Frank Merriwell
Juniors Hundred

 
 
 

 

 

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i

fs No. 47.

“NEW YORK, June 21,

191 3. Price Five Cents.

Frank Merriwell, Junior’s, “Hundred;”
Or, THE RACE MEET AT BLYFIELD.

By BURT L. STANDISH.

CHAPTER I,
THE ROAD TO BLYFIELD.

Just where the road from Trawlee to Blyfield made a
sharp turn in a grove of thick timber and dense under-
growth, a mounted man drew to a halt. His shifty eyes
searched the near-by thickets keenly, but apparently failed
‘to find whatever they were looking for. Lifting his fingers
to his lips, the man gave vent to a sharp, piercing whistle.

“Now I get you, Steve!” came a low voice from near at
_ hand. .

The words were followed by a floundering among the
bushes, and presently a lad of about eighteen emerged into

he road. He wore a dingy cap, his clothes were of a
shoddy, cheap sort, and rumpled and baggy, and his brown

shoes bore signs of hard usage. Under one arm he car-
ried a small bundle wrapped in a newspaper.

Emerging from the brush like an apparition, the youth
stepped quickly and a little nervously to the side of the
man on the horse. For a brief space the two ecaap:
each other with sharp glances.

. The man had shifty eyes and a face that did not in-
_ spire confidence. The lad’s face was deeply tanned, and,
although handsome in a way, ‘held a secretive expression

hich was not good to look upon. From the corner of
his. left eyebrow and running down upon his bronzed cheek
was an ugly scar.

“Lattimer?” queried the youth, craning his head for-
ward and speaking swiftly. “Lucius Lattimer?”

“Who do you think I am, if I’m not Lattimer?” returned.

: other, with a sly grin. “Wasn’t expecting any one else
come here and meet you, was you?”
ie Well, I’m the fellow who’s been writing you—

me just why you was anxious to meet me out in the woods
instead of in. the town of Trawlee?”

The lad drew back a step and shifted his package un- —
comfortably from one arm to the other. a

“T’ve got my reasons, that’s all,” he answered, somewhat ~
sullenly. “You’re getting. together a bunch of athletes. —
Well, I’m a sprinter, and I know how to play ball. You ©
got all that in my letters.. You don’t have to inquire into
my history in order to do business with me.”

“I reckon,” agreed the man grimly, “it'll be just as well
if I don’t know a devil of a lot about your past. I hear ©
you’re a star man on the cinder path—and that’s what I’m >
looking / for. You might tell me, though, if Byron Trent
is your real name.’

“That’s what you can call me, Lattimer, and that’s all
I'll tell you.” ‘. :

Lattimer peered hard at the scarred, secretive face, ane
drew his own conclusions. These conclusions. may have
done justice to Byron Trent, but they lacked a good deal
of being creditable. Black suspicion, however, in no. wise
influenced Lattimer against the youth.

“All right,” went on Lattimer lightly; ‘ ‘your past is, hone
of my business, and we'll let it go at that. If youre a
crack man at this sprinting game, that’s all I yant to
know. I’ve got a crowd of pretty good amateurs, nd were
going to——”

“Amateurs?” broke in the other.

“Sure. Are you a professional sprinter?”

Trent pondered moment.

“Well, if I am,” he replied, “T’ll never. go up seni ‘
anybody that knows it.”

Lattimer apparently grew anxious on that point.

“Positive of that, are you?” he demanded.

ee OR; jm positive. You're going on a tour with your
amateur’ bunch, I understand?”

 
 

“That's the idea. We're going to tour the West, play
ball, run races, and do everything else in the athletic line
that comes our way.”

“Same as Rufus Horton’s crowd over in Blyfield, eh?
IT mean Merriwell’s Athletes,”

Lattimer flung one knee around the saddle horn.

“What do you know about Merriwell’s Athletes?” he in-
quired.

“T know they put it over your Pirates in a ball game last
Saturday.”

Anger showed in Lattimer’s face and shifty eyes.

“They did it in the last half of the ninth,’ he growled,
“by a fluke. I challenged them to another game, but Hor-
ton wouldn’t have it. Then I put up a sprinting contest
to them, and they accepted, providing the races would be
pulled off in Blyfield. Horton’s outfit, I reckon, was afraid
to come onto the Pirates’ own grounds, at Trawlee. We're
goin’ to win out in that race meet, Trent, and even things
up for losing the ball game. That’s one reason I’m after
you, sec?”

“Ves,” said Trent, “I see. I don’t want to show myself
anywhere, Lattimer, until I get another outfit of clothes.
This rig I’m wearing is in pretty tough shape. Keep me
somewhere out of sight until you can fix me up, and then
Ill get into this. If I can’t run Merriwell off his feet,
you can keep back half my salary.”

“Salary? This is an amateur squad, Trent, and if I paid
salaries I’d put the*whole bunch in the professional class.
Thought you understood that.”

“And I thought you understood what I answered when
you wrote me to that effect. What the deuce did you make
an appointment to meet me for? I’m not in athletics for
my health.”

“Wait a minute, Trent,” interposed Lattimer, as the lad
made a move to turn and walk away. “While I can’t pay
salaries, I reckon I can slip you an honorarium about once
a week that will make this job worth: your time.”

“How, much of an honorarium?”

“That will depend upon how good you ate, You'll have
to show me before I’ll let myself be pinned down to cold
figures.”

“All right,” agreed the other thoughtfully. “I'll show you
what I’m good for when your sprinters go up against Mer-
tiwell’s team. If you don’t come across with what I think
I ought to have after that, why, I can quit yen

“You'll have no reason to quit me if yot’re as good as
vou say you are. Tell me this: Do you know of a sprinter
named.Dart Keenan?”

“T know of him, but I don’t know the fellow personally.
He's an atnateur, and they say he’s a wonder. I read in
the papers yesterday that Horton had secured him, some
time ago, for the Merriwell crowd. But I’ll bet money or
marbles,” added Trent, with scowling confidence, “that I
can run circles around him, wonder or no wonder.”

“Hope you're right about that, Trent,” returned Lattimer.
“Aeenan will be in the races Saturday, and that’s one rea
son why I’m anxious to strengthen our team as much as
possible.”

“Well, Lattimer, I reckon we understand each other. Is
there some out-of-the-way place where I can stay until you

get me another outfit of clothes?”

“There's an old log cabin on the river, about half a mile.
It’s owned by a student at Blyfield Academy,

from here.
but it’s not being used at present.
do for you and-—

I reckon that will about

Keenan, come with me.

 

Dae EOE” NV pao Py

At that instant Byron Trent muttered a startled exclama-
tion and jumped back into the brush. -A pattering of hoofs
along the road, coming from the direction of Trawlee,
had aroused the lad’s alarm, and caused him to leap back

_into hiding,

Trent’s fearfulness of being seen by travelers spoke vol-
umes regarding that past which he was so careful’ to keep
to himself. To Lattimer, this revelation did not seem at
all disagreeable. It was something, perhaps, which Latti-
mer might use, at a later day, in bringing pressure to bear
upon this new recruit for his athletic team.

The approaching rider was hidden by a bend of the road.

When he finally drew into sight he proved to be a young —

fellow in khaki clothes, with a pair of well-filled bags at his
saddle cantle.

The stranger’s shirt, open at the throat, revealed a mus-
cular chest; and, indeed, his whole appearance suggested a
muscular development far and away above, the average.
When he came into view he was looking around him uncer-
tainly, but the moment his eyes fell on Lattimer he seemed
relieved, and quickened the pace of his horse.

“Hello!” he exclaimed, pulling rein at Lattimer’s gee
“I don’t know but I’ve got a bit off my road. There's a
fork about a mile back, and from the looks of things I
must have taken the wrong branch.”

On the lad’s slouch hat had been burned the two letters,
“1D. K.” Lattimer was apt in drawing inferences, and his
thoughts became busy the moment he saw those initials.

“Are you going to Blyfield?” he asked.

The boy nodded.

“Well, this is the right road, although it does look a little
rough for a main-traveled thoroughfare.”

“Are you acquainted in Blyfield?” queried the boy.

“TI know quite a few people in the place.”

“Is Chip Merriwell still there? Can you tell me whether
or not he has left the town with his amateur athletes?”

Lattimer’s first suspicions were being borne out. Here

was a case of luck such as he had not encountered in many

a day. If he was apt at drawing inferences, his wits were
none the less quick in planning to take advantage of them.
And Lucius Lattimer felt no scruples whatever where his
own interests were concerned.

“Well, by gorry!” he exclaimed, feigning surprise. “I'll
bet something handsome that you’re Dart Keenan, the chap
Chip Merriwell was telling me about. Is that right?”

The lad in khaki laughed genially.

“Right as a trivet!” he exclaimed,
Merriwell?”

“Like a top. ,If you want to meet some of the athletes,
cabin called the wikiup, just a little way from here, on the
river,
show you how to go.”

Dart Keenan appeared doubtful.

“Guess I’d better hike along,” he answered,
right road.”

“T don’t know but you might find Chip at the wikiup,”
marked Lattimer.

“By Jove!” murmured Keenan, brightening.
the case, V’ll go you.”

Lattimer slipped out of his saddle and passed his bridle
reins to Keenan.

“Hold my horse a minute, will you?” he asked.

“if this is the

“Tf that’s

a bit of urging. I'll not be gone long.”

“Then you know Chip

A few of the lads are at a Jog +

I was on my way over there, and I'll be glad to,

“Lost
my quirt, and I want to cut a switch. Old Baldy takes quite YA

 

 

 

 
Ares

 

 

 
 

NEW

So, while young Keenan held Lattimer’s horse, Lattimer
pushed into the bushes that bordered the road. There were
black schemes in Lattimer’s mind, and he was not hesitat-
ing to carry them out with his usual resourcefulness.

CHAPTER II.
TRAPPING AN ATHLETE.

“Old Baldy,” Lattimer’s horse, was a spirited animal, and
rarely needed urging. Lattimer, however, had to misstate
the case in ordér to make his present. maneuver logical.
Such a free goer was Old Baldy that his master needed
neither quirt nor spurs.

Some fifteen or twenty feet within the covert of brush
Lattimer found Byron Trent. The lad was crouching on
his knees, and had been listening to all that had passed in
the road.

“What the devil are you trying to do, Lattimer?” he
whispered. :

“Getting ready to put one over’on the Horton-Merriwell
crowd,” was the chuckling answer,

“How ?”

“Never you mind, for now. You'll faa out later.”

“If you're calculating to take this Keenan to the place
where I’m. to wait for a new outfit of clothes,’ was the
sullen remark of Trent, “you’ve got another think coming.
I don’t want to meet people until I’m rigged out dif-
ferent.”

“My word for it, Trent,” returned Lattimer earnestly,
“you're not going to suffer for anything Ido. We'll leave
the road and travel through the woods, toward the river.
Our pace will be slow, and you can easily follow us.
You can wait outside the wikiup, if you feel like it, until
I’m through talking with Keenan. I haven't time to ex-

plain, but you take it from me that this move is all right.”

Trent was anxious, evidently, for further talk, but Lat-
timer had cut his switch, and, without waiting for any-
thing further from the lad, had turned and was pushing
back toward the road.

“T reckon this will do,” said Lattimer to Keenan, swish-
ing the gad in the air. “Now we'll ride for the cabin.
The fellows will be mighty glad to see you.”

“Same here,” cried Keenan, with boyish enthusiasm. “I’ve
heard a lot about Frank and Dick Merriwell, and about

young Frank, the ‘chip off the old block.’ That lad must

be the goods, all right.”

“Now you've said something,’ returned Lattimer, hiding
a scowl as he swung up into his saddle, “We'll take to
the timber, Keenan,” he added. “It’s not far from here
to the fiver bank and the wikiup.”’

It was clear that Keenan was bursting with a desire to
talk about Chip Merriwell, and the crowd of amateur ath-
letes which he and Horton were rounding ‘up in Blyfield
for a summer tour of the West.. Lattimer, however, took
the lead through the timber, and made conversation rather
difficult.

“What.is Merriwell doing in a log cabin on the river?”
called Keenan, as he and Lattimer fought their way through
the brush and trees.

“Y’m not sure we'll find Merriwell,” Lattimer answered,
over his shoulder, “but we'll find an athlete or two. They
just come down the river in canoes, now and then, for
exercise and a bit of an outing. What’s the reason you
didn’t go to Blyfield on the train, Keenan?”

“Well, I live in Lawrencewille, and that’s only nine miles

’

 

   

TIP. TOR WEERLY. 0 A 3

the other side of Trawlee. I’ve been West, all the spring,
and when I got Horton’s letter asking me to join his crowd
of amateurs, I had,to come back to the home town and
get my affairs in shape so I could be away from home for
the summer. I shall have to sell Prince, this riding horse
of mine, and thought I might as well ride him to Blyfield
and sell him there as to wait arid find a buyer in’ Lawrence-
ville.”

This was the extent of the talk between the two. Be-
fore long the two riders emerged upon a road that led to
the wikiup, and a quarter of a mile of fairly good going
brought them to their destination.

At that particular point the bank of the river was high,
and the comfortable log cabin was perched on the crest.
The front door was open, and a young fellow in negligee
shirt, khaki trousers, and canvas shoes was sitting on the
doorstep, basking in the sun.

“Ts that Merriwell?” queried Keenan excitedly.

“No,” answered Lattimer, “that fellow is Brezee, one of
the team.”

Brezee seemed surprised to see Lattimer and his com-
panion. The riders rode to the door and halted.

“Brezee,” and here Lattimer winked expressively to the
youth who had risen in the doorway, “this lad is Dart
Keenan, the new recruit for Merriwell’s Athletes. I met
him in the Blyfield road; and told him that if he’d come
here he’d meet some of the team, and perhaps Merriwell.
Is Chip around?”

Brezee, being Lattimer’s right-hand man, was quick to
infer from these words that there was some sort of a
scheme being worked out. Lattimer had said enough to
give Brezee a tip as to what was expected of him.

“I’m the only one here, Lattimer,’ Brezee answered.
“Merriwell hasn’t showed up. Maybe he'll be along, though.
You’d better hitch, and come in.”

Keenan appeared disappointed.

“T’d better keep right on going, I guess,’ he demurred.
“The quicker I can report in Blyfield the better.”

“There’s no rush,” said Brezee. “Merry and some of the
bunch are out on a hike, and they’re just as liable to show
up hete as anywhere.”

“In that case,” responded fecnat, “T suppose I may as
well stop for a while.”

Both he and Lattimer got off their horses, hitched the
animals at a corner of the cabin, and passed through the
door into the big living room. The place wa§ comfortably
furnished, cool, and inviting. All three took chairs. And
then, as soon as they were seated, Lattimer started to bring
his plot to a head.

“Have you tied yourself up to the Merriwell crowd,
Keenan?” he inquired.

The other’s face expressed surprise as he answered:

“In a way, yes,” he replied. “I wrote Horton that I'd
come on to Blyfield. As soon as I get there Pm to have
a try-out, and if I make good they’re to take me.’ .

“Blamed queer they’d want to try out a chap with your.
reputation !”

“Paper reputations don’t amount to much,” said Keenan,
with a laugh. “It’s only business to find out for yourself
what a fellow can do before you take him on/a team.”

“They're getting up another amateur team over in Traw-
lee,” continued Lattimer, “and it’s a better all-around bunch. —
than Merriwell’s. Why——’

“T’ve heard something about that,” broke, in Keenan;
“not much, for I haven’t been long in Lawrenceville. You

   
 

 

4 NEW TIP

say the Trawlee crowd is better than Merriwell’s. How
ean that be when Merriwell’s nine cleaned up on the Traw-
lee outfit?”

“That was an accident,’ grunted, Brezee, his anger be-
traying him for the moment out of the part he was play-
ing. “Migesiwell and’ his gang couldn’t do it again—for
money.”

Keenan started, and whirled around in his chair.

“That’s queer talk, Brezee,” he exclaimed, “coming from
one of Chip Merriwell’s athletes!”

Lattimer, smiling as genially as he knew how, leaned
forward and dropped a friendly hand on Keenan’s knee.

“My boy,’ said he, “we might as well give you the
straight of this. I wanted to talk with you, and felt that
you wouldn’t give me a chance if I did not adopt a bit of a
ruse. 1 know Merriwell, just as I told you, but I’m not
identified in any way with his outfit of amateurs. On the
contrary, niy name is Lucius Lattimer, and I’m backing the
crack Trawlee squad known as the Pirates. I said you'd
meet an athlete here—and so you have. But Brezee be-
longs to my squad, and not to Merriwell’s

Keenan shook off Lattimer’s hand and leaped to his feet,
flushed and indignant.

“Then you lied to me!” he cried.

_ “Don’t use harsh words, son. I brought you here to
talk with you for your own good. With the Pirates, you'd
have a better time, win more victories, and make more
money than you could possibly do with the Athletes.”

“I’m not out for the money,” flung back Keenan, his
anger growing. “How could I be, and remain an ama-
teur? It’s sport I’m after.”

“Well, even at that, you'll get more sport with us than
you will with the other crowd.”

“Clean sport,” went on Keenan.
what your crowd is, Lattimer,
crooked bunch.”

“Tut, tut!’ admonished Lattimer. “You’re mad,
and you're saying things you're liable to be sorry for,
young man. Join the Pirates. If you don’t like the crowd,
then I’ll release you, and you can go over and join the
Athletes.”

“Why the deuce are you taking so much trouble to get
‘me to join your squad, Lattimer?” queried Keenan, after
a moment’s thought.

“Because you're Class A, son, and we need you.”

“Thanks,” was the sarcastic rejoinder. “Why do you
need me? Didn't you just say that you have a better all-
around team than Merriwell has?’

“Sure,” said Lattimer, with a sly smile and a significant
wink. “We want to keep it so, Keenan. If we can get
you, instead of letting you go over to Merriwell, you’re
not strengthening his team, are you?”

“Lattimer,” declared Keenan, “you’re a skunk! That's
right. I was a fool for coming to this cabin, and I’d never
have stirred a step from the road if I hadn’t thought I’d
find Chip Merriwell or some of his men here. I promised
Horton I’d come to Blyfield, and that’s where I’m going.
Vil see you hanged before I ever have anything to do
with you or your outfit. I wonder if Merriwell knows
what kind of a shyster you are? If he doesn’t, I’ mighty
’-soon tell him.”

He started for the door, only to find Brezee barring
the way.

“Not so fast; Keenan,”
“I don’t have to think it over!

