prosperous life and enjoy more. than he ever dared to hope; for wonderful things are about to be accomplished and the prince himself will not be able to divine the astonishing growth of the new power.” This ancient oracle paints, however, a-sinister picture in regard to the thirteenth generation. Here is the Latin © verse which, it is said, gives the emperor spasms of anx- — iety : “At length-the scepter is in the hand - him who will be the last of the royal line.” “Bean Ball” Hypnotizes. Manager Tinker, of the Cincinnati Reds, is Ais wor- ried about Frank Chance, manager of the New York. Highlanders, and fears that he will be killed during the coming season if he carries out his announced intention of playing regularly. “age “Chance,” said Tinker recently, “has fallen a victim to the same strange ailment that retired Hughey Jennings — from active participation in baseball. He is, seemingly, hypnotized or fascinated by a fast-pitched ball whizzing along at the level of his head. Instead of switching his head aside or stepping back, Chance deliberately steps for- ward, thrusts his head at the ball, and actually seems to follow the progress of the ball with his skull. “It is not a brain disease. Jennings is surely as brainy as any one since he left.the game, and Chance would be all right if he’d keep off the field, but Jennings to this day, isn’t anxious to face a pitcher, knowing what would probably happen, and Chance should give up th game, just as Hughey did.” Britishets Like Soccer. The hold that soccer football has on the people of Eng- land as a winter sport is shown by the turnouts for th games in the English cup competition. Seventy-one gam in the first two rounds, have been attended by 116,245 peo- ple, and the receipts amounted to $219,180. Twenty-on games in this season’s second round yielded more mone ‘from gate receipts than was paid for the forty-one matche in the first round last year. These realized $100,115, whereas the twenty-one games in the second round thi: year have already beaten this sum by $3,255. The Ashton Villa team has attracted the largest crow in one match, its defeat of West Ham being witnesse 50,000 people, who paid $9,315, but the highest sum $10,440 paid by the 27,974 spectators who saw Sunde ' beat Manchester City. The tourney is an annual ever in which sixty-four of the strongest league teams | pete in succeeding rounds, the losers dropping Oo the winners playing against each other. The final is pla ye in Crystal Palace, London, in April. In Scotland a si series is run every year, === NEW TIP TOP BACK NUMBERS OF WEEKLY SUPPLIED 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. 666—F rank Merriwell’s Theory. 668—Frank Merriwell’s Encouragement. 669—F rank Merriwell’s Great Work. 670—Dick Merriwell’s Mind. 671—Dick Merriwell’s *‘Dip.” 672—Dick Merriwell’s Rally. 673—Dick Merriwell’s Flier. 674—F rank Merriwell’s Bullets, 675—Frank Merriwell’s Cut Off. 676—Frank Merriwell’s Ranch Boss. 677—Dick Merriwell’s Equal. 678—Dick Merriwell’s Development. 679—Dick Merriwell’s Eye. 680—F rank Merriwell’s Zest. 681—F rank Merriwell’s Patience. 683—Frank Merriwell’s Fighters. 684—Dick Merriwell at the ‘‘Meet.” 685—Dick Merriwell’s Protest. 686—Dick Merriwell in the Marathon. 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 tains. 694—Dick Merriwell in Utah. 595—Dick Merriwell’s Bluff. 696—Dick Merriwell in the Saddle, 697—Dick Merriwell’s Ranch Friends. 698—Dick Merriwell at Phantom Lake. 699—Frank Merriwell's Hold-back. 700—Frank Merriwell’s Lively Lads. 701—Frank Merriwell as Instructor. 702—Dick Merriwell’s Cayuse. 703—Dick Merriwell’s Quirt. 704—Dick Merriwell’s Freshman Friend. 705—Dick Merriwell’s Best Form. 706—Dick Merriwell’s Prank. 707—Dick Merriwell’s Gambol. 708—Dick Merriwell’s Gun. 709—Dick Merriwell at His Best. 710—Dick Merriwell’s Master Mind. 711—Dick Merriwell’s Dander. 712—Dick Merriwell’s Hope. 713—Dick’s Merriwell’s Standard. 