“Tf youre a sample of
the Pirates must be a

now,

said Brezee. “Think it.over.”
Get out of my way.”

   

TOP

WEEKLY.

Brezee shot a glance at Lattimer. The latter shook his
head.

“You've got to stay here, then,” said Brezee, scowling,
“until you change your mind. Youwll have to walk over
me if you get through that door.”

“T guess I can do that, too!”

Keenan’s fist shot: out suddenly. Brezee dodged suc-
cessfully, came up under the fist and. grabbed Keenan
about the waist. There followed a brief struggle, during
which both went to the floor—but with Keenan upper-
mosf.

Meanwhile Lattimer had closed and locked the door. He
whirled around just as Keenan had secured his advantage
over Brezee, and hurried to take a hand in the set-to
himself.

With two against him, the plucky young Keenan was
worsted. Brezee found a rope, and the prisoner’s hands
were tied at his back, and he was dropped roughly into
a chair.

“You've got a nerve, I must say!” panted Keenan wrath-
fully. “Where do you think a move of this kind will get
you, in the long run? You've trapped me, Lattimer, but
you're making a fool play, just the same.”

“We'll see about that, youngster,” Lattimer answered
coolly, stepping to the door and unlocking it,

CHAPTER IIL.
A SCOUNDRELLY PLOT.

Lattimer had fondly hoped that he might secure Dart
Keenan for the Pirates, but Keenan had proved to be a
lad of integrity and had indignantly refused to fall in
with any of his wily schemes. Lattimer’s attempt to steal
Keenan away from Merriwell was an unprincipled pro-
ceeding, but its failure led the Trawlee man into some-
thing that was infinitely worse.

“V’ll be back in a minute, Brezee,’ said Lattimer, pull-
ing the door open and standing ‘on the threshold for a
minute before going out. “Keenan’s hands are tied, and
I guess he can’t. make you any trouble. Hang onto. him,
that’s all.”

“Don’t. fret about that, Lattimer,’ answered Brezee,
with an ugly leer. “If he tries to start anything now he
knows: blamed well he'll get the worst of it.”

Lattimer stepped out of the cabin and closed. the ok
behind him. His eyes began carefully scrutinizing the
surroundings, but failed to locate. Byron Trent. The fel-
low was nowhere to be seen, and a thrill of alarm surged
along Lattimer’s nerves.

He had cast Trent for a very important role in the plot
which had suddenly taken form in his mind;'and if Trent
had been scared away, the plot would go to pieces before
Lattimer had fairly begun to execute it.

Lattimer, annoyed by his fears, moved away from the
cabin. As he moved, he called Trent’s name. Then, sud-
denly, Lattimer’s doubts and ‘fears took wings, for Trent
showed himself from behind a thicket of bushes.

“Vl be hanged if I’m. going into that cabin,”
Trent, “now that that other chap is in there.”

“You needn’t go in, Trent, if you don’t want to,” Lat-
timer answered.

growled

“What did you do to Keenan, anyhow?” went on the

other suspiciously.
“I tried to hire him away from Merriwell.’
“Wouldn’t he stand for it?”

   

 

Seeistecws

sees

Fe Sa ren epee

 
 

    

  

 

 

 

 

 

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. 5

“No, so TPve had to change my plans. I’ve got the
greatest scheme you ever heard of, Trent!”
“Am I mixed up in it?” asked Trent.

“Well, I should say! You're the backbone of the
scheme.”

“Humph! I guess you know, from what I’ve already
said, that I don’t want to be too darned prominent around
here.”

“Y don’t think you'll have any fault to find with this
scheme, Trent, when you know about it. Nobody knows
you, in these parts, and nobody knows. Dart Keenan.
Keenan's a prisoner, and we can keep him safe for sev-
eral days. I'll get you a khaki suit to match his, and
then you can get astride: his horse and ride into Bly-
field.”

“And. get pinched for being a horse thief! Nay, Hen-
riette.”

“You'll not have any trouble,” continued Lattimer, some-
what impatiently.

“No?” said Trent sarcastically. “How do you figure
it, when a fellow by the name of Trent rides into Blyfield
on a horse belonging to another chap by the name of
Keenan?” *

“You're away shy on the main part of the proposition,
Trent. You're to play the part of Dart Keenan.”

Trent stifled a gasp of surprise.

“Fine—I don’t think!” he exclaimed. “That Chip Mer-
tiwell is bad medicine, and I'll bet he can’t be fooled.”

“Now, don’t be am idiot!” snarled Lattimer. “No one
in Blyfield knows Keenan, and it will be easy sailing for
you.” :

“Suppose I go,’ hesitated Trent, “and suppose no one
finds out that ’'m not Dart Keenan. What then?”

“Well, Keenan is on his way to Blyfield to report to
Merriwell for a try-out. If’ he makes good, he’ll be
taken on the team for this race meet Saturday. You'll
now go to Blyfield in Keenan's place, you'll make good,
and they'll have you in the running, the last of the
week.” Lattimer drew down the lid of one eye in a sly
wink. “Everything will be dead easy, after that,” he
finished.

“Hanged if I get you,” muttéred Trent. “Come across
with just what you’ve got in your mind, Lattimer.”

“I hope to thunder,” grunted Lattimer, “that you're not

so slow, with your feet as you are with your head. As

Dart Kéenan, you're going ‘over to Blyfield and join
Merriwell’s Athletes. Get that?”

"Sire,

“There will be a hundred-yard dash, a hurdle race, and
a mile run between the Athletes and the Pirates, next
Saturday. As Keenan, a crack amateur runner, you'll
have a place in ‘at least one of these three évents.”

“Most likely—if I can fool Merriwell into thinking I’m
Keenan.” ;

“You can—he ain’t so much. Well, Trent, while you're
apparently one of the Athletes you'll really be one of the
Pirates, see? I’m paying you, mind.”

“’m next to that, of course,” said Trent, “and what
I’ can’t understand is this: Why the deuce do, you want
me to get into the game and work against you? If Mer-
riwell enters me in one-cf. those three races, it’s a cinch
that. | finish first. You’re going to all this trouble just
to put me where [’ll beat some of your Pirates.”

Lattimer drew back and stared hard at Trent. It

 

amazed him to think that a young fellow could be so
dense.

“I hope your intellect ain’t so feeble as it seems to Be,”
he muttered. “Your business, Trent, will be to throw the
particular race in which you are entered. As soon as I
find out what that race is, I’ll enter my best amateurs in
it, and you'll see that one of them breasts the tape ahead
of you. Get me?”

Trent’s face had cleared, only to cloud over again.

“Sure I get you. But suppose’ Chip Merriwell is in that
race with me? He's the star of that Horton bunch. I
can run away from him, but ’H gamble you haven’t got
any other man that car. So, if Merry happens to be in
the event I’m in, you'll lose, Lattimer, no matter what
To."

“If you're as. good as you say you are, Trent, Mefri-
well won't be in the same race you’re in. He's a cratk at
pretty nearly everything in the athletic line, just as you
say, but these are all races, and Merriwell will divide up
his fastest men among the three events. You'll have every-
thing your way in the particular race you're selected to
run. I’m just as sure of that as I am that I’m alive, —
this minute.”

“Well, let it go at that. I’m to throw the race, and
the Pirates are to win. Where are you to make anything,
Lattimer, and what am I to get for taking all the risk?”

“Tf possible,” and a black scowl crossed Lattimer’s face,
“T want to clean up on that Blyfield crowd and get even
for losing that ball game. What’s more, I want to clean
up on some of their kid-glove sports. I lost a lot of
money on that ball game last Saturday, and if I can count
on you to throw a race at the meet, I'll get back all I
lost—and a lot more. Understand?”

A cunning look flashed in Trent's face.

“I’m next to you bigger’n a wolf, Lattimer!” he ex-
claimed huskily. “I see your dodge. You’re playing this
amateur-athletic racket for all there is in it. You're on
the make. When you find out what race ’m to take part:
in, you'll go back thé Pirates in that race to the limit.
That right?”

“You get the idea.”

“But? understand that Merriwell and his bunch don’t
do any betting?”

“They don’t, but ’ll get down a few thousand with some
of the Blyfield sports. That can be done on the side, you
understand, and neither Horton nor Merriwell can help
themselves. All I want is to be sure of a cinch, and then

Pll turn in and make a big killing.”

A greedy light came into Trent's eyes.

“I see,” he murmured.

“I happen to know that Dart Keenan is being counted
upon by Horton and Merriwell for the events next Satur-
day. They'll play you up for all you are worth, Trent.
This is a chance of a lifetime. Luck came my way in-
great shape when chance threw young Keenan into my
hands. To think that he should,come blundering along
the road to Blyfield, just as I happened to be there talk-
ing with you! It’s almost too good to believe.” Latti-
mer grinned with great satisfaction and rubbed his hands..
“I’ve made the most of the opportunity,” he finished.

“How much do I come in for?” demanded Trent.

“How much do you think you ought to come in for?”
asked the other cautiously. :

“Five hundred plunks,’ was the reply, “and not an 9

ornery cartwheel less.”

 

 

 
  

“You’re a robber!” muttered Lattimer.

“Tam, eh? Then we're two of a kind. All you'll have
to do will be to put down a bet for that amount for me.
Just remember, please, that if I don’t run and throw the
race, you don’t get your chance.’ How about it?”

“You're taking advantage of me,” said Lattimer slowly;
“but what you say goes: Do your work properly, that’s
all, and I’ll see. that you have your honorarium.”

“Good!” ‘Trent ‘seemed highly pleased over the pros-
pect of this crooked transaction. “How am I to get away
from the Merriwell crowd after I make the Pirates a
present of the race?” he went’on, looking a bit worried.

“You'll have to be foxy in the way you peter out,” sug-
gested the other. “Can’t\you-stumble and pretend to go
lame? Work ‘it that way, lie low until after the bets
are all paid, then sneak out of the Merriwell camp and
come over to mine.”

“There’s a big risk,” falteted Trent.

“Maybe; but ['m paying you for it.”

“Well, I’ll stand to the agreement. You'll get me that
outfit of clothes?”

“Sure. The clothes will be here before evening. I
reckon, if I hurry, you'll be able to get into the clothes,
mount Keenan’s horse, and reach Blyfield in time for
supper.”

“That will do.
cabin where you're keeping Keenan.
woods, around here.”

“Just’ as you please about that.”

Lattimer faced around and made his way back to the
cabin. He stayed inside the structure only long enough
to whisper his arrangement with Trent to Brezee, and then
he reappeared and mounted his horse. As he spurred
off in the direction of the road to Trawlee he paused for
‘a final word with Trent.

“Play fair with me, Trent,” he said threateningly, “or
you'll be sorry for it. You’ve got a past, and I'll dig
it up and hold it over you—if you try to double cross me.”

“I’m trusting you, aint 1?” answered Trent. “You're
posing as the backer of a bunch of amateurs who are out
for clean sport—but it’s dirty” work you’re doing. While
you’re holding something over me, Lattimer, Beas forget
what I’ve got up my sleeve.”

For an instant wrath flamed in Lattimer’s face. He
seemed on the point of saying something, but smothered
_ the inclination. The next moment he shook out his reins
and started along the road at a gallop.

~Mearwhile I’ll hot show myself in that
Vl hang out in the

CHAPTER IV.
CONCERNING THE RACE MEET.

“T dori’t like the idea, Rufus.”

it was young Frank Merriwell who spoke. In the
library of the Horton home, where most of the inter-
‘views relative to the Athletes took place, Frank and the
Yale man were having a rather Spirited exchange of ideas.
_ Horton, merely because of his love for athletics, had
conceived the idea of touring the West with a squad of
crack amateurs. The national game was to figure promi-
nently in the Athletes’ schedule, but the team was to be
prepared to accept challenges in any branch of outdoor

sport that might come their way.
Merry, and Merry’s chum, Owen Clancy, had done“splen-
did service in getting the squad together. Merry was the

captain, and the crowd was known as “Merriwell’s Ath-

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

letes.” The very name of Merriwell was a drawing card,
and from such a team and such a captain great things
were expected. As captain, with the best interests of the
Athletes at heart, Merry was now expressing himself
rather vigorously.

“T’m sorry you don’t like the notion, Chip,” said Horton,
who had the highest respect for Frank’s prowess and
judgment, “but I don’t see how the matter can be helped.
I have accepted Lattimer’s proposal for three races for
next Saturday. I know I should have conferred with you
before putting myself’on record, but Lattimer called me
up on the phone from Trawlee. He was boastful, as
usual, and he said things that rather put my temper on
edge. I said that-if he wanted to leave the selection of
events with us, and/to bring his men over to the academy
athletic field next Saturday afternoon, he’d find us ready
to run his crowd off their feet. And that,” finished Hor-

,

‘ton, “is the way the matter stands.”

“We've had experience enough! with Lattimer, Rufus,”
went on Merry, vastly troubled, “to know that he’s ‘any-
thing but square. He’s a gambler—a professional gambler
—and he’s not in amateur athletics, for the good of the
game. He’s on the make, that’s a cinch, and he’s not at
all particular what he does.”

“He wants satisfaction, as he calls it, for losing the ball
game.”

“Maybe that’s what he says, but [’ll het there’s a trick
in it somewhere.”

“Trick or no trick, Chip, ’m sure our hate can do up
the Pirates. You'll make the events, next Saturday, three
straight for our side.” ‘

“T hope-so,”
to meet the Pirates again.”

“We're to meet them,” said Horton decidedly, “and that’s
settled. We can’t let people think that Lattimer and his
outfit have got us scared. That ball game was close, and
it was won in the ninth. ‘There are some, I’ve heard, who
think that Lattimer’s crowd is a shade better than our
team. If we refused to meet them, a whole lot more peo-
ple might think the same thing. Before we start on our
tour, Chip, it’s a good idea to settle these little questions
that are batted up to us right at home.”

“Probably you’re right,” admitted Frank, '“and if these
contests were with any one else I’d not have a word to
say. But I don’t believe in having much to do with a
crooked bunch like the Pirates.”

“Don’t make the mistake of thinking that all the Pirates
are crooked, just because we know that Lattimer is,” urged

‘Horton.

“T’m not thinking that,” protested Frank. “There are a
few in Lattimer’s crowd who are all right, but every last
one of them is under contract—and the contract is in
writing. Plainwell is straight, and a good, clever chap;
there are others, though, whose very narhes give them
away. ‘Chet Brezee, Lattimer’s right-hand man, we know

to be a contemptible skunk: He blew in here, while under —

contract to Lattimer, and joined the Athletes, just to make
trouble and get some of our fellows away from us.”

“Tt’s. ‘like master, like man,’ so far as Brezee is con-
cerned,” struck in Horton.

“Then,” proceeded Frank, “there are Bill Trott, Sam

Sinkers, ‘Flick’ Hedges, and ‘Bink’ McGinn. They say
there’s nothing in a name, but I’ll be hanged if those nick-
names have the right sort of sound to me. I'll bet that
they belong to fellows who'll stand any sort of skull-

\

 

returned Frank slowly, “if we’ve really got

 

ee

de Sabie

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

»and to doa

 

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duggery on Lattimer’s part and lisp a whisper
about it.”

“Even so, Chip,” atid the Yale man smiled confidently,
“we can keep our eyes out for underhand work and show
this unsavory squad that clean athletics will always win out
against the other sort.”

Frank got up from his chair and paced the room

thoughtfully. Horton watched him with kindly eyes in

never

_ which were reflected the admiration which he had come.

to feel for the son of the best all-around athlete the coun-
try had ever known—an athlete, by the way, who had been
the friend and idol of Rufus Horton at Yale.

“Just roaming around the West and winning or. losing
ball games or other athletic events,” suggested Horton, “is
the least of our coming work, Chip. We must expect to
run up against all sorts of teams, and we're not responsi-
ble for what the other fellows do, but for the way we
carry ourselves. It will be fine discipline—sticking to our
own honorable ideals and. working through our schedule
of events with clean, snappy work. More, it will. be an
object lesson to those who are inclined to smudge honest
sport with low trickery and questionable methods.” The
Yale man grew enthusiastic as he added: “Um expecting
Merriwell’s Athletes to make a big name for themselves,
lot in forwatding the popularity of clean ama-
teur athletics. With you to the fore, my iad, | have not a
doubt as to what will happen.”

Frank flushed. He was thinking of his father, in far-
away Bloomfield, and how he had fought with heart and
soul for all that was square and clean in sport. Now, in
a way, Rufus Horton was making it possible for young
Frank to follow in the honored footsteps of his father.
The same problems which, in years past, had confronted
Merriwell, senior, would come for solution to his son.
And it was up to Frank to prove his worth by winning as
his father had done.

Here, right at the beginning of the active work of Mer-
riwell’s Athletes, the unprincipled Lucius Lattimer had
intruded. While Frank hated to have anything to do with
the man, whom he knew to be an tinscrupulous scoundrel,
was it not his duty to lead the Athletes against him and his
Pirates? Victory would be all the more alluring and
worth while if crooked sport was worsted by clean ath-

 Tetics,

Frank whirled suddenly and held out his hand to
-Horton.

“Rufus,” he cried, “you’re right. It isn't tackling the

easy things that count and help a fellow to be strong, but
buckling in against the hard problems and. getting .a
strangle hold on them by honest, clear-headed work. We've
shown Lattimer what we can do at baseball, and now we'll
give him a sample of our ability on the cinder path.”

“That’s the talk, Chip!” exclaimed Horton heartily.
“Now you're really and truly the son of: your dad, and a
chip off the old block.. I was sure you’d see this thing
with my eyes if you only had a little time to think it
over.”

“Sprinting, of course,” went on Frank, resuming his
chair, “is different from this diamond proposition. 1 know
what our fellows can do with the horsehide, but I’d like
to know more about what they can do with a hundred
yards, the mile, and the hurdles. This Dart Keenan, I
believe, will be our best bet—and he hasn’t reached Bly-
field yet,”

“He'll be along very soon; if not to-day, then to-mor-

       

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WEEKLY, -
j

row. Anyhow, in ample time for Saturday And he’s a

wonder, Chip! I get that pretty straight. He'll strengthen

the squad immensely.”

“I’m counting on him a lot. Suppose we have a hun-
dred-yard dash, the two-twenty hurdles, and a mile run?
That will give you scope and variety. Even before we
have our trials I can almost pick Hop Wah for the
hurdles, Rodno for the hundred yards, and——”

He paused.

“And yourself for the mile run,’ finished Horton, smil-
ing. “You've got to take that, Chip, and’ it’s a foregone
conclusion that the mile is ours.’

“I hope you're right, and that [ll not disappoint you.”

“No chance!” declared Horton, with supreme confidence.
“Ate you sure Rodno can do the hundred yards better than
any of the others?”

“He’s mighty fast, I’m telling you!. But, of course, I’m
not sure of anything until I give the whole team a try-
out. We'll see about that later.”:

Frank looked at the clock, whistled, and made a grab
for his hat.

“If there’s nothing more, Rufus,” he continued, “I guess
I'll hike. It’s close to supper time, and I want to put in
this evening with the Athletes. We've got a lot to do
between now and Saturday.”

“Just a minute more, Chip,” interposed Horton. “You've
got Thursday and Friday ahead of you—and you had no
more time than that to get ready for the ball game. But
preparations for the sprinting will be easy, compared with
what you were up against last week. All our boys are
working together in fine style, and these race
exception of the hurdles—will have three entrants from
each ‘team. Lattimer suggested that.” '

“Then he had a reason. I suppose we'll score by points,
and at the end of the meet the team with the most points
will be the winner?”

“That would be the usual way of deciding the winner,
I suppose; but Lattimer wants each race to go to the man
that finishes first, and those finishing second and third
not to be considered at all in the summing up. This will

5

                

‘lrelp, for, if you are in doubt as to the sprinting abilities

of some of our crowd, you can enter three ‘of the most
likely ones for each of the two straight runs, so if one
isn't what he ought to be there will be two more to jump
in-and save the event. Then, too, accidents may happen.”

“Pm looking for ‘accidents,’”. Frank answered, “with
Lattimer against us. I don’t know why, Rufus; but I’ve
got a hunch that he’s putting up a dodge of some kind.”

“Well, if he is, the dodge won’t get him anywhere.
But don’t anticipate trouble, Chip. I find it’s a pretty
good plan not to cross any bridges before you get to
them.”

“{n a hundred-yard fash, or a hurdle race, or even a mile
run, Rufus,” returned Frank, with a. Jaugh, * ‘you haven't
much chance to take the measure Of a bridge before you
cross it. But, of course, we’re going into this race meet
with the determination of taking two events out of three
if-——

“No,” broke in Horton,
straight.”

“Are we?” smiled Frank. “Well, I’d like to have it that
way, but the day is ours if we take two. of the contests.
I. suppose Lattimer will be on hand. with his ‘roll, ag
usual?”

Horton frowned.

“you're going to: take three

\

   

 

 

 
‘NEW

“He'll make some bets, I suppose,” he answered, “but

we can’t help that. Now—~’

There was a knock on the door, and a servant aorneree

and announced two callers.
_ “Mistah Clancy is hyah, and he done bring a new re-
cruit fo’ de Athletes, Mistah Da’t Keenan, sah!”

“Dart Keenan?” cried Merry, all enthusiasm in a mo-
ment. “Bully! Make it three. straight, Rufus! With
Keenan in the squad it looks like a cinch.”

- “Send them up, Mose,” said Horton, almost as much
wrought up by the timely arrival of the new recruit as
Frank. was.,
“Yassuh,” answered the grinning Mose, and vanished
from the doorway.
“This is luck, Rufus!’ salar raitead Frahk, and sat dedore
to wait expectantly for the coming of Clancy and Keenan.

CHAPTER V.
‘ THE COUNTERFEIT.

Owen Clancy was first to enter the library. His homely,
freckled face was fairly glowing. He bowed Jow, and
waved one hand elabarately.

_ “Friends,” said he, “allow me to announce Dart ected:
Price of the, Cinder Path and Star of the Straightaway !
Also, he has the reputation of darting over the mile like
a streak of greased lightning, and showing his heels to all
amateur comers in the Marathon. He just rode in on

_ horseback, and I snatched hinr out of the saddle and hustled
him tight over here. He’s a keen un; take it from me!

Dart, shake hands with Rufus Horton, Yale man, lover of

clean sport, and financial backer of Merriwell’s Athletes.

Also, give greeting to Merriwell, the younger, a king in

‘the realm where you are a prince—but, never mind!
‘There are only three Merriwells, and they were born to

- the purple. The rest of us simply acquire it.”

Horton and Merriwell were looking at a fine, upstand-
ae chap in khaki clothes, a lad whose bronzed face was a
trifle pale and marred with a scar that showed redly
against his cheek.

“Glad to meet you personally, eens,” came heartily

rom Rufus Horton, as he arose and took the newcomer

by the hand. “We have ‘formed a high opinion of you
rom. your correspondence and from other information
which has drifted our way.”

‘You're just the chap we want, old man!” cried Merry,
grabbing Keenan’s hand the moment Horton, released it.
“How are you feeling?”

“Fit as a fiddle,” was the reply.

Some of Keenan’s restraint appeared to vanish under

e spell of the joyful greeting accorded him. He became
e at his ease, and his eyes wandered critically over the

the, muscular form of Merriwell.

: ‘He's sizing you up, Chip,” remarked Clancy, sith a
broad grin. - “That's the way with an amateur athlete

ien he comes company front: with you for the first

He turned on Keenan, who, in some embarrass- —

ment, had shifted his gaze from Frank. “What do you
think of Chi- “Melly, as Hop calls him?” Neca
oks | to me,” answered Keenan, smiling, “as though
was all to the good, and then some.”
‘Discovered !” cried the red-headed chap, irrepressible
é Chip is discovered. Good eye, Dart!”

‘Sit down, Keenan,” said Horton, resuming his own
not ae re ea Rat fellows date their

j

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TIP TOP WEEKLY

headquarters at the Borden House, and it’s nearly time
I'd like just—

for supper at the training table, over there.
a few words with you before you leave.”
Again the restraint showed itself in Keenan’s manner.
He shot what seemed to be a startled look at Horton,
lowered himself into a chair, and fumbled his slouch hat
nervously.
“You came from Lawrenceville on horseback?” went on

the Yale man, trying to be as friendly as possible, and so

put the stranger lad at his ease. ae
“Yes,” was the answer.
“How did you leave everything in the home town?”
“Certainly,” was the confused answer; then, with sree
nervousness, “I mean, all right.”
“Why didn’t you come on the train?”
“Well, you see, I’ve got to sell my riding horse, and I
thought I could ride him to Blyfield and sell him here just
as well as in Lawrenceville.”

“If he’s a good horse, Keenan, I’ll take him off your a

hands myself.”
“He’s a good horse, but I guess I won’t let go of alien

till you give mé a try-out, and find whether or not you ©
want me on the team.

I may,” and here Keenan smiled
a little dubiously, “have to ride him back, you know.”
“Not much chance of that,” said Horton encouragingly..
“Hardly,” seconded Merry, with a laugh.
“I should say not!” put in Clancy. “We need you for.
Saturday, Keenan. That’s when we, show the Lattimer —
crowd where to get off, you know.”

est
wh

“z

Ps

“Haven't you got some good sprinters in your cate fens

queried Keenan, with a quick show of interest. se
“Not so many, Keenan,”
can use more.”
“Wonder if there are any Lawrenceville folks in Bly
field?” | cea i
“Don’t think so,” said the Yale man. “But you're ance
friends, my boy, if that’s what you’re thinking about.”
“I’m used to being among strangers, so far as that goes.
I've been away from Lawrenceville a good while, as I
guess you know. I only came on there to settle some of

my affairs for the summer—so I’d be foot-loose for the
In case I make good,

tour, if you’re going to want me.
am I to sign a contract?” ae
“We have no written contracts, Keenan,” returned Hor.
“With us, a fellow’s word is as good as his bond
If it isn’t, we don't want him.”
“That’s square.” | i
“We all try to be square. Clean sport, and plenty of it
is the slogan of Merriwell’s Athletes. On the cinder pa a

to-morrow there'll be some elimination tests. for the work

Saturday. But don’t let the try-out worry you, Keenan
You'll find our rane Chip Merriwell, a fine fem to
get along with.”

“I’m going to’ do my best,” retpined aint but | ‘cua .
a

rounded up a great crowd of amateurs here, and may be
my best won’t = good pnt i

make a hit with Merry. Truth to tell, at the firetither
was something about the fellow which Frank did not par-
ticularly fancy. Not that his physical development was
not all that it should be, for he looked the athlete fron
head to foot. Perhaps it was the air of constra
confused manner, or the my scar that had esi th

answered Merry, “but that we |

 
4

 

Anite spe spas

 

N

 

ever, Frank’s attitude changed as Keenan’s modesty began
more and more to show itself.

' This was the one point in which a rank ‘counterfeit
was so playing himself up as to give the ring /of true
metal. Lattimer had counseled this, during his final inter-
view with the supposed Keenan, for well the Trawlee man
knew that a bragging pose on the part of the counterfeit
would make him disliked not only by Merry but by all the
rest of the rival athletes as well.

After a few more remarks, calculated to put Keenan
still further at his ease, Horton allowed the three lads to
leave: Just as they took their way out of the house,
Mose, the old servant, was announcing another {caller to
his master. :

“Dar’s anothah man waitin’ in de pahlah, Mistah Ho’ton.
I'd ’a’ done brung him up only I knowed you-all was busy
wif dem baseball boys,”

“Who is he, Mose?”

Mose presented a card.

“Strangeh in town, Mistah Ho’ton,” he observed; “least-
ways, I ain’t nevah seed him in dé place befo’.”

“Martin Hoover,” was the name on the card. Down in
one corner of the bit of pasteboard was the added infor-
mation: “Representing Lanergan’s Detective Agency,
Denver, Col.”

Horton stared at the card, and whistled softly.

“Haven’t an idea what this gentleman can want with
me, Mose,” he remarked finally, dropping the tard on his
desk, “but show him up and I’ll find\out what he wants.”

Hoover proved to be a small, catlike man, with a thin
face and extraordinarily keen eyes.

“T'll not take up much of your time, Mr. Horton,” said
he briskly. “You can tell me in a word what I want to
know. On your athletic team have you a’youngster named
Nathan Ledyard?”

“No,” answered Horton.

“At last reports, Ledyard was traveling under the name
of Byron Trent. Do you know of any lad around here by
that name?”

IG

“Another chance gone glimmering!” muttered Mr.
Hoover, apparently to himself.

“I gather that you are/a detective?” queried Horton.

“You’ve heard of Lanergan, I guess? Well, I’m one
of his men. My call here is in strict confidence. I don’t
want it to be known that I’m around.”

“IT see. Well, I’ll not talk about it, Hoover. I should
like to know, though, why you have come to me in this
matter? I am getting together a team of young fellows
who have made good as amateur athletes, but they’re all
straight and clean. It is not at all flattering to-have you
investigate our crowd in the hope of finding a criminal.”

“The best of us,” remarked Hoover, “are imposed on
sometimes.”

“That’s true. Give me a description of this Nathan
Ledyard, otherwise Byron Trent. I’m pretty sure I don’t
know anything about him, but I’d like to hear what he
looks like.”

“All I know, just now, is that he’s seventeen or eighteen
years old, that he’s an athlete, and that he has come in
this direction to join a team of amateurs. I’ll have more
information about him just as soon as the agency can
pick it up. For the present, I’m going it blind, as you
might say.” ;

“That description might fit a good many young fellows.

Wot Er gee

 

NEEKLY., 9

 

Too bad a lad of that age should go wrong! What has
this Ledyard done?”

“Crooked athletics. He was hooked up with a tinhorn
who went into various towns and arranged fake racing
contests—swindling a lot of simple tradesmen out of a

- bundle of money. One of the victims asked Lanergan

to take the matter up. Serious offense. Conspiracy to
defraud, ,and all that. Means the ‘pen,’ if Ledyard is
caught.”

“Then,” exclaimed Horton vehemently, “I hope the fel-
low will be caught. I have no sympathy with any one
who drags sport in the mire. We are very careful, though,
in choosing athletes for our team. We know pretty well
what they are before we go very far with them.”

“Sure!” said Hoover, nodding.

“There’s another team of amateurs over at Trawlee.
Have you been there?”

“No,” and the detective showed considerable interest.
“Who’s backing that team?”

“A man named Lattimer.”

“Lucius Lattimer?” asked the other.

“Yes. Do you know him?”

‘“T should say; and I don’t know anything good of him!
That’s a great tip, and I’ll hustle right over to Trawlee.
Obliged to you, Mr. Horton. Sorry to intrude. . Good
day !”

As briskly as he had come into the. room, Martin
Hoover now departed, and Horton could hear his swift
footsteps receding rapidly along the walk in front.

“Thank Heaven,” muttered Horton, “all our boys are
the right kind! I. hope Lattimer hasn’t had anything to
do with this fellow Hoover is locking for.”

CHAPTER VI.
PICKING THE WINNERS,

Dart Keenan seemed to “take” very well indeed with
the rest of the Athletes. Arlo Pennyworth, catcher on
the nine, seemed a trifle “offish,” but, then, he was a chap
who was apt to have opinions of his own, and to hang
to them obstinately. He had nothing to say against
Keenan, and he tried to be friendly, but there was a re-
serve in his manner which those who knew him were
quick to see.

Stranger that he was, Keenan’s reputation was the thing
which, just at present, gave him his standing. He made
it a point to scrutinize keenly each member of the team,
and there was a good deal of quiet joking as he took
the lads, one by one, and measured them with his eyes.

Hop Wah, the phenomenal Chinaman, was evidently an
object of much speculation on Keenan’s part. Perhaps it
was the novelty of finding a Chinese athlete, not only
respected, but on friendly terms, with a lot of American
youngsters, that attracted Keenan’s attention.

Next after Hop Wah, Villum Kess, the chubby Dutch
outfielder, appealed to the latest retruit. Villum’s mixed
English was sometimes very refreshing, and he was so
plump that his ability as a sprinter was openly ques-

‘tioned. Ever since it had been settled that there was to be

a race meet with the Pirates, Villum had been clamoring
to-be one of the Athletes’. champions.

Following supper, on the afternoon Dart Keenan had
reached Blyfield, Merriwell gathered his team into a pri-
vate room of the hotel for a talk.

He announced that three races were to be run against

    

         
   
  
  
   
 
  
  
  
   
  
    
  
  
   
 
  
  
   
   
   
   
  
 
   
 
  
 
   
  
  
  
   
    
   
   
  
  
   
  
   
   
    
  
   
  
   
   
    
 

 

IO NEW: TIP? TOP-WEERLY,
the Pirates on the following Saturday afternoon, and — be in the way as he went for the next one. He got to the
that he had'selected for thé events a mile run, a hurdle second hurdle on the wrong foot, but made the jump

race, anda hundred-yard dash. Three of the Athletes
would be entered for the hundred yards and the mile, and
one only for the hurdles. This was in accordance with
Lattimer’s wishes, as. was also the fact that the scoring
would not: be by points, but that the first man to finish,
in each event, would capture that event for his particular
team.

Next afternoon the try-outs would begin on the academy
athletic field, and the seven who made the best showing
would be chosen to go against the Pirates. The whole
team was to be at the field, in running togs, at three
o’clock in the afternoon.

“We'll play ’em square and beat ’em fair,” rhymed Billy
Dill, the shortstop; “we beat ‘em at ball, and we'll give ’em
a fall, and arouse their wrath on the cinder path.”

‘Right-o, Pickles!” agreed Neil Rodno enthusiastically.
“They're a rough bunch, and maybe they’re fast, but we'll
show them our heels.”

“Maybe it won’t be so much of a skinch, fellows,” said
Pennyworth soberly. “Don’t be so darned confident that
the other crowd is made up of a lot of has-beens. We'll
have to work, take it from me!” -

“That’s right,’ agreed Glory, nodding,
some good sprinters.”

“I don’d tell you!” put in Villum Kess, with intense
sarcasm. “I could run me fasder as any oof dot growd
mit vone leg only. Yah, so helup me!”

“Dutchy boy makee shoot off mouth,” chimed in Hop

Wah, who never failed to take a crack at Villum when-
ever there was an opening, “Him allee same snail, makee
splint likee tultle.”
_ “Vas dot somepody spoke,” inquired Villum, “oder some
gabbage heads pusted yet? Und vat, blease, iss a ‘tultul’?
Ven a feller don’d vas aple to spoke English, den bedder
as he keeps his mout’ shut oop!’ ’

There was always more or less friction between Hop
and Villum, but it had to stop short of actual violence.
Merriwell had told the two that they would have to get
off the team if they could not be friends.

Just at this point of the give-and-take, Frank came up,
and, from glaring at each other, the Dutch lad and the

“Lattimer has

”

_ Chinese boy began smiling and making a hard attempt to

appear amiable, ;
“T vill be in mit der dry-out, I bed you,” said Villum.
“Und oof I vatch you, den you show me someding, yas.”
At three o’clock on the following afternoon the whole
squad trotted out of the Blyfield gymnasimu in running
togs and fluttering bath robes. Merriwell was equipped
like the rest, for if there proved to be a better sprinter
in the crowd, then that sprinter would take his place or
run with him in the dash and the mile. But such a thing
as matching Merry was not even remotely imagined by
any of them. The captain of the team could choose his
own place, and no one would dispute his right to it by
virtue of superior prowess or ability.
; The ten hurdles were set out in readiness, and Villum
- Kess got his eye on them the moment’ he trotted into
the field, With wild enthusiasm he plunged at them.
'  *Vatch a leetle!” he whooped. “See how iss it dot I
Tun der hurtles! I eat dem alife, by shinks!”
Then followed an exhibition that was long remembered,
Villum bounded toward the first hurdle like a rubber ball.
He got over the barrier all right, but his feet seemed to

 

   

and knocked it over. His shin was skinned, by that time,
and his blood was up. Instead of going over. the third
hurdle he landed on top of it, greatly exasperated and
saying things. Finally he dropped, and he and the hurdle
were all tangled up’ together,

There was a roar of laughter, and some-of the lads

went to the rescue. Villum was rolling on the ground,
clasping the hurdle tightly in his arms. It was hard to
pry him ‘loose from it.

“I vill chump me der plamed ting ofer, by shiminy
grickeds!’” Villum kept saying. “Gif me some shances,
und I show you vat I do!”

“Get up, Villum!” said Frank sharply, smothering his
mirth. “You're no hurdle racer. Ill give you a chance
at the hundred-yard dash, if you want it, but this style of
racing is too much for you. Straighten the hurdles, fel-
he added, as the chagrined Dutch boy began pick-
“Hop, Vil start you and John Glory.
On your marks!

lows,”
ing himself up,
You two say you've done this before.
Set! Give me the pistol, Rod.”

Merry placed himself behind Hop and Glory, and lifted.

the pistol. The two runners made ready in fine form.
3ang! went the gun.