714—Dick Merriwell’s Sympathy. 715—Dick Merriwell in Lumber Land. 716—Frank Merriwell’s Fairness. 717—Frank Merriwell’s Pledge. 718—F rank Merriwell, the Man of Grit. 719—Frank Merriwell’s Return Blow, 720—Frank Merriwell’s Quest. 721—Frank Merriwell’s Ingots. 722—F rank Merriwell’s Assistance. 723—Frank Merriwell at the Throttle. 724—F rank Merriwell, the Always Ready. 725—F rank Merriwell in Diamond Land. 726—Frank Merriwell’s Desperate Chance. 727—Frank Mervriwell’s Black Terror. 728—Frank Merriwell Again on the Slab. 729—F rank Merriwell’s Hard Game. 730—Frank Merriwell’s Six-in-hand. 751—F rank Merriwell’s Duplicate. 732—Frank Merriwell on Rattlesnake Ranch, 733—Frank Merriwell’s Sure Hand. 734—Frank Merriwell’s Treasure Map. 735—Frank Merriwell, Prince of the Rope. 736—Dick Merriwell, Captain of the Var- sity. 737—Dick Merriwell’s Control. 788—Dick Merriwell’s Back Stop. 739—Dick Merriwell’s Masked Enemy. 740—Dick Merriwell’s Motor Car, 741—Dick Merriwell’s Hot Pursuit. 742—Dick Merriwell at Forest Lake. Moun- PRICE, FIVE CENTS PER COPY. news dealer, they can be obtained direct from this office. 43—Dick Merriwell in Court. 44—Dick Merriwell’s Silence. 45—Dick Merriwell’s Dog. 46—Dick Merriwell’s Subterfuge. 47—Dick Merriwell’s Enigma. 48—Dick Merriwell Defeated. 49—Dick Merriwell’s ‘‘Wing.”’ 750—Dick Merriwell’s Sky Chase. 751—Dick Merriwell’s Pick-ups. 752—Dick Merriwell on the Rocking R. 753—Dick Merriwell’s Penetration. 754—Dick Merriwell’s Intuition. 755—Dick Merriwell’s Vantage. 756—Dick Merriwell’s Advice. 757—Dick Merriwell’s Rescue. 758—Dick Merriwell, American. 759—Dick Merriwell’s Understanding. 760—Dick Merriwell, Tutor. 761—Dick Merriwell’s Quandary. 762—Dick Merriwell on the Boards. 763—Dick Merriwell, Peacemaker. 764—Frank Merriwell’s Sway. 765—Frank Merriwell’s Comprehension. 766—F rank Merriwell’s Young Acrobat. 767—F rank Merriwell’s Tact. 768—F rank Merriwell’s Unknown. 769—F rank Merriwell’s Acuteness. 770—F rank Merriwell’s Young Canadian. 771—F rank Merriwell’s Coward. 72—F rank Merriwell’s Perplexity. 783—Frank Merriwell’s Intervention. 74—Frank Merriwell’s Daring Deed. —F rank Merriwell’s Succor. 76—F rank Merriwell’s Wit. 77—F rank Merriwell’s Loyalty. 778—Frank Merriwell’s Bold Play. 779—F rank Merriwell’s Insight. 780—F rank Merriwell’s Guile. 81—F rank Merriwell’s Campaign. 82—Frank Merriwell in the Forest. 783—Frank Merriwell’s Tenacity. 784—Dick Merriwell’s Self-sacrifice. 785—Dick Merriwell’s Close Shave. 786—Dick Merriwell’s Perception. 787—Dick Mes-iwell’s Mysterious Disap- pearance 788—Dick Merriwell’s Detective Work. 789—Dick Merriwell’s Proof. 790—Dick Merriwell’s Brain Work. 791—Dick Merriwell’s Queer Case. 792—Dick Merriwell, Navigator, 798—Dick Merriwell’s Good Fellowship. 794—Dick Merriwell’s Fun. 795—Dick Merriwell’s Commencement. 796—Dick Merriwell at Montauk Point. 797—Dick Merriwell, Mediator. 798—Dick Merriwell’s Decision. 799—Dick Merriwell on the Great Lakes. 800—Dick Merriwell Caught Napping. 801—Dick Merriwell in the Copper Coun- try. 802—Dick Merriwell Strapped. 803—Dick Merriwell’s Coolness. 804—Dick Merriwell’s Reliance. 805—Dick Merriwell’s College Mate. 806—Dick Merriwell’s Young Pitcher. 807—Dick Merriwell’s Prodding. 808—F rank Merriwell’s Boy. 809—F rank Merriwell’s Interference. 810—F rank Merriwell’s Young Warriors. 811—F rank Merriwell’s Appraisal. 812—Frank Merriwell’s Forgiveness. 818—Frank Merriwell’s Lads. 814—Frank Merriwell’s Young Aviators. 815—F rank Merriwell’s Hot-head. 816—Dick Merriwell, Diplomat. 817—Dick Merriwell in Panama. 818—Dick Merriwell’s Perseverance. 819—Dick Merriwell Triumphant. 820—Dick Merriwell’s Betrayal. 821—Dick Merriwell, Revolutionist. 822—Dick Merriwell’s Fortitude. 828—Dick Merriwell’s Undoing. 824—Dick Merriwell, Universal Coach. 825—Dick Merriwell’s Snare. 826—Dick Merriwell’s Star Pupil. 2 3 4 5 ) 7 8 ‘ ( ‘ ‘ National 827—Dick Merriwell’s Astuteness. 828—Dick Merriwell’s Responsibility. 829—Dick Merriwell’s Plan. 830—Dick Merriwell’s Warning. $31—Dick Merriwell’s Counsel. 832—Dick Merriwell’s Champions. 838—Dick Merriwell’s Marksmen. 834—Dick Merriwell’s Enthusiasm. 835—Dick Merriwell’s Solution. 836—Dick Merriwell’s Foreign Foe. 837—Dick Merriwell and the Warriors. 838—Dick Merriwell’s Battle for the Blue. 839—Dick Merriwell’s Evidence. 840—Dick Merriwell’s Device, 841—Dick Merriwell’s Princeton nents. 842—Dick Merriwell’s Sixth Sense. 843—Dick Merriwell’s Strange Clew. 844—Dick Merriwell Comes Back. 845—Dick Merriwell’s Heroie Crew. 846—Dick Merriwell Looks Ahead. 847—Dick Merriwell at the Olympics. 848—Dick Merriwell in Stockholm. 849—Dick Merriwell in the Stadium. 850—Dick Merriwell’s Marathon. Carlisle Oppo- Swedish NEW SERIES. New Tip Top Weekly 1-—Frank Merriwell, Jr. 2—F rank Merriwell, Jr., in the Box. 3—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Struggle. 4—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Skill. 5—Frank Merriwell, Jr., in Idaho. 6—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Close Shave. 7—Frank Merriwell, Jr., on Waiting Or- ders. S8—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Danger. 9—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Relay Mara- thon. 10—Frank Merriwell, Jr., at the Bar Z Ranch. 11—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Golden Trail, 12—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Competitor. 15—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Guidance. 14—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Scrimmage. 15—Frank Merriwell, Jr., Misjudged. 16—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Star Play. 17—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Blind Chase. 18—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Discretion. 19—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Substitute, 20—Frank Merriwell, Jr., Justified, 21—F rank Merriwell, Jr., Incog. 22—F rank Merriwell, Jr., Meets the Issue. 25—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Xmas Eve. 24—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Fearless Risk. 25—F rank Merriwell, Jr., on Skis. 26—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Ice-boat Chase. 27—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Ambushed Foes. ' 28—Frank Merriwell, Jr., and the Totem. 29—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Hockey Game. 30—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Clew. 31—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Adversary. 32—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Timely Aid. 33—Frank Merriwell, Jr., in the Desert, 34—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Grueling Test. 35—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Special Mission 36—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Red Bowman. 37—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Task. 38—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Race. 39—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Four Miles, 40—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Umpire. 41—Frank Merriwell, Jr., Sidetracked. 42—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Teamwork. 43—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Step-Over. 44—Frank Merriwell, Jr., in Monterey. 45—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Athletes, 46—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Outfielder’ 47—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, ‘‘“Hundred.” 48—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Hobo Twirler, 49—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Canceled Game, Cross-Country If you want any back numbers of our weeklies and cannot procure them from your Postage stamps taken the same as money. Street & Smith, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Ave., New York City