Both runners straightened from their crouching position
and matched stride for stride as they rushed. at the first
hurdle. Both made the flight remarkably well and brought
cheers from the lips of the onlookers.

As the start had been side by side, so was the finish.

Neither Hop nor, Glory had so much as a shade the best ©

of it.

“Good work, fellows!” approved Merry. “Glory, I
haven’t a word to say to you. Hop, you can do better by
getting your pace right. Don’t make your first two strides
between the hurdles so short. As it is now, your third
stride doesn’t bring you close enough to the barrier. Go
back and try it again, both of you,”

On the second try, Hop tried so hard to heed Merry’s

injunctions that he lost speed, and Glory finished ahead ‘

of him.

“Once more, fellows,”
Hop.”

The third time Hop took the strides easier and with
more confidence, and, as a result, was ahead of Gloty at
the end of the flight.

“He’s the one for the hurdles,” declared Glory.
better than I am, Chip, a whole lot.”

This remark turned Villum green with envy. He could
not bear to harfg around and hear the praise that was

said Frank. “You're getting it,

giyen the Chinaman, so he shuffled off toward\another part

of the field.

Merry had already settled it in his mind that Hop
Wah was to fight with the Pirates at the hurdles, so he
was glad to see the Chinaman make good. As for Glory,
he felt sure there would be a place for him in the hun-
dred-yard dash or the mile run,

“I'll give you a little more practice at the hurdles to-
morrow, Hop,” said Merry. “Meanwhile,- you keep at it
yourself, Don’t try for speed, but for form. Take 4
easy.”

Those who had done a hundred yards with some suc-
cess, before joining the Athletes, were Rodno, Penny-
worth, Clancy, and Coddington.

 

“He's

Rodno and Clancy, Mer- -

 

 

 

3 t5 5

ie oe

ee

 
NEW TIP TOP. WEERDY

-riwell ened for the mile, and he tried them out eth
_ Keenan.

This afternoon, sieves he only allowed them to go a
quarter of the distance, or once around the big oval.
Keenan’s performance won the admiration of all. Cer-
tainly he was a crack amateur. Clancy and Rod did their
best, but Keenan came to the finish well in advance of

them.

Villum had clamored for a place in this trial, but Frank
would not allow him to start. As soon as the three
chosen ones had made the round of the track, Villum
started out alone.
_ Frank watched him, half expecting that he would get
tangled up in his own feet before he had gone far, or
_ else get tired and quit. do the surprise of all, however,
_ Villum sailed around the course in admirable fashion,
and when he got back to the starting point he was breath-
_ ing almost as easily and as comfortably as when he had
struck into his stride.
“Have you ever done anything like this before, Villum?”
ee Meal ded Frank,
“Oh, vell,” said Villum, smiling broadly,
could notice it.”
"You're about as graceful as.a rhinoceros,”
Frank, “but you seem to get there.”
_ Apparently he paid no further attention to Villum’s
Bees. showing, but turned.at once to the hundred-yard
dash. Villum, a little crestfallen, wriggled into his bath
robe and sat down on one of the hurdles to watch the
short sprint. Glory, Dill, Coddington, and Merry were
in this trial, and Merry led the others from end to end
of the course. Billy Dill was ’way out of it, but Glory
kept very close to Merry, and Cod finished a poor third.
“Nothing in it,” remarked Cod, “so far as I’m con-
3 cerned. “You'd better make me starter, Chip. I guess

-I-can do that all right.” .

Coddington was a fine first baseman on the nine, but
in this trackwork he was out of his element.

“nod so you

commented

aa reckon I'll make another good starter,” said Penny-

4 <

For the rest of the afternoon, Meals, divided the team
into: three groups, and starts were practiced. While this was

Pig Meeting wag all that could be desired, and only tis
e ae eee the hurdles needed mending. His per-

oO: the practice, and what he saw pleased itt immensely,
“The more r see of this crowd, Chip,”\ | said he, “the

‘J hat’s the way I feel, Rufus,” Frank answered,

CHAPTER VII.
MERRIWELL’S JUDGMENT.

e ie “Chip's watk in hurdling was always fine, and
kep t side by side with the os although he could

himself in his bath robe and perched on a hurdle,
‘once in his life he seemed positively gloomy. :

dod stead. He watched Merry narrowly, and cut his own
work close to pattern.

“T’ll risk the Chinaman for the hurdle race,’ remarked
Horton, who, on this particular afternoon, was on the
field during the whole time the Athletes were at work.

Frank nodded assent.

“We couldn’t do better, Rufus,” said he.

“Unless you did it yourself, Chip,’ was the answer;
“and if You take part in one event that will be all that is
necessary, or can be expected of you.”

Keenan, Clancy, and Rodno were sent over the full
mile. It was Keenan who starred himself. He was as °
steady as a clock, and, on top of that, showed clear-
headed judgment. Clancy and Rod jumped into the lead
at the start, but Keenan did not let that bother him. On
the second round of the track he passed Rodno, and on
the third round he went by Clancy, coming in an easy
winner by a dozen feet. It was evident that he could

' have made his lead at the finish a dozen yards, had he been

so minded.
“Keenan’s a crackajack !” decidred Horton, his eyes
sparkling. “I never saw finer work on the cinder path.”
“Nor I,” said Frank, equally delighted. “There’s no use —
for me in the mile, with that fellow running for the
Athletes.” E
“Pm not saying that, Chip. Keenan couldn’t head you
at anything, but I’m willing to pin our faith to him for
the long run. I’m positive there isn’t a man in Latti-
mer’s camp who can show Keenan his heels.
Horton broke off suddenly. His eyes were on the track,
where a solitary figure was’ slamming along apparently
in a race against time.
himself out, Chip?» Why don’t you call. him off?”
Morty had a stop watch in the palm of his hand. ae!
“Let him go,” he answered, laughing. “I’m holding the a3
clock on him.” ?
“Do you think he can do the mile in fifteen minutes?”

queried Horton jokingly.

Frank shrugged his shoulders.

“Villum can work off some of his’ steam, at any rate,”
said he. | :
Glory, Merriwell, and Pennyworth were lining up. for
the hundred-yard dash when Villum crossed the finish line —
on the last round of the track. Frank snapped the watch, .
looked at it casually, then slipped it into the breast of his _
shirt. He said nothing to Villum, and apparently ye ing i:
work little attention. n
The Dutch boy, looking for approval, seemed very much.
abashed because he did not receive it. Again he shrouded |
For

£

“Dutchy boy no can lun,” ‘said Hop, as he fluttered over
the barriers. ;

Villum did not answer, but turned his back on him. Evi
dently the world had become a very sad and dreary place"
for Villum Kess.

The hundred yards were run, with the same font: ‘as
on the preceding day, Merriwell winning handily. oie

“I guess that will be all for to-day, fellows,” called
Frank, “We'll take our showers, get into our hs ie, one
go back to the hotel.” !

Villum wore a sour and forbidding expression all me

while he was’ in the gym, and when he was dressed, h
stole out of the building ahead of the others and was

off Oe the hotel before ane one else had started.

 

Now

“Why is that Dutchman wearing _
  

q2

 

“What ails the aioe Tamale?” inquired Penn. “For
the first time since I have known him he seems to have a
grouch.”

“He made us smile in trying the mile,” warbled Dill.

“You held the watch on him, Chip,” said Penn. “What
time did he make?”

“Oh, so-so,” answered Merry carelessly.

“You might have said something to him, anyhow,
Merry,” coutinued Penn. “I think he feels it.”

“He'll get over it, Penn.”

This sort of behavior was so foreign to-Chip, that Penn
was amazed. Merry was always careful of his team-
mates’ feelings, and he must have known that his neglect
of Villum had worked havoc with the Dutchman.

About eight o’clock that evening Horton came to the
hotel, and he and Clancy and Merriwell went up to Merry’s
room for a conference.

“T suppose you know about where we stand now, Chip?”

queried Horton.

“T’'ve got it all figured out, according to my best judg-
ment, Rufus,’ was the answer.

“You'll be in the hundred-yard dash, I suppose?”

“I suppose so, along with Glory. and Pennyworth.”

“And Hop Wah for the hurdles?”

OX eS.”

“And Keenan for the mile?”

“Yes, Keenan for the mile.”

“Am I to be in that tun, Chip?” pale Clancy.

“Sure, old man.”

“And Rod for number three?”

“No, not Rod.”

Horton and Clancy showed signs of surprise.

“If not Rod, who, then?”

Merry did not answer at once. Reaching to the table, he
took a cork grip from beside a book and began turning
it thoughtfully over and over in his/hands.

“It’s not going to matter so much who the second and
third fellows are in the dash and the mile,” said he. “Only
the winner counts, anyhow. I don’t think there’s a run-
ner among the Pirates that can come anywhere near
touching Dart Keenan.”

“That’s right,” agreed Horton. “And in the hundred
yards there’s not one of Lattimer’s outfit who can come
anywhere near touching you, Chip.° We've got those two
events hung up for our side, right this minute. And that
Sapiensen f is certainly going to, capture the hurdle contest
for us.”

“Did you see a fellow watching us from one corner
of the Blyfield gym?” asked Merriwell.

“No!” exclaimed Horton. “Why didn’t he come out on
the field, if he was so anxious to see what was going on?”

“He didn’t dare, I guess. I can’t be positive, but I’m
pretty sure that fellow was Chet Brezee.” a

“Brezee!” muttered, Clancy, sitting bolt upright in his
chair. “Sneaking around, eh,” he added, “and trying to
get a line on what we can.do, so as to report to Lattimer!
I’d like to punch his jaw!”

“I don’t suppose,” said Horton quietly, “that he could see
very much from that distance.”

“Not with the naked eye, Rufus,” answered Frank, “but
he had a pair of field glasses. He was there to see how

the Athletes stack up, who’s to run in the different races,
and all that.”
“Why didn’t you tell the rest of us, Chip?” deplored

 

NEW TIP TOP

WEEKEY,

Clancy.. “We could have gone over to the gym and taken
care of the spy.”

“In the first place, Red,” returned Frank, “I wasn’t sure
the fellow was a spy, or even that he was Chet Brezee.
But I have strong suspicions. Anyhow, what would have
been the use of cutting up rough: with him? All he saw
won't hurt us any.”

“It isn’t what he did,” said Clancy, with a scowl, “so
much as the sneaking way in which he did it. It’s just
like that Pirate bunch! They're mostly. sneaks, fromm Lat-
timer down.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you, Chip,” put in Horton,
“that spying on us, at this stage of the game, isn’t going
to help Lattimer any. He'll put forward his best men in
the contests to-morrow, in any. case. Calm yourself,
Clancy.’ Nothing has happened to injure our chances in
the least.”

“That may be,”
to slug somebody, just the same.
in the mile run, Chip?”

“Villum Kess,” answered Merriwell, laying the. cork
grip back on the table and smiling into the astounded faces
of Horton and Clancy.

“You—you don’t mean it!”

“I'm not saying what I don’t mean,
not at this stage of the game.”

“But it’s a joke! The idea of Villum doing a mile run
in a contest of this sort. Why, he won't have a look-in!
Keenan will be at the finish line before Villum has gone
twice around the track.”

“Possibly.”

“You don’t want to make Villum a laughingstock, do
you? He’s feeling sore enough now.
with the rest of us, and he’s up in his room this minute,
wondering what the deuce is the matter with you.”

“He'll feel differently when he hears that I’m going to

”

growled Clancy, “but it makes me want
But who’s the third man

gulped the red-headed chap.
old, man; anyhow,

let him make the long run against the Pirates.”

“Well, maybe. If you’re handing him that just to chirp
him up, it won’t work, Villum will feel good until Keenan
runs him off his feet, but when that happens,.and every-
body begins to. yell and throw it into him, our German
friend will be wanting to crawl into some hole and then
pull it in after him.”

Merriwell laughed.

“You ‘and I have never agreed ‘about the ability of,
“You think he’s a joke, but

Villum. Kess, Clan,” said he.
he has come pretty near proving that he’s a ball player,
hasn’t he?”

“Pretty near, but not quite. Now and then he makes a
blunder that turns out differently from what everybody,
even Villum himself, expects. But blunders can’t always
happen to him at the right time. Don’t, for the love of
Mike, put him in that mile run, Chip.”

“Well, that’s where he’s going, unless Rufus wuikediea
me. What difference does it make; so long as Keenan is
going to win the race? If Villum‘can stand the joshirg,
Clan, I don’t see whé¢re it’s going to bother you.”

“Pull him off, Rufus!” begged Clancy, turning to
Horton.

“What Chip says goes,” answered Horton.
much faith in Villum as an all-around athlete;
case, what difference does it make whether he runs or
sits on a bench?”

“T hayen’t

The point was mavens and Clancy had to make the best

of, it,

He reftised to eat

but, in this.

SRS

 

 

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NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. ) 13

CHAPTER VIII.
THE HURDLES,

Before Merry went to bed that Friday night he made his
way to Villum’s room, Villum answered his knock, and
admitted him without any enthusiasm.

“Villum,” said Frank, “are you anxious to run in that
mile event’ to-morrow ?”

“Vat you tink I go me by der drack und run aroundt
so for?’ demanded Villum. “I don’d peen a geese to make
some foolishness like dot.”

“Just thought I’d drop in to tell you that Keenan,
Clancy, and you are to run the mile against the Pirates,
and——”

Villum straightway began to exult, and to shower his
thanks) upon Merry. In his burst of happiness he would
have hugged Frank, had the latter not made his escape
from the room.’ Unable to express his delight in any
other way, Villum began to sing and dance.

“Efery leedle meaning has a moofment oof ‘its own

.

By the time Villum had kicked over a couple of chairs,
those in adjoining rooms began thumping on the walls and
calling for silence. So Villum stopped his dancing and
did his singing under his breath. He was a happy Dutch-
man, and all his gloom had turned to sunshine.

“I knew, by shinks,” said Villum to himself, just before
he fell asleep, “dot goot olt Chip vould nod go pack on
me. Und he didn’t dit it, neider.”

During Saturday forenoon Frank and his teammates
remained quietly in the Borden Honse. About ten o’clock
Clancy brought word to Merriwell that Keenan was in the
hotel office, and seemed-to be having an attack of “nerves.”
Frank went in at once,

He found the star miler pacing back and forth, and

showing in many ways that he was excited and uneasy.

“Here, here, Keenan,” called Frank, “that won’t do!
What's the matter with you, old fellow? You aren’t let-
ting this race get on your nerves, are you?”

“ll be hangéd if I know what’s the matter with me,
Chip!” answered Keenan, breathing hard. “I seem to be
all worked up, somehow.”

Truth to tell, the double game he was playing had struck
hard at his self-control. Perhaps it had also reached his
conscience, Since coming to Blyfield he had been treated
with every consideration by Horton, Merriweil, and all
the Athletes. It would have been rather remarkable if
he had not hated. himself just a little.

“Well,” went on Frank, slapping him on the back, “you
take ‘a brace. You mustn’t go to pieces and let the other
side clean up om us for that mile. We're depending on
you to save that race, you understand,”

“TL understand,” said Keenan darkly, and whirled away.

He walked to a chair and sat down, but it was such an
effort for him to remain quiet that Merry called Clancy
and asked him to take Keenan down to the river for a
walk.

When they had left, Frank stood looking’ after them
from the hotel, as long as they remained in sight.

“Darned if I can understand it,’ Frank mused, turn-
ing away presently. “Keenan acts as though he had an
attack of buck fever, or stage fright, or something. Hope
Clancy can help him walk it off.”

When Clancy and Keenan got back to the hotel, barely
in time to get ready for dinner,. Keenan seemed to be

 

easier in his mind. The walk, evidently, had done him
good. ss

Just as they had done in coming over for the ball
game, Lattimer and hig Pirates descended upon Blyfield
in automobiles. It was about two-thirty when they reached
the academy field, and they went at once to the dressing
rooms under the grand stand.

Not so many of the townspeople turned out for the
race meet as had come to the grounds for the ball game.
but, for all that, there was a generous crowd of spec-
tators. \The academy fellows, of course, were very much
in evidence. Summer vacation would soon call them away
from the old school—some of them never to return—and
their interest in athletics seemed to grow as the school
term neared its end.

Gordon, athletic trainer for the academy, had been se-
lected as one of the judges of the contests; and’ a man
named Parmenter, a business man from Trawlee, was
another. The official starter was a Blyfield man, and the
referee was from Cornell, who had come to the town to
see his brother take his commencement honors,

The hurdle race was to be the first event. Following
this would come the hundred-yard sea and then, at the
last, the mile run.

Against Hop Wah, in the hurdles, was pitted one Sam
Sinkers, who had played short on the Lattimer nine.
Sinkers was long and rangy, hut to Frank he did not look
as though he would be in it for a minute with the China-
man.

On the stroke of three- thirty; the clerk of the course
began getting the hurdlers ready. Frank had spoken a
few cautious words to Hop Wah, and the Chinaman’s
flushed face and gleaming eyes proved how eager he was
to be doing something for the glory of the Athletes.

“Just remember the long strides between the hurdles,
Hop,” were Frank’s last words, “and don’t take the hurdles
too high—skim them.”

So he sent him into the field) While the crowd was
yelling encouragement to ‘the slant-eyed athlete; Horton
plucked at Merry’s arm and drew him a little aside.

“Lattimer has been out with his ‘roll,’ Chip,” whispered
Horton.

“We knew that would happen, Rufus,” Merry answered.
“You don’t mean to say you’re surprised ?”

“Not because he’s betting. That’s the sort of a chap he
is. But it’s the way he’s placing his money that sur-
prises me,”

“How’s that?”

“He’s not backing either this hurdle race or the hun-
dred-yard dash. All his money is down on the mile run.”

“Who’s against Keenan in the mile?” —

“Bunk McGinn, for one. They say he’s
for fair.”

“I don’t think he’s so much, Rufus,” said Merry, frown-
ing. perplexedly. “McGinn played center field for the
Pirates a week ago to-day. He didn’t impress me then
as being much of a runner.”

a crack miler,

“Tf not, then why is Lattimer plunging on the race, the

| way he is?”

“Give it up. Who are the other two in the race for
the Pirates?”

“Plainwell, and Flick Hedges.’ '

“Neither of them is more than ordinary. I know Plain4
well—he was on the Trawlee hockey team, last winter.

  
; He’s bound to lose a peck of money.”

NEW

Keenan can get away from all three of them, and not
half tty '

“Then what means all this confidence on deine’ l part?
“and

“That’s a conundrum, Rufus,” said Frank lightly,

T’ve got something to do just now besides taking part in

a guessing contest.

rows in the shimmering afternoon. sun.

Ah!” he broke off abruptly. “The
hurdlers are getting on their marks.”

- Both Horton and Merry at once gave their undivided
attention to the place where the hurdles stood in long

Hop Wah and

- Sinkers were crouching forward, and the starter stood
behind them with upraised pistol,

There was-not much of a wait, but during the brief in-

terval Horton caught sight of a face in the crowd that,

somehow, had a curious effect upon him.

It was the face

of the detective, Martin Hoover.

~ Lucius Lattimer.

Horton had neither seen nor heard of the man since
that late Thursday afternoon When he had called and asked
for information about Ledyard. Horton remembered that
he had told Hoover to go to Trawlee and interview
What success had the detective had in
Trawlee? Evidently not much, or he would not again be
back in Blyfield.. But——

- Just here the sharp, incisive note of the pistol rang out.
A yell swept through the ranks of the crowd as the two

hurdlers made a perfect get-away.

a

Hop Wah’s form. was better than that of Sinkers, but.

the two bore down side by side upon the first hurdle.
Over they went, almost as one, picking up their strides

finely and plunging for the second barrier.

The Chinaman had profited well by Merry’s instruc-
tions. Three strides brought him well up to the second
urdle, which | ‘was vaulted cleverly. But Sinkers re-
mained close at the Chinaman’s side, and one did not seem
able to get the lead of the other:

“It seems to be about an even thing,” muttered Horton.
 “Sinkers is a whole lot better than I imagined,” said
Merry. “It isn’t often that I’m fooled in a man, but——”

He broke off and lifted his voice high.

“Jump nearer the top of the hurdle, Hop!
the bar so much room!”

Whether the Chinaman heard this suggestion, or not,

question. The racket from the spectators was deaf-

Don’t give

/ {

\

At the fourth hurdle Hop was in the air just as si Siecee?
‘eet left the ground, showing that the Celestial had a shade
—just a shade—the better.of his rival. But, at the sixth
hurdle, Sinkers was back alongside again.
“Looks like anybody’s race!” muttered Horton.

Merry’s anxiety was not now leaving him any time for

‘omments. He stared hard at the racers. Sinkers was
icross the ninth hurdle before Hop had started his jump.
he yelling by the Lattimer crowd was wild and exultant.
ut ‘through _ Sou burst “a voices of Merriwell’s root-

~ “Come along, old man!”.
on't let him a you!

tres al with a deietinititon to do or die,
devotion itself to le, and had gira it time and

again.

ape

limited express.

‘loud, my  bettee.

; » difficulty repressing a ‘grin,
Stand ‘oy Merriwell, Hop!" ie
He

da little ; i ‘Ge tenth fetidie: sie once past
he came down the few oe yards like a

‘TIP ‘TOP WEEKLY.

But, if he was going fast, Sinkers was
going just a little bit faster. .

The yells from the grand stand swelled into a thunder-
ous roar. People were standing up, howling themselves
hoarse. ,

But the melancholy fact remained that Hop Wah was _
a foot behind when the finish line was reached. A foot

behind—just one little foot which might have been saved
Almost trifling _

had he not gone so‘high over the hurdles.
things, now and then, will win or lose such a race!
“Thunder!” exclaimed Horton gloomily, “he’s lost! And
I was so sure Hop Wah had this event sewed up for our
side. Chip, what do you think of that?” :

But Merriwell was not at Horton’s side. He had

started at a run for the field, in order to give Hop Wah oe

a handshake and quiet the distress which he knew vee,
well the beaten Celestial must be suffering. .

“Vell,” exclaimed a mournful voice, and one ies
owner was easily identified, “vat a piddy I don’d know!
I been so sorry as I can’t tell for dot!”

It was Villum Kess, of course, and he really-meant all
he said. That was a time when personal differences were ie
of small moment,

CHAPTER IX.

THE DASH.

Merriwell found Hop Wah hanging to the fence that —

bordered the outer edge of the cinder path. He was
the picture of misery. Merry slapped him on the back
heartily. :
“Come out of it, Hop!” he cried.
The Chinaman’s face was set in a strained expression,
and he turned two weary eyes in Merriwell’s direction.
- “My losee lace!” he groaned. “By jee Klismus, my no-
gottee speed ally mo’.’ Whoosh! Bymby, my gettee Sui, avs
makee blow out blains, go topside plitty soon. "Why you hi

not kickee China boy allee ‘lound tlack, Chi-Melly? How oy

you makee laugh when China boy losee lace, huh?”

“Why, you old grampus,” went\on Merry, “what’s tS.
odds if you did lose the race? A thing like that has got
to happen occasionally. Besides, Hop, you ran a prettier
race than Sinkers did. You had him beaten a mile on
form, and if you had had a little more time to practice
your strides. between the hurdles, you'd have Showa Sink-
ers your heels easily enough.”

The Chinaman began to take heart. Sa iN:

“You makee think China boy: plitty good lunner, | Cha zs
Melly?” he asked, slowly getting away from the fence,

“You're about as fine a runner as I ever saw, Hop

Just then the Chinaman had a thought that must have: :
filled him with a good deal of pain. What that thought :
was appeared in his next words:

“Dutchy boy heap glad, huh? Him makee ha-ha plenty’
No likee see Dutchy boy makee glaat
*bout Hop Wah. Him one bad piecee pidgin.”

“Don’t let that bother you, Hop,” returned Merry, with Ma
“Kess is sorry you Be
beaten.” P

“Him no* solly” desticed Hop eae “him tei glad

_ Mebbyso my watch, my makee see Dutchy boy erie beat,

y7?/

huh? Then him no have anything on Hop Wah!

There seemed to be much comfort in this though. or
the Chinaman. Frank would have remained longer an

i done whatever see) re oe: ad a ACHE eves pe

 

 
 

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

- feelings, A just at this moment the call went out for the
contestants in the hundred-yard dash. As this was Merry’s
event, he made haste to get to the place where he was
needed.

Horton, worried and anxious, stepped out ties the base
of the grand stand and halted Frank.

_ “Losing that hurdle race, Chip,” said the Yale man,
pretty nearly a body blow. How did it happen?”

“Sinkers was a bit better than the PARTATAR Rufus,”
answered Merriwell.

“Well, wé’ve got to take the said two races.”

“We'll do our best.”

“The dash, Chip; I consider ours already; but hadn’t
you better take the Dutchman out of the mile ; run and
“put somebody else in in his place?”

“Why, you're not losing confidence in Keenan, are you?”
| “No, but I'd like to cinch that mile event somehow. I
don’t like the way Lattimer is. betting on that last race.
His confidence is so great that he’s backing it with thou-
sands. That may mean that he has inside information
about. his runners that we haven't got.” _

“Don’t fret, Rufus,” urged Merry. “We're going to do
the best we can. No matter what happens, you'll have
no reason to feel ashamed of the Athletes.”

“T know, Chip, but I want our boys to get the best of

“ee

the Pirates this afternoon.”

“I’m expecting them to do that. Maybe Lattimer will
Shah: he had backed the hurdle race instead of the mile

run before the afternoon is over.’

Merry could delay no longer, and he tore himself away
from the harassed Horton and went to the place where
_ Glory and Pennyworth were waiting for him.

“Who do you think is against us?” queried Penn.
“Brezee, for one,” answered Merriwell, shifting his gaze
toward the spot where the three Pirate sprinters were
lounging in their bath robes. ~

Brezee met Merriwell’s glance with: an tale leer.
Merry laughed unconcernedly.

Yes; went on Penn, “and Lafe Needham and. Bill Trott
‘are the other two.” _

“They don’t look as though they were hard to beat,”
_ John Glory.
eee “Brezee’s the only one with any speed, Glory,” explained
eat “and Chip will beat him, hands down. We're just

in the race to fill up, but Pm going to beat Lafe Need-
ham?! j ;

said

__ ing.
re ‘The referee called the contestants around him, at that
moment, and proceeded with the usual instructions.
dwelt at‘some length on false starts, and told how heayily
ey penalize the sprinter who ape to beat the

Soe i be as easy for me hess said Bidebe, in an un-
dertone, “a as the chink was for. Sinkers at the hurdles.”
ven if I prove as easy as all that, Brexes,” returned
nk, ‘ ee needn’ t. ae: Ma in.” ea

{

“And T’ll trot in ahead of Trott; _ averred te Seite

He .

done, and, no doubt, won close sprints. ‘A sprinter “runs
on seconds.” The loss of a fraction of a second by a eee
start, leaves the unlucky runner just so much behind at”
the finish. ; ‘e

In order to appréciate the value of ‘tebeienks in a hun-—

_ dred-yard dash, one has only to thifk of the proposition
is

for a minute. Suppose the hundred yards is run in twelve —
seconds, This means twenty-five feet to the second, so
a quarter of a second—seemingly a mere trifle—lost, would —
put the loser more than six feet behind.

Merry kept his eye on Brezee, while the muscles tight-
ened in the fellow’s arms and legs. If he had any idea
of getting away ahead of the others, the warning of the
referee must have had its effect, for he restrained himself

Suddenly the pistol barked. Six pairs of hands and feet
flung their owners forward in a darting rush that was
beautiful to see. \Merry and Brezee were in their stride
almost immediately, and traveling neck and neck | bipie <
the course.

“Merriwell, Mertiwell, Chip, Chip Merriwell !’ nan out .
the husky chant from the grand stand.

There was not much time for demonstrations: of any
sort, for the dash would be so quickly over with. Ho
ton, straining his eyes toward the sprinters, was holding his
peace, The moment was too tense for words.

He saw Merriwell and Brezee take the lead from th
others right at the start. What Glory and Pennyworth
were doing, the Yale man did not greatly care. It was
Merriwell’s work which was to win or lose that particular
contest; and, therefore, on Merriwell’s work would largely
depend the fortunes of the day.

One event lost, the Athletes must take the next two. I
Brezee captured the dash, then already the ‘Pirates would
have two races won out of three.

No person’s judgment is infallible, and Horton oan
himself wondering why Merry had chosen Hop. for the
hurdle race. The Yale man, not even in thought, criti
cized Merry, and yet he wondered why the chosen hur ‘er
for’ the Athletes had gone down to defeat. Rihecs?

Merry had not seemed enthusiastic in the matter of

ing it “three straight” for the Athletes. He had thou
about two to one would be enough. The coming of Dart
Keenan had fired him with the possibilities of making
contest “three straight,” but, since active practice b
Merry had dropped back hopefully to ns original esti-
mate of two out of three. ;

But could he make even that stick?

These disturbing thoughts rushed through Horton’
mind as he watched the darting sprinters. He saw t
they were stringing out, for the most part, but that Me
and Brezee were keeping side by side. It was so at
fifty yards—and at the seventy-five. But the complexio
of affairs changed during the final twenty-five yards.

»Merriwell: drew swiftly and surely ahead of

‘The latter made a fierce effort to overhaul his: flying

versary, but the effort was in vain. Frank, amid ye

admiration and delight, breasted the pe a rh
full yard.

Horton opened his ns wok: gave vent to a a

 
NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY

ried to reach the captain of his team and extend congratu-
Jations. Frank’s teammates were already around him.
“Vat a fine pitzness!” Villum Kess was exclaiming, his
broad face all aglow. “‘Oof I vin der mile run mit mein-
 selluf, Chip, den dere vas two victors mit victories vat
safed der day, yas. Oh, you been der goods, I pelieve
~ you!” k
_ “I came in ahead of Trott, anyway,”
- “That’s some satisfaction.” j
“And I showed Needham my heels,” said Pennyworth.
“IT reckon that will do for me. Chip, you did that pret-
tily !”
_ “TI should say so!” exclaimed the smiling Yale man,
pushing through the little group of Athletes and taking
_ Frank’s hand.

“We're' one and one now,, Rufus,” remarked Frank.

“Soon it ‘villjbe doo und vone yet,” put in Villum.

- “Tn whose favor 2” queried Rodno, with a wink at Hor-
‘ ton.

Villum began to swell up indignantly. _

“Whose favor vat you tink?” he demanded. Then he
slapped ‘his chest. “Me,” he went on, “I vill take der
mile, chust der same aS vat Merry took der hundert yards,

yas 1 vill vatch you, blease, und see vat you do. Mind it
-vonce.”
ts “Aren't you going to give Dart Keenan a chance?”
_ queried Pennyworth. \
“I gif me no shances to anybody oxcept Villum Kess.”
_ “Well, Villum,” begged Rod, “don’t fall into the grand
stand. while you’re lumbering around ‘the track. It is full
of women and children, and you might knock it over.”

“Ven der grand stand goes by me,” answered Villum,
shaking his head ominously, “it vill be so fast I don’d get
some time to fall. Now——”

“They're calling the mile-runners, Villum,” broke in
Frank. “Go up there and get ready with the rest.”

“On der chump!” answered Villum promptly. “Now,

york, you bed my life, for der glory oof ne
Adledes. ‘Efery leedle meaning has a moofment oof i
wn-——’” and the queer Dutchman went singing away.

“Find Keenan, Chip,*<whispered~Horton. “If he seems
nervous, do your best to calm him down. poe de-
yends, on Keenan, you know.”

_“That’s right, .Rufus,” returned Frank, aid pulled his
Jath robe around brim and hurried off.

‘I

‘CHAPTER X.
STAGGERING suPpRISES:

remarked Glory.

>”

Merriwel! found Dart Keenan grouped with Clancy and

Villum. Keenan was pale, but he seemed composed and
etermined.

ou know, old man,’

it you’ re our best bet.”

A queer light flickered for a Hornet: in Keenan's face,

d he ee. scar burned edly.

’ whispered Frank to Keenan,

ae Pontes, stand a little way to one side. With a good

oS ery in the grand: stand, they were guying

He nodded, but did not |

Villum |

niably chubby and undeniably awkward, and the jeers came

in an avalanche.

“What's the Dutchman for?” howled a voice from the ~ oe

grand stand.

“He looks like a wierer wurst!
of it, if he runs!”

“Two to one he don’t go once around the track!”

Here Buck McGinn broke out:

“Tf that Dutchman gets in my way, I'll break his face

Villum began to breathe hard. He executed a forward
movement, but Merry grabbed him.

“Where you going, Villum?” Merry demanded.

“To get me in der vay oof der schmard Alec,”
Villum. “Meppy he preak my face, und-aneppy nod.”

“You keep away from him,” ordered Frank, “and attend
to: your knitting.”
' “Der joshing iss fierce!
grand shtand in,
Sooch a madness vat I feel.”
shook it toward the mocking, sarcastic crowd.
leedle! I show you someding vich makes you laugh by der
odder site oof der face, yas. Bah! Vat I care for you?”

“Never mind, Villum,” said Frank.
attention to what’s going on around you. Keep your mind
on the race. If you make a good showing, you know, von
mustn’t get. rattled.”

“T don’d vas raddled.
aber I vant to slug somepody so pad I can’t see shdraight.”

And he’ll get the worst

Vor vy ain’d I got friendts deer,

Villum clenched his fist and

replied.

I vonder? Eferypody drows it indo me.

“Vait, a

“Don’t pay so much —

7

I peen so calm as I don’d ‘ie Nee

Just then the referee called. the milers and:they grouped

around him for instructions. These were short enough, |
and the six contestants were then placed.
ment the race was on.

Right from the start Villum was left behind.
did not seem to bother him in the least. He plugged —
steadily, keeping his eyes straight ahead. Almost majesti-
cally he rounded the curve at the upper end of the track—
alone in his glory and exceedingly prominent. And when
he was rounding the curve, the other five racers were half-—
way down the straightaway.

Villum seemed hopelessly outclassed. Now cae sett
some one jeered him—but only now and then. For the
most, part, the spectators were interested in Keenan and
McGinn,
shoulder to shoulder, At the lower end of the track,
Keenan drew ahead of McGinn, and the Blyfield rooters.
roared with delight.

Horton, from his place in the grand stand, leaned over
the rail and chuckled in Merry’s ear.

“Keenan will do the trick with ground to spare, Chip!
The boy’s a wonder.”

Merry nodded agreement.

Keenan was a yard ahead of McGinn when the twa.
passed the stand. Clancy was about six yards behind |
McGinn, traveling steadily, and, it was clear, saving himself,

for the finish, Close together, a dozen feet behind Clancy

came Plainwell and Hedges. Arid thirty feet in the aes
Villum Kess was steaming along under forced draft.
Cheers greeted Keenan, and there was. encouragement
for McGinn. For Clancy there were pleasant words, for
Plainwell and Hedges a deep silence, and for Villum the
usual broadside of jeers and sarcastic MERION:
“Sit down and rest, Dutch!” oes
“Cut across the paddock, Wieser Wrst! You ‘an e

ahead of em.”

ake, your time, take your time ee

In another mo=(.5>
sy '

This a

These two were in the lead and traveling almost ,

 
NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. ag

A thousand to one you go the mile in one hour and
twenty minutes !””

__ Villum heard all these flings, and they must have cut
pretty deep. But he kept on steaming, and looked straight
- ahead.

“Why don’t Villum get out of it?” grunted Horton.
-“Can’t he realize he’s a joke?”

“He never takes himself as a joke, Rufus,” answered
: ‘Frank.

When the milers passed the grand stand on the second

lap, there was little change in their relative positions. Mc-
- Ginn, although trying desperately, was not cutting down
_‘ Keenan’s lead.
_ If there was a slight_surprise, it° was this:, In that
second round Villum Kess had not lost a foot of ground.
He was still the same distance in the rear, no more and
no less.. What did this mean? Was he traveling more
_ rapidly, ‘or were the others slowing down? It was a
very small problem, but it was. perplexing. As a matter
of fact, very few bothered their heads with it. They were

focusing their attention on Keenan and McGinn. °

Horton, his face shining with confidence, watched de-
_ yelopments with interest. Hard by him, in the grand stand,
is Lucius Lattimer took in events with the same confidence.
_ He knew what was to happen! He alone, of all those
present at that race meet, knew that McGinn was to lead
at the finish of that mile run!
“Two to one on McGinn!” yelled Lovins:
_ here with loose change to back Keenan?”
_ There was no answer. Already the Trawlee man had
down many wagers on the result. He had plunged reck-
Aessly, for he felt sure of his ground. Being a gambler,

a “sure thing” was 4 signal for him to go in for all he
was worth.

_ Outside the grand stand, Horton caught a glimpse of
Martin Hoover, the detective. Hoover was watching the
_tace,'and seemed greatly interested in Keenan. Somehow,
the sight of Hoover was vaguely disturbing to Horton.

Why was this criminal catcher back in Blyfield?

On the third round of the track, McGinn was still be-
hind Keenan. The gap had widened between Hedges and
-Plainwell and the two leaders, and had narrowed between
Hedges and Plainwell and Villum Kess. Now, Villum
was right at the heels of Hedges and Plainwell. Clancy,
too, was dropping back. He was™fighting valiantly, but
it was plain that he was tired.

‘ Every racer seemed in more or less distress, except Vil-

um. The Dutch boy’s tow hair was whipping about his

face, but he was lumbering on, ae coolly, and with a

“Any one

” puzzled
“He isn’t going to be so badly beaten, after all.”

| ” said Frank, “he'll not make a wee showing. I felt

Well, he——” Horton broke off what he was saying
to rise to his feet excitedly,

hat, apparently, is what nearly every one wanted to
ow. At the upper turn of the track he had been seen
stumble. He did not fall, but regained his poise with

ays aw ben he eRecree himself together and Rrobe

‘the straightaway for the home stretch/

“Great Scott!” he yelled.
‘What's the matter with arene What’s the matter with

Athletes.. Keenan had stumbled and injured himself!
He was trying fiercely to keep his pace, but it was mani-
festly impossible.

Coming down from the turn, McGinn passed hie A
bedlam of yells went up from the Lattimerites. Horton

sank, back in his seat, mopping his damp forehead with his “

handkerchief.

“Clancy! Clancy!” roared Merriwell.
Clan! It’s up to you! Come!” .
The red-headed chap, tired and worn though he must
have been, was making a gallant effort to retrieve the
fortunes of the Athletes. He had picked up amazingly.
It was the spurt which he had been saving for the stretch,
and he was dropping it in at the wrong place. But he

could not bear to see McGinn in ‘the lead.

Clancy passed Keenan. The latter was now making a
showing that was almost pitiful. He continued to run,
but (he staggered again and again and almost dropped.
Plainly he was out of it. Plainwell and Hedges passed
him, and then, even Villum went by.

And, by the way, why did not some one watch Villum
and give him a little encouragement? He was coming
on as steadily as when the race began. At the start, every-
body was going away from him; and now, toward the
finish of the last lap, he was creeping up.

At the lower turn: Villum passed Clancy.

“Come ahead,

Coming into
the race had
dwindled down to McGinn and the Dutch boy. McGinn’s —

lead, however, seemed safe—but only for a few moments.

Presently everybody realized that’ Villum himself was
beginning to spurt. - na

The roaring voices died away. There was no mocking —
of Villum Kess now. A tense silence—a silence almost —
painful—fell over the crowd. =

Kess was the one hope of the Athletes. Could it be pos-
sible that he was going to administer a staggering sur-
prise to friends and. rivals alike? illum, the stout, Vil-
lum, the blunderer—Villum, the bragger—— Merciful
powers, was that race to be his?

Calm and cool as ever, Villum floundered on. Foot by
foot he gained on McGinn. Twenty feet. from the finish
line he was at McGinn’s side. McGinn’s face was twisted
in an agony of effort. Villum’s broad face, on the other
hand, bore nothing bit a confident smile. a

And then the staggering, the unexpected thing, hareeeete |
Villum scrambled into the lead, and he crossed the line

two strides ahead of his nearest competitor.

McGinn gave out and dropped. Clancy tottered to a
standstill and leaned against the railing of the grand —

stand. Hedges and Plainwell flung themselves wearily on

the grass. Villum alone remained upright and faced the
rush of wildly cheering men that made toward him. _

Keenan would have limped from the track, well in the
rear of the other racers, but the catlike Hoover was wait-
ing for him and took him by the hand. Horton and Merry
saw the man’s move. Both wondered at it—Merry, of
course, even more than Horton, for the latter had eS

suspicions born of deeper knowledge.

The Yale man’ and Frank, curious, pushed toward How.
ver and Keenan, ‘They came close in time to hear Hoover's
sharp, authoritative words: < Bie

“Ledyard, you’re under arrest. Crosked as abies eh?”

This, to Merry and Horton, was’ at aoe stagge

‘ gorptiac of i Berets

 
18 , NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

CHAPTER XI,
A COUNTERFEIT DETECTED.

Horton and Merriweli>felt that. they ought to be among
the cheering crowd that was mobbing Villum Kess. A
hundred yards away they could see Villum on the shoulders
of his: teammates, and one of the shoulders, strange to
say, belonged to Hop Wah.

But developments in this matter of Keenan claimed the
attention of Horton and Merriwell, even to the exclusion
of Villum Kess, who had pulled the Athletes out of the
wreck, starred himself, and, incidentally, beaten a gambler
at his own game.

“What’s the matter here, Hoover?” demanded Horton,
as he and Merriwell came close to, the detective.

Keenan, white and despairing, hung limply in Hoover's
grasp.

“T’ve just bagged Ledyard, otherwise Byron Trent,”
swered Hoover. “You know, Horton, I told you about
him.”

‘Nonsense! ” Secluiiued Horton.

nan.”

“No more than I am. That’s his alias—another one,”

“There’s a mistake here,” persisted Horton, “a big mis-
take. Why, I have letters from Keenan, and I looked into
his character and know he’s all right. Be careful, Hoover,
about what you do.”

Hoover laughed. | :

“T told you, Horton,” he answered, “that sometimes the
best of us got fooled. You and Merriwell were deceived
in this case. This fellow is playing the role of Keenan,
but he isn’t Keenan. Suppose we go to the dressing room

“That lad is Dart Kee-

under the grand stand for a few minutes?” the detective.

suggested. “We can talk there until the Pirates begin to
come in,”

Without waiting for a reply, Hoover started back of the
grand stand with his prisoner.

“Notice it, you two?” he called back, over his shoul-

der.

“Notice what?” asked the amazed and bewildered Horton.

“Why, that this crook has suddenly lost his limp.”

That is precisely what had happened. The runner was
not now showing the least sign of injury from his stumble,
but was walking in a perfectly normal way—considering
his fatigue.

“That means,” went on Hoover, “that he is crooked to
the last. ‘He pretended to stumble and get hurt, merely
to “throw” that race. Oh, he had you two hooked for
fair. Early this morning I got a wire from Denver de-
scribing the lad fully. That scar is a mark he can’t get
away from. But I had other méans of identifying him,
too.”

Frank was dazed: As one in a dream he followed
Hoover, the treacherous runner, and Horton into the dress-
img rooms under the stand. There Horton and’ Frank
tumbled down ‘on. a bench. ;

“When r called on you Thursday evening, Horton, and
_ asked if you had an athlete in your squad called Ledyard,
or Trent, I told you I was a detective, and that I was
trailing down a crooked sprinter and runner.” The de-
tective stood in front of Frank and the Yale man, clinging
firmly to his prisoner the while. “The scheme Ledyard
used to work,” went on Hoover, “was tms: With a hacker
Ledyard would go into some quiet, unsuspecting hamlet,
and .the backer would get up a race with some local

 

sprinter. The backer would make bets on Ledyard. In
order to help the betting along, Ledyard would go to
the townspeople and say that, for a bit of a rake off, he
would throw the race and let the local man beat hun. He
would declare that he did not like his backer, anyway,
and that he would like to get even with him. Just about
ten times out of ten this would work, and a lot of money
would be wagered on the outcome of the race. Of course,
Ledyard would not throw the race, but would run to win.
As a result, the backer would clean up a pot of money,
and the two crooks would make themselves scarce in a
hurry. One of the victims went to our agency and put us
on the track. Lanergan gave me the job. And, if I do say
it,” exulted Hoover, “I’ve pulled it off handily.”

All this was most astounding to Frank. Slowly, as he
realized what sort of a fellow the supposed Keenan. really
was, his face hardened.

“That’s. a game that I saw once,
Arizona,” said Frank.
a lot of harm to straight athletics.”

“I should say so!” exclaimed Horton vehemently.

“Where's Keenan all this time?” asked Frank.
wasn’t a party~to the deception, was he?”

“I should say not!”

The door of one of the dressing rooms opened and a
young fellow in khaki clothes burst out into the place
where the others had halted. He stood excitedly before
Horton and Merry, glaring angrily into the hopeless face
of Ledyard.

“Ts your name Keenan?” asked Horton.

ON eSi

“Well, where have you been while this young scoundrel
was masquerading under your name?”

“l’ve been a prisoner of Lattimer’s at a log cabin down
the river. I was riding for Blyfield to have a try-out
for Merriwell’s Athletes, when I thought I had lost my
way. As ill luck would have it, Lattimer was in the road.
I think he had been talking to Ledyard, there. Lattimer
told me that he knew Chip Merriwell, and that he thought
I might find hitn at a wikiup on the river. I was fool
enough to’ go with him. When he got me to the cabin,
Lattimer and a chap named Brezee, tried to get me away
from the Athletes. They wanted me to hook up ‘with the
Pirates. I refused, and tried to leave. They jumped me,
the two of them, and put ropes on me and made me a
prisoner.

“T was in that wikiup until this morning. Brezee looked
after me until last night, and then some one else came,
This morning, Hoover showed up and raised the embargo.
That’s how I happen to be here now. The way I’ve been
treated is an outrage!”

“Lattimer made a prisoner i you and then sent Led-
yard over here in your place?” said Horton, his yoice
hard and metallic. | :

“Yes,” said Keenan

“And. his aim was to have Ledyard, sailing under false
colors, throw the mile run so McGinn could win?”

“That’s the idea. But McGinn didn’t win,
on and saw the Dutchman walk off with the race.
was bully! Lattimer has been beaten. at his as gaine,
and ‘has lost a pile of money. Not only that, but his

worked down in

“He

trickery has been unmasked, and Ledyard has. been cap-
I guess that proves that it’s risky business for

turéd,

crooks to try such high-handed methods,”

“It’s mighty poor business, and does -

I wasylooking
That:

 

 

 
"NEW TIP TOP. WEEKLY,

Merry stepped over and took the lad, who had been
through such vicissitudes, by the hand.
_ “Keenan,” said he, “my name’s Chip Merriwell. I’m
sorry you’ve played in such hard luck. But your troubles
are over with, for now. We came within a hair’s breadth
of reaping some of the consequences of your misfortunes.
This gentleman,” and he turned to the Yale man, “is Rufus
Horton, a lover of clean sport and the backer of Merri-
_well’s Athletes.”
_ “Glad to meet you, Keenan,”
JF may say, in the circumstances. Keenan had us completely
fooled. If it had not been for Chip’s good judgment in
putting Villum.Kess, the Dutch boy, in that mile run,
part of Lattimer’s villainy, at least, would have succeeded.”

“Let’s go over to the Blyfield gym, Horton, and take
Keenan with us,” suggested Merry.
_ “What are you going to do, Hoover?” asked Horton,
turning to the detective.

“Pm going to stay with Ledyard “until he gets into his
cl hes, and then he’s going with me back to Denver.”

ise guess, Chip,” remarked Horton, with an angry flash
of the eyes, “that I’ll wait here until the Pirates come in.
I want a few words with Lattimer and with Brezee.”.
- “You've got a good case against both of them, Horton,”
‘said the detective, “if you want to push it.”
“I want to tell Lattimer and Brezee what,I think of

,” answered Horton grimly, “whether I push the

CHAPTER XII.
ALL HAIL TO VILLUM KESS!

In a few moments the Pirates came trooping into the
dressing rooms. But Chester Brezee and Lattimer were
with them. i

lainwell teld Hoover that Lattimer and Brezee, still

aged in fdisine Villum Keds.
llum had donned his clothes and was swelling around
roud as a peacock. t
| bed you I been der goots!” he blandly remarked. “TI
w vat I know, und I vent in for dot race like anyding.
fellers vat made insuldings mit me at der shtart,
“somepody! +
a. fellows!” yelled ‘the enthusiastic eae.

and
NV Wah joined in until he: ‘was ted in the face. Villient
ked and slapped his chest and enjoyed the admiration

s goot to been'a hero mit jonmedue: ” he sighed.
T vell, don’d you got someding to say? But for you,

said Horton; “doubly glad, .

lows!” put in Horton.

a good showing in the race, for the stop watch a me
that ereey afternoon; but Pil be hanged if I thought
you'd win,

“Where’s Keenan?” inquired Pennyworth.

“Here,” said Frank, pushing the lad forward.
hands with him, fellows.
our ranks.”

Stupefied, the assembled Athletes looked upon this stran-_
ger lad in khaki.

“What are you giving us?” queried John Glory.
a joke, Chip?”

“No, it’s too blamed serious for that,” answered Frank.

And then, as briefly as possible, he explained Lattimer’s
trickery, the misfortunes that had happened to Keenan,
and the retribution that had come to Ledyard.

It was a weird revelation in the domain of crooked
sport, and hard for the youngsters to believe. For all
that, the proof was before them.

“Do you know,”
had been suitably welcomed and.condoled with by the team,
“T had my suspicions of Ledyard from the start. Just a
feeling, you know, that I tried not to show, but which I
felt, all the same. I’m not surprised at the way this affair
has come out.”

“Darn that Lattimer and his dirty work!” growled
Rodno, “I wonder if Horton has had enough of him
now ?” ‘

“T’ll bet hé has,” said Glory. “But to think that Chip
was fooled by anybody—even by bsg ir It’s not often
that happens, fellows.”

“Not often,” said Clancy, “but there’s always got to
be a first time.”

“Make some more cheers for me, blease,” pleaded Vil-
lum, “I. peen hungry to be admired mit you all. It
habbens so plame seltom, yas.”

“Blame it,” cried Clancy, “you’ve had us cheering ever
since the race was finished. I’m getting tired—and hoarse.”

“Shake
Give Dart Keenan welcome into

*

“Ts this

od +—Yell, oof I let you off for now, Glancy, don’d forged —
ioe -morrow.

I like to haf der goot feelings ee oop.
Dot iss such a habbiness! Vas I an adlede?”

“Surest thing you know! 2 said Billy’Dill. ~~

. “Allee samee first chop!” cried Hop Wah.

Hop Wah, it will'be remembered, wanted to see Vil-

lum beaten, just after the hurdle race was run; but when

the! supposed Keenan petered out, Hop’s feelings under-—
went a change. He was more loyal to Merriwell and his —
team than he was hostile to Villum. i :
And Villum, for his part, was too full of glory to even a
mention Hop’s poor showing at the hurdles. “~~
“Oof I felt pedder as I do,’ murmured Villum, “I
vould bust in bieces, yas. Vat a pleasandness it iss to make —
some vinnings mit der adledic game, eh?”
“And to make those winnings with clean hands, fel-
“Ah, there’s the point. We've
all had a good object lesson to-day, and I nee» we'll poe
by ate *
“That’s the talk,” guia Merriwell, “Never forget what.
happened to young Ledyard.” “eS cao Nae

THE END.

“Frank Aercieralt: Junior’s, Hobo Twirler ; or, The Son
cial to Blyfield,” which will be found in the next issue of |
this weekly, No. 48, out June 28, is a story overflowing
_ with — — ae mat Bs A benefit ball

 

remarked Pennyworth, after Keenan ie
 

  

20 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

game is planned to help-out the stranded members of Lat-
timer’s Pirates. The story of this game, how Chip Mer-
tiwell encounters treachery, how he averts a railroad ac-
cident, and how he gets back to Blyfield with his hobo
twirler on a special, forms a narrative that will bear sev-
eral readings.

in erernseenomnd om yt ea nonce perenetet

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.

3ecause 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.”

Atriving 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 real
Doctor Jinks, be brought to the house, but whtn he arrives
Hawley outfaces him and succeeds in convincing the finan-
cier that the newcomer is the impostor, whereupon the real
doctor is arrested.

CHAPTER XII.
A RECKLESS STEP,

As the rig passed through the gates of Newstead Manor
and started down the steep road toward the village, Haw-
ley inquired of the driver whether he knew when the next
train for New York would be in,

“Yes, sir,” replied the man, “There’s one due in fifteen
minutes.” j

“Five dollars more than the fare we agreed on if you
can get me to the station in time to catch it,” offered
Hawley eagerly.

Thus stimulated, the driver whipped up his ancient horse
and sent that surprised beast galloping downhill at a pace
faster than anything he had ever attempted since he was
a colt.

But as the railway station came within view and Haw-
ley’s sharp ears caught the faint screech of a distant loco-
motive, he suddenly yelled to the driver to stop.

“What's wrong, sir?” inquired the man, as he brought
his horse to a standstill. “If you don’t hurry up you'll miss
that train. She’s s pretty near due now.”

“Tust a minute,” replied the camera man, as he started
to climb out of the rig. “Wait there. I'll be right back.”

The driver stared after him curiously as he ran down
the road for a couple of hundred yards, and saw him
stop when he came to a woman anda little twelve-year-old
girl who were walking toward the station.

The driver saw’ Hawley suddenly pick up the young girl
. n his arms, and, with the woman keeping pace at his

side, hurry back to the rig.

if

‘drew up in front of the station entrance.

    

handed the

into the vehicle,
and then climbed in himself.

“Now for the station as fast as you tan drive,”
to the man.

He assisted the woman
girl to her,
he cried

The driver thought this proceeding somewhat queer,
He shook his head two or three times in a puzzled way as
he whipped up his horse. He wondered what the bearded
old gentleman with the high silk hat—for Hawley was
still in his disguise—could have meant by such conduct.

If there had been time he might have asked some ques-
tions—-for he was a man of much inquisitiveness—but the
increasing shrillness of the approaching locomotive whistle
warned him that the New York train must be very near
the station, and he had to concentrate all his efforts on
winning the extra five dollars which his passenger’ had
promised him.

Just as the train drew alongside the platform the rig
Hawley jumped
out, hurriedly thrust some bills into the driver’s hand, as-
sisted his woman companion to alight, and then gathered
the little twelve-year-old girl in his arnis, and all three of
them got aboard the train.

“Well, T'll be jiggered,” muttered the driver to himself,

as the train puffed out of the station and he stood on the |

platform staring dazedly after. it.

{n spite of the yokel’s astonishment and mystification,
however, there wasn’t anything very mysterious or out of
the ordinary about this little incident.

In taking the woman and little gir] into the vehicle and
afterward helping them aboard the train Hawley had
merely been performing a little act of courtesy and chivalry
which any gentleman would have done if he had been im
his place.

Both the woman and the child were strangers to Hawley.
He had never in his life seen either of them before. Al-
though the driver of the rig had not noticed it, it had been
a cry of distress from the woman which had first drawn
the camera man’s attention to her and caused him to com-
mand the man to stop the vehicle.

When he jumped from the rig and went to meet them,
the woman, who was about forty years old, plainly dressed,
and nof at all striking in appearance, told him breathlessly
that they were hurrying to catch the New York train.

The little girl, who, in spite of her tender years, wore
high-heeled shoes, had just had the misfortune to break
one of said high heels clean off.. Consequently she couldn’t
walk. Would Hawley be kind enough, seeing that he was
going in the direction of the station, to take them into his
rig so that they would catch the train?

Of course, the camera man readily acquiesced, and as-
sisted them further by taking the (little girl in his arms
and carrying her to the waiting carriage.

That was all there was to the incident, to be sure; and
Hawley did not dream, then, what disastrous conse-
quences were to follow his simple little act of kindneés,

As the train started off, Hawley leaned back against the
cushions with a sigh of relief,

“Safe at last,” he muttered.
right nothing now can prevent thetn from being published
in the Sentinel.
when he picks up a copy of the Sunday Sentinel and sees
the face of his billion-dollar daughter staring at him from
the front page!”

A little later on, however, the camera man remembered

something which caused the smile of contentment to dis- Mi te

i

“If those pictures are all —

My! won't old Mallon foam at the mouth |

    

Pin rn ie Soya li pain ead

 

 

 
 
 

  
  

 

 

 

NEW

 

appear from his face and in its place to appear an ex-
pression of annoyance and dismay.
“Gee whiz! My big camera! I’ve left it in my room at

the Newstead Inn. 1 can’t
afford to lose it.”

He realized that to return to Newstead right away would
be to run a mighty big risk. Prudence suggested that he
keep right on to New York, proceed to the Sentinel office,
and place those precious films in the hands of the Sunday
editor before going back after his apparatus.

But Frank Hawley was not the man to listen to the
voice of prudence when his beloved camera was in danger.
Any minute might bring the discovery of the imposture he
had worked on Mr, Mallon. As soon as this became known

Vil have to go back for it.

the irate landlord of the Newstead Inn, made aware at last

of the viper he had sheltered within his hostelry, would,
no doubt, proceed to said viper’s room, and, discovering the
camera, would pounce upon it, and smash it to pieces.

Hawley shuddered as he drew a mental picture of this
stitring scene—his erstwhile landlord, mad with rage, ex-
ecuting a war dance upon the remnants of the beloved pic-
ture-taking machine which had been the camera fiend’s
companion in so many thrilling adventures.

“After all,” he muttered, “there’s no hurry about get-

ting those snapshots to the Sentinel, It isn’t as if they,

were for the daily edition. They’re for the Sunday, and
to-morrow will do as well as to-day.

“That camera of mine is the best ever made. It never
misses fire, like some cameras do occasionally. Every

picture I’ve taken with it has turned out first-class. Even
on a cloudy day it can be relied \upon to make good. It’s
the peachiest camera I’ve ever seen, and I can’t afford

to lose it. Risk or no risk, I’m going back for it.”

Suiting the action to the thought, Hawley left the
train at the next station and took the down train back to
Newstead. ;

As he strode along Main Street toward the Newstead
Inn he glanced about him nervously, fearing that the
deception he had worked might have been discovered al-
ready, in which case, of course, he would be seized by
the first of the Mallon household he encountered.

He reached the hotel, however, without being molested,
and, hurrying upstairs to his room, seized his camera in
one hand and his dress-suit case in the other, and started
down the stairs again.

There would not be another train to New York for some
hours, but it was his intention to go by trolley from New-
stead to Albany, and await at the latter place the arrival
of the ‘train, He figured that that would be a much
safer course than remaining in the village.

He didn’t get a chance to carry out this intention, how-
ever, for, as he reached the foot of the staircase and

‘stepped into the hotel lobby, he found his way barred by

the resolute figure of the proprietor.
The latter stood in his path, his legs spread wide apart;

a grim, determined look on his lean, old face; an old-fash-

yoned, rusty but extremely formidable-looking revolver
held in his right hand and pointed toward the camera
man’s head.

“No, you don’t,” he squeaked—his voice under ordi-
nary circumstances was almost falsetto, and now his ex-

citement made it more shrill than ever—“no, you don’t.

You ain't goin’ to get.away so easy. If you don’t want

comes,”

‘to. get shot dead you'll stay right there until the constable

TIP TOP -WEEKLY.

     

“What for?” demanded Hawley.

“You've got an awful nerve to ask that,’ retorted
the landlord indignantly. “Mebbe you think I didn’t see
you come in here, go upstairs to the room of one of my
guests, and steal them things you’ve got in your hands right
now. If you think so, you’re mistook.’ I was watchin’ you
all the time, you pesky hotel thief.”

“But I'm not a thief,” protested the camera man. “These
things belong to me. I am ‘

He stopped short, suddenly realizing what the trouble
was.

He had temporarily forgotten all about the disguise he
wore. He was still rigged up as Doctor Jinks, of New
York; and, in the high hat, false beard, and wig, his host
did not know him.

“T must explain,” he said to himself, and then a-start-
ling thought flashed through his brain. “I can’t explain!
1 don’t dare explain! If I do, (’ll be stepping ont of the
frying pan into the fire.”

 

CHAPTER XIII,
AN OLD ENEM Y-,

Here was a nice situation indeed. Hawley had not fore-
seen this complication when he decided to return to New-
stead to regain his trusty camera.

He had understood that by going back he would run the
risk of, being ‘caught by some of E. H. Mallon’s de-
tectives who might be already aware of the fact that he
was an impostor; but the thought that he was in any dan-
ger of being arrested as a hotel thief had never once
entered his head. .

Realizing that he was confronted by the horns of a
dilemma, he stood there dumfounded, staring fascinatedly
at the big pistol which wabbled in the innkeeper’s hand.

If he proved to the satisfaction of his host that he was
not a thief by revealing his real identity, he felt quite
sure that the landlord, instead of letting him go, would
hold him until Mr. Mallon had been notified of the de-
ception that had been practiced on him,

if, on the other hand, he didn’t reveal his identity, he
would surely be sent to jail as a hotel thief. It looked,
therefore, as if he were booked for a prison cell, either,
way.

It occurred to him, as he stood there desperately cudgel-
ing his brains for a way out of this fix, that perhaps the
landlord had not heard as yet of the visit of Doctor Jinks
to Newstead Manor to cure old Briggs’ rheumatism. In
that case, it might be safe to reveal that he was Hawley
in disguise, without confessing why he had assumed that
disguise. ;

Faint as was this gleam of hope, Hawley seized it with
the avidity of a drowning man clutching at a rope. To
the landlord’s astonishment, he suddenly burst into a loud
laugh. a:

“That’s right, laugh, consarn you,” growled the old fel-
low, with a flush of indignation. “You'll laugh on the
wrong side of your mouth, I warrant you, afore 1. get
through with you.”

“Excuse me,” said the camera man, pretending to re-
cover his grayity by a great effort.. “But, really, this

is so funny that I-can’t help it. Do you mean to say, my
friend, that you don’t really know who I am? Are you
so easily fooled as all that?”

  
NEW TIP. ROP: WEEKLY,

“py It show you that I ain’t easily ‘Bisied ” saree: ‘the

other irritably. “You just. wait until the chief: of police
gets here. I’ve sent my boy for him, and as soon as he
comes he'll march you to the lockup. You'll get a good,
~ long term in prison for. this, I swan. I caught you red-
handed coming out of that young Mr. Hawley’s room with
his package an’ his dress-suit case in your hand.”

“And is it possible that you don’t know that I am Haw-
ley?” exclaimed the camera man.
_. The landlord laughed derisively. “You Hawley. Haw-
haw! That’s pretty good. Why, you’re old enough to be
his grandfather.”

“Not when I’ve taken these off,” retorted the young man,
» tugging at the false beard as he spoke and prying it from
his chin, at the same time removing the gray wig. “Look
here!”

“Well, I'll be jig-sawed!” gasped the old man, staring
- in amazement at the youthful face thus suddenly revealed
to him. “It is Hawley, after all!’ I’d never have sus-
pected it.” — is,

The hand which held the big revolver shook so much
in his agitation that the camera man was afraid the
weapon might be discharged accidentally.

“Now that you know who I am, old fellow, I must ask
" you to stop pointing that cannon at me,” he said anxiously.
“T’ll accept your apology for mistaking me for a hotel
“y thief. It was a perfectly natural mistake, under the cir-
cumstances. , But since you know, now, that I had a per-
fect right to go up to my room and take away this stuff,
‘surely you won’t refuse to step aside and let me pass out.
My bill is all paid up, so there is no reason why I can’t
go.”
“Not until you’ve given me a pretty clear explanation
as to what you was doin’ in them things,” replied the land-
lord, pointing to the wig and ‘false beard with his left
hand and still keeping the revolver trained on Mawley with
his right. “We ain’t used to seein’ folks goin’ afound dis-

-guised in” Newstead, and I’m goin’ to know what’s the

-meanin’ of this before I let you out of here.”
“Tt was a harmless little masquerade,” replied Hawley.
“TI suppose it was rather foolish on my part, but I thought
‘I could mee some fun by going around dressed up like an
old man.”

He realized that this” was rather tania but it was the

best: he could do on the spur of the moment, and he fries

it would satisfy the old countryman.

<e his great chagrin, however| the latter shook his head’

in a not-to-be-deceived manner.

“That won’t do, young feller,” he senile “You'll have

to give me a better explanation than that there, if you

ant to. escape the lockup. I wasn’t born Pee Ae
the day before, heither.”

“Well,” said Hawley, suddenly getting an Sepeeuisink rh
‘suppose it’s no use trying to deceive you. You're too
sharp-witted to be satisfied with anything short of the
truth. I guess I’ll have to take you into my confidence.”
The old fellow chuckled delightedly at this compliment.

ud better, young feller,” he returned. “As youvsay,

ain’t no use tryin’ to pull the wool over my eyes, If I do
ay it myself, as shouldn't, I’ve got a pretty good head on
ry shoulders. Folks do say, sometimes, that I ought to
av gone in for law instead of the hotel business. Come,
Si baal

‘of counterfeiters, are you, Mr. Hawley?

‘service man’ than you are.

What was pene: doin’ mite ‘that dis- ae

“No oubl you would be surprised to hear that IT am
a secret-service detective,’ said the carnera man, lowering
his voice impressively. eee

“A secret-service detective!” gasped the other.

“Please don’t mention it to anybody. I don’t want it |
known, of course, what’ my mission here really is. I am
sure I can trust you with my secret.”

“You sure kin, sir,” exclaimed the landlord, regarding »
him with awe and admiration. “So you represent the
government, eh? Well, I swan! I’ve always been anxious ©
to see what a real secret-service agent looks like. ae
you here after a criminal, sir?”

“Hush!” exclaimed Hawley, who was beginning to en-—
joy himself immensely; and, as he spoke, he put his finger
to his lips. “I am not at liberty to divulge my errand
to Newstead even to you. Walls have ears, you know.
Counterfeiters are pretty desperate fellows, and if ae a
gang knew——”

“Ah,” whispered the landlord. “You are after a ‘ane
Do you really
suppose they’re located in Newstead?”

“Do you think I’d be here if I didn’t suppose that,”
ried the camera man. me

“And that is why you wore the disguise, sir?’ said —
the landlord very respectfully; and as he spoke he placed —
his revolver in his hip pocket, trembling to think that he
had actually dared to level it at a secret-service agent.

The camera man nodded.

“In our profession,” he said, “we are obliged to adopt
all sorts of queer disguises.” ay

He was about to step toward the door, inwardly con-

par ‘

gratulating himself that his ready wit had saved him once

more, when suddenly he was startled by a man’s. voice. ot
“This fellow is lying,” it said. “He is no more a secret-
His name is Hawley, and he
is a newspaper man—a staff photographer on the New
York Sentinel.” Pe |

There was something unpleasantly familiar about that *
voice. Hawley, wheeling sharply, discovered that it came
from a good-looking, dapper young man who epee just
behind him, a sneer upon his face.

‘So absorbed had been the hotel keeper and the coeehe
man in this little dialogue that neither of them had ob-
served this young man enter the hotel and step up clos
to them. ;

Hawley recognized him iminladeately, His name wa
Gale, and he was a reporter on the New York Daily News
—the Sentinel’s most bitter rival. In addition, he hated
Hawley, and was cordially disliked by the latter.

CHapran XIV,

CAUGHT, .

it’s you, is it?” said Hawley, frowning
young man who had maliciously spoiled his one ‘
of getting out of his predicament just ae success s seemed
sure. ve

“Yes, it’s 1 ae Gale, grinning at “thie camera man’

“Oh,

discomfiture. “And I’m tickled to death, my friend, th
I’ve arrived in the nick of time to prevent you from wor
ing a shameful imposture upon this worthy | gentlem
He pointed to the landlord, who was scratching b

in bewilderment.

eee es tarhed to the ne ews man ‘hesitating.

 
 

 

 

—_

 

 

 

   

 

NEW

“Do you know this feller, mister?’ he asked. anx-
iously.

“Know him! I should say I did,’ replied Gale.
1 can't say that I know any good of him, either.”

“Then he ain’t a government official?’ gasped the old
man, once more producing the large, rusty revolver from
his hip pocket.

“Of course he isn’t,” scoffed Gale. “As I have already
told you, he’s a photographer on the staff of the New
York Sentinel. I presume that he has come to Newstead
to try to take some pictures of Mr. E. H. Mallon’s little
girl.” '

The landlord turned and glared at the uncomfortable
camera mati.

“So that’s his game, is it?” he cried. “The young scoun-
drel!. And to think that I’ve let a villain like that have
a room in my hotel. Well, here comes Lem, the chief of
police, now. He'll know what to do with him, I reckon.”

He pointed, as he spoke, toward a stout, red-faced man,
with an enormous silver star pinned on his blue blouse,

“And

‘who had entered by the front door and was marching

pompously toward them.

At his heels was Sammy, the fourteen-year-old “general
utility man” of the Newstead Inn, whom the proprietor
had sent out in search of the chief of police.

“Sammy, here, tells me that you’ve nabhed a. hotel
thief, Cyrus,” said the man of law, in a guttural voice.
“Where is he?” .

“I was mistaken about his bein’ a hotel thief, Lem,” \re-
plied the hotel proprietor. “He turns out to be worse.
He’s a newspaper chap. One of them young rascals from
New York that’s come here to take pictures of little Miss
Majorie Mallon.”

The chief, who was half the police force of Newstead,
scowled at Hawley, to whom the innkeeper had pointed,

“Is that true?” he demanded.

“Suppose it is?” retorted the camera man defiantly;
for he had begun to recover his nerve and fancied he
saw a very easy way out of his predicament. “To be a
newspaper photographer is no crime. As an officer/of
the law you must know that you can’t arrest me for that.
I haven’t done anything, and, therefore, nobody can make
any charge against me or prevent me from walking out
of here a free man.” ;

“He was in disguise, Lem,” cried the hotel keeper hotly.
“He came in here dressed up like an’ old man with that
there beard and wig on. Surely you can throw him in
the lockup for that.” :

“Not at all,” retorted Hawley indignantly. “The con-
stitution of the United States gives every man the right
to dress as he pleases. If 1 choose to go around in a wig
and a false beard no man can prevent me from doing
so,” He turned to the policeman deferentially. “Surely
it is unnecessary for me to quote the law to a man of your
knowledge and experience, sir.’

Lem, the chief of police, was seen to swell out at this |

subtle flattery. He cleared his throat, assumed)a judicial
air, and turned to his friend the landlord.

“T guess the young feller is right there, Cyrus,” he said.

“There ain’t anything in the laws as I knows of which pre-

vents him from wearin’ false hair, either on the scalp or
chin, or both, if he is so disposed. We can’t get a habeas
Corpus agin’ him for that.”

“Then you ain’t goin’ to arrest him?” gasped the inn-

fas keeper, with a look of dismay,

DIP OER

‘ squarely,” retorted Hawley.

  

  

WEEKLY, 23
“IT can’t, Cyrus.. I ain’t got no jurisdiction over him.”
At these words, Hawley darted a look of triumph toward
the Daily News reporter.
“Then I am at liberty to go?” he asked, making a step
toward the door.

“One minute,’ cried Gale. “Don’t let him get away,

‘officer; there’s another charge to be made against him—

one on which I think you will hold him.”

“What is it?’ demanded the chief of police, grabbing
the camera man by the arm and bringing him to-,a stop.

“Personating an officer,’ said Gale, a malicious grin
upon his handsome face. “This fellow tried to make this
worthy man believe that he was a secret-service man em-
ployed by the United States government, I heard him say
it, and am willing to offer’ my testimony to that effect. As
you doubtless know, to personate a, secret-service detective
is a very serious charge.”

“It sure is,” declared the policeman, tightening his hold
upon Hawley’s arm. “Did he do that?”

“He did, Lem,” cried the hotel keeper eagerly. “This
gentleman and me is both ready to swear to it, ain’t we,
sir? Lock him up, Lem, on that charge, if you can’t on
the other.”

“Sure,” said the chief; and, pointing impressively to the
silver star on his’ blouse, he added: “You're my pris-
oner, young feller. You'll have to come along with me.
Better come quietly, too, if you know what’s good for
you,”

The camera man heaved a great sigh of disappointnient.
Once more, defeat had come to him at the very moment
when success seemed assured, and he darted a contemptu-
ous glance at Gale. ;

“What a mean-spirited hound you are!” he said. “If
you had an ounce of sporting blood in you, you wouldn’t
have done that.”

The Daily News reporter laughed derisively.

“This is my revenge for that beat you got on me the
other day,” he replied. “I vowed I’d get square, and this
is my chance.”

“The beat I got on you was obtained fairly and
“And, Desides, if. you had
dealt fairly with me then, you wouldn’t have been beaten.
I was merely punisking you for the dirty trick you played
on me.”

Gale chuckled. :

“Well, he who laughs last laughs longest, my boy. It’s
my turn, now. I hope you'll find the Newstead jail pretty
comfortable.”

“Come on,” said Lem, who had been listening in per-
plexity to the exchange of words between the two young
men, 7

“Let’s be movin’: If Judge: Aspinall is sittin’, (11 take
thig feller before him right away. Will you come with us,
Cyrus?”

“Sure thing,” replied the hotel keeper, “But don’t you
think we'd better telephone to the manor, Lem, and let
Mr. Mallon know that we’ve caught one of them pesky
newspaper men with cameras? He might like to be in
court to see that the rascal gets his deserts.”

“That’s a good idea,” agreed the officer.
prisoner here while you telephone.”

“All is lost,’ said Hawley to himself, “I'll never get those
precious snapshots to the Sentinel office now. Oh, what
a fool I was to come back!”

“T’'ll hold the

       
24 | NEW TIP TOP

CHAPTER XV.
IN COURT.

Gale, of the Daily News, had come to Newstead because
of a tip which his newspaper had received that somebody
was seriously ill at Newstead Manor.

In that mysterious way in which newspaper offices ntan-
age to learn of such things, the fact that Doctor Jinks,
the great specialist, had been summoned to Mr. Mallon’s
home by telegraph, became known to the city editor of
the New York Daily News.

Not knowing, however, that it was merely Briggs, the
gardener, whom the specialist had been called to attend,
and thinking that perhaps it was the Billion-dollar.Snap-
shot who was stricken—which would have been a big
story—Gale’s city editor had instructed him to get to New-
stead as quickly as possible, and find out if such was the
case.

Immediately he arrived, Gale had learned that none of
Mr. Mallon’s family was ill, and that it was only on ac-
count of the gardener’s rheumatism that. Doctor Jinks
had been summoned.

Much disappointed that the assignment had turned out
to be such a “lemon”—to use his own expression—the re-
porter had sent a telegram to his editor informing him of
the facts, and then, finding that he could not get a train
back to New York for an hour, he had dropped into the
Newstead Inn with the intention of making himself com-
fortable there until train time.

He had entered the hotel just in time to catch the latter
part of the conversation between the proprietor and Haw-
ley, and had eagerly seized the opportunity to “put.a spoke
in the wheel” of his old enemy, and prevent the Sentinel
man from bluffing his way out of his serious predicament.

Gale did not know then anything about the daring im-
posture which Hawley had worked on Mr. Mallon, nor
was he aware of the fact that two photographs of Mal-
lon’s little daughter—the first ever taken by a newspaper
photographer—reposed at that very moment in the cam-
era man’s pocket.

If he had known those things he would have under-
stood why Hawley was so agitated at. the thought of
being marched before the local magistrate and of con-
fronting Mr. Mallon there.

Not knowing them, however, he was greatly astonished
by what happened wheri the little party arrived at court.
- Judge Aspinall, who, when not engaged*in sitting in
judgment upon evildoers, served as the village blacksmith,
was a large, red-faced man, with a deep bass voice and a
very stern air.

When Hawley was marched into the courtroom by Lem,
the chief of police, with the old hotel keeper and Gale, of
the Daily News, bringing up the rear, another case was
being ‘tried before his honor.

Lem had,his prisoner and the rest of the\party sat down
until the judge was ready to give them a hearing.

The case which at present occupied the attention of the
court was one which Hawley listened to with fearful
interest-for the defendant was none other than Doctor
Thomas Jinks.

The indignant physician stood glaring at the magistrate
and at everybody else who had a hand in the proceedings.

“What have you got to say for yourself, sir?” roared the
judge, scowling at the prisoner.

replied Doctor Jinks, almost

“All I have to say, sir,”

WEEKLY,

choking with rage, “is that somebody is going to pay dearly
for this outrage before I get through, I demand that
you let me go immediately.”
At this: point the proceedings were interrupted by the
arrival of Mr. E. H. Mallon, who stepped up to the bench.
“One minute, your honor,” he said. “I would like you
to postpone this hearing until to-morrow morning, if you
please. Doctor Jinks—the real Doctor Jinks, whom this
rascal has so shamefully personated—has been called back
to New York to attend to an operation. He will return
here to-morrow morning to appear against the prisoner.”
“Certainly, sir,” said the magistrate respectfully. “The
hearing shall/be adjourned until to-morrow, as you wish.”
“IT am the real Doctor Jinks,” shouted the physician, al-
most frenzied by the prospect of having to stay in the local
lockup overnight. He struck his chest with his clenched
fist. “I am the real. Doctor Jinks, I say. Oh, everybody
shall pay dearly for this by the time I get through.”
“Silence, sir!” roared the judge. “Officer, take the
prisoner away, and call the next case.”
In spite of his protest, Doctor Jinks was dragged back
to the lockup, and Hawley was brought before the judge.
“What is all this about?” demanded the latter, glaring at
the prisoner. “What has this young rogue done? He
looks like a hardened reprobate.”
“T reckon he’s all of that, your honor,” spoke up) the
chief of police. “The habeus corpus I’ve got agin’ him is
impersonatin’ an officer nolens volens.”
Lem had a smattering of Latin legal phrases which he
had obtained from the back of a dictionary, and he used

them whenever he got a chance with blissful disregard _

of their meaning.

“Impersonatin’ an officer nolens volens, eh?” exclaimed
the judge, who, not knowing any Latin himself, was al-
ways willing to take the chief’s word for it. “What are
the circumstances?”

“He told Cyrus, here, that he was a secret-service agent
employed by the U-nited States government,” declared
Lem. .

“He did, eh?” cried the magistrate, glaring at Hawley.
“What have you got to say for yourself, young man?”

“I chal-

“I deny the charge,” said the camera man.

lenge anybody to swear that I at any time said outright that

I was a secret-service agent.”

“T’ve got two witnesses here that heard him,” declared

the chief, pointing to Gale and the Hotel keeper.

“We'll hear Cyrus first,” said the judge.
Cyrus, and tell us what this feller said.”

“He said he was a secret-service agent employed by
the government, and that he was out here to ketch a des-
perate band of counterfeiters,’ said the hotel keeper.
“Came pretty near makin’ me believe it, too, judge, if it
hadn’t been for this young man, here, steppin’ in and
puttin’ me wise.”

“Your honor, I ask permission to cross-examine this
witness,” cried Hawley. “It is my legal right.”

The judge nodded.

“Yes, the law gives you that right,” he admitted. “Every-
body gets all his legal rights i ig: stds here court. Go ahead
and cross-examine, young man.’

The camera man turned eagerly to the hotel keeper,”

“Will you swear?” he asked slowly, impressively, “that
I didn’t say to you these words: ‘No doubt you would be
surprised to hear that I am’a secret-service detective’ ?”

“Step up here, _

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NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY, ~ | 26

“Sure,” replied the astonished hotel keeper. “That was
exactly what you did say. You admit it, do you?”

“Those were the very words I used, eh?”

“Ves, them was the very words.”

“Very good,’ exclaimed the camera man, with a grin of
satisfaction. He turned to the magistrate. “Your honor,
you will observe, from the witness’ own statement made
under oath, that I am nof guilty.

“He admits that I didn’t tell him that I was a secret-
service man—that all I said was that no doubt he would be
surprised to hear that I was one. Suppose I were to tell
your honor, now; that you would be surprised to hear that
I was a camel. That wouldn’t be saying that I was a
camel, would it?”

The judge, who possessed a logical mind, was greatly
impressed by this argument, and nodded his head approv-
ingly.

“T am afraid that this young feller has got the best of
you there, Cyrus,” he said. “I don’t like his looks; ‘but,
at the same time, I’ve got to hand out justice impartial

in this here court, and I don’t think I could commit him,

for impersonatin’ an officer on your testimony.”

Hawley’s heart beat faster at these hope-bringing words,
and he darted a look of triumph toward the discom-
fited Gale. Once more it looked as if the camera man’s
ready wit had got him out of a bad fix.

But, as luck would have it, the judge’s glance happened
to fall just then upon the false beard and wig. which
the hotel keeper held in his hand. He had brought them
to court thinking they might come in useful as evidence.

“What have you got there, Cyrus?” he inquired.

“The disguise this young scamp wore, jedge.”
up the articles so that the court could inspect them.

“The disguise!” It was Mr. E. H. Mallon who uttered
the words. The millionaire was staring hard at the wig
and beard. “Did this fellow wear those?” he added.

“Yes, Mr. Mallon, sir; and a high silk hat, too.”

“A high silk hat!” gasped the financier, and turned’ ex-
citedly to the magistrate. “Your honor, I ask that the pris-
oner be forced to put on these articles immediately. I want
to see what he looks like in them. I very much fear that
a great mistake has been made, and a great injustice done
an innocent man.” Pte

He held

Hawley’s heart became as heavy as lead at these words.
He knew that he 4vas now at the very end of his rope—+
that nothing could save him from going to jail.

But it wasn’t the jail sentence which was worrying the
It was the distressing thought that the two
photographs of the Billion-dollar Snapshot which were in
his coat pocket, and which he gone through so much to
get, would never be published in the Sentinel.

He would be sentenced to jail for the imposture he had

worked on Mr. Mallon, and before being put in a cell
he would be searched, and the pocket camera, with those
precious films inside, would be discovered, seized by the

‘irate millionaire, and smashed to pieces.

“What a pity!” he sighed. “What a pity! If only I

could save the pictures I wouldn’t care much what hap-

pened to me.”

Suddenly his despairing gaze fell upon a barred win-
dow only a foot away from where he stood. He noticed

'* that the lower half of this window was open, the judge

being a stickler for plenty of fresh air in the courtroom.
A bright idea flashed through the camera man’s mind. If

 

he could edge a little nearer to that open window he might
manage to drop the pocket kodak and its precious contents
into the long grass outside.

If he could succeed in doing this unobserved there was
a good chance that the camera and those valuable films
would remain hidden until he came out of jail. It wasn’t
very likely that anybody wauld discover it there, the grass

‘ being so long and the camera so small.

It was a risky move, but it seemed to be the only chance
of saving those negatives from being crushed beneath the
heel of the camera-hating Mr. Mallon. Therefore, Hawley
decided to attempt it.

His opportunity came when the chief of the police—the
magistrate having graciously granted Mr. Mallon’s re-
quest that the prisoner be forced to don the wig and beard
—approached Hawley with those articles in his hand and
gruffly bid him put them on immediately.

“No! No!” cried the camera man, pretending to be ter-
ror-stricken at the thought, and backing away from the
officer.

 

The maneuver enabled him to reach the barred window, ,
and, as soon as he got there, while protesting violently —

against being forced to put on his disguise, his hand went
into his coat pocket, grabbed the kodak, and dropped it
gently through the bars.

“Safe!” he said to himself exultantly. .““Now let them
send me to jail, if they want to. I don’t care. As soon
as I’ve served my term, I’ll come back here and get that
camera. If I have any sort of luck it will still be there,
and those pictures of the Billion-dollar Snapshot will be
published in the Sentinel, after all.”

TO BE CONTINUED.

foe pt

PASSPORTS.

Passports are a matter of the first importance to the
traveler who intends to visit Russia. They are more need-
ful than money, not because people are halted on the street
to show their passport, as is currently supposed, nor because
the police line the streets and are waiting for strangers at
every corner, but because it is impossible to get either in or
out of Russia, or to get food and lodging when one is
there, without it. The police on the streets know very
well that strangers have their passports or they would not
be there.

First of all, it is difficult to buy tickets to Russia without
showing a passport vised by the Russian consul at the start-
ing point. By the steamship lines no passenger goes on
board the boat without the Russian consul’s written per-
mission, and by the railways, while the greater hurry at the
ticket offices makes it possible to buy tickets without show-
ing any documents, no visitor arrives at the frontier with-
out very earnestly wishing that he had one. At the fron-
tier stations on the ligies from Berlin and Vienna the care
and zeal of the aia extraordinary, _

The German trains are turned round, held in waiting
until the examination is through, and. then steam back to
Germany again with people on whom the Russian doors
are shut. Some of these unfortunates are Jews, some
persons whose appearance does not please the police, some
have suspicious baggage, but the large majority have for-
gotten to have their passports vised, or forgotten them
altogether. In the steamers, of course, there is no frontier
station, and it is to save the trouble and expense of keep-
ing stispects a few days at St. Petersburg and carrying

7

   
 

26 NEW TIP
them back again that the companies enforce the law at the
other end of the line. They see that everything is right
before the boat gets under way, and on this account they
are probably the best way for careless people to try to get
to Russia.

The traveler visits the Russian consul first, then the
ticket office, then as he goes on board, gives his passport
to the captain, who holds it until the Russian official takes
his preliminary look at the passengers at Cronstadt. At the
pier in St. Petersburg the passports are taken to tlie po-
lice bureau, which seems to be part of every pier. The
baggage is examined, and then the passengers pass through
the bureau and get their passports again.

At the hotel, there is another passport bureau, passports
are given up to the police, and then the hotel proprietor,
who seenis to be in some measure responsible for his
guests, permits them to register. The passports go to
the police headquarters, and are returned in ‘a day or two
im case the police ate satisfied; if not, they send for the
visitor, put him through a cross-examination, and permit
him to stay or not or they are impressed with his story
and appearance.

At any town in Russia the same formalities with re-
gard to the hotels must be observed, and to get out of the
country again permission must be obtained from the po-
lice at the town where the passports are last handed in.
Then the steamboats and railroads repeat their precautions,
the police go with the boat as far as Cronstadt or Helsing-
fors to take back any one who has not been permitted to
leave, and the officers wait at the frontier to detain any
one who has neglected the same formalities. The police
must open the trap before the victim can get out.

ae

FAST WORK OF PONY EXPRESS.

The famous pony express established by Wells & Fargo
Company was in operation only two years, and yet its
reputation has resounded down the years. It was a dar-
ing experiment. Think of it! Two thousand miles on
horseback, acrdss a country overrun with hostile Indians,
destitute of all cultivation, through a tegion wild. desolate,
and unknown! But an imperative duty was performed.
Messages of vital importance were transmitted from State
to State, without the aid of the mail coach or the railroad,
which had not up to that time penetrated the mountainous
regions of the West.

The need’ for quick communication between the coun-
try east of the Missouri River and the West was recog-
‘nized from an early time. The overland stage routes
/ proved too slow for mail and express in the journey from
‘the Missotri to the Pacific. The best of the stage lines
brought the time down to 25 days, but the pony express
did better., By hard riding it crossed the 2,000 miles
within an average of 10 days.

Few of the old-timers personally acquainted with the
Wells-Fargo pony express in those early days will ever
forget the exciting dashes those intrepid riders made,
each braving all peril, regardless of self and intent only
upon the ‘speedy delivery of his precious mochilla to the
next hardy horseman.

It was in 1859 that the Wells-Fargo Pony Express was
established, taking a route due west from the historic gate-
_way'town of St. Joseph, Mo., to Fort Kearny, ‘up the
Platte to Julesburg, thence by Fort Laramie and Fort
‘Bridger to Salt Lake City, thence to Camp Floyd, Ruby

LOY

WEEKLY.

Valley, the Humboldt, Carson City, Placerville, Folsom,
and Sacramento, from which San Francisco could be
reached by boat.

Mark Twain had a happy facility for telling the story
of the pony-express rider.

“There was no idling time for the pony rider on duty,”
he says. “He rode 50 miles without stopping, by daylight,
moonlight, starlight, or through the blackness of dark-
ness, just as it happened. He rode a splendid horse that
was born a tracer, and fed and lodged as a gentleman.
He kept him at his utmost speed for 10 miles, and then
as he came crashing up to the station, where stood two
men holding fast a fresh, impatient steed, the transfer
of rider and mail bag was made in the twinkling of an
eye, and away flew the eager pair, and were out of
sight before the spectator could hardly get a ghost’ of a
look. Both rider and horse went ‘flying light?”

And on every day except Sunday, for two years a
rider left St. Joseph at noon and Sacramento at 8 a. m.
When, on October 24, 1861, the first transcontinental tele-
graph went into operation, the pony-express service had
been supplanted. But, in spite of its brief career, the en-
terprise was a great success, afd it plainly indicated the

extraordinary demand for quick communication between.

the Atlantic and Pacific seaboards. The fastest time ever
made from Washington to the California coast; with the
aid of the pony express, was achieved in transmitting

President Buchanan’s last message to Congress to Sacra--

mento in 8% days. The news of the attack on Fort Sum-
ter came through in eight days and fourteen hours, and
from that time on California business men gave a bonus
to the pony express company to be distributed among the
riders for catrying war news as. fast as possible. Later
quick delivery of the news of the battle of Antietam and
of President Lincoln’s inaugural speech brought special
rewards for the venturesome pony riders.

+ +40 4+

DYING WORDS.

“Men must endure their going hence, even as their com-
ing hither; ripeness is all—Shakespeare.

“It is well.”—-Washington.

“J must sleep now.”’—Byron.

“Kiss me, Hardy.”—WNeison.

“Head of the army.”—Napoilcon.

“Don’t give up. the ship.”—Lawrence,

“Let the light enter.” —Goethe.

“Into Thy Hands, O Lord.”—Tasso,

“Independence forever.” —Adams.

“The artery ceased to beat.”—Haller.

“Is this your fidelity ?”—Nere.

“Give Dayroles a chair.’—Lord Chesterfield.

“It is the last of earth.”"—J. Q. Adams.

“God preserve the emperor.” —Haydn.

“A dying man does nothing well.”—Franklin:

“Let not poor Nelly starve.”—Charles IT.

“What! is there no bribing death ?”—Cardinal Beaufort.

“All of my eee for a moment of time.”—Oueen

Elizabeth.

“It! matters little how the head fieth ae Walter
Raleigh.

“Clasp my hand, my. dear friend. I die.’ »Alfors

“T feel as if I were to be myself aaa ait Walter — 4

Scott.
“Let mé die to the sound of elbond music. "=-Mirabeau,.

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subject of cancer in nurses’ schools are among the plans

 

     

NEW

     

TIP -TOP WEEKLY. 27

NEWS ITEMS OF INTEREST.

 

Find Human Skeleton Bedded in Solid Rock.

The: skeleton of what was evidently a human being has
been found at Wagon Wheel Gap, Colo., forty feet below
the surface of the ground in a solid rock formation: The
skeleton, which apparently has been sealed in the rocks for
thousands of years, was in an almost perfect state of
preservation.

The discovery, which may prove a most important one
in aiding scientists to learn more about the early inhabitants

. of this continent, was made by Ellwood Bergey, a mining

man. He was driving a shaft on some mining property,
and had gone about forty feet, most of the way through
a solid rock formation.

A charge of dynamite set off in the bottom of the

‘shaft exposed in the side walls a small fissure about six

feet long and one foot wide, which was tightly sealed
with rock and talc formations.

Within this silent and long-buried tomb the’ fossil was
found.

Globe-trotter Admits Fake.

Under a’ merciless cross-examination JtHius Rath, self-
styled “newsboy globe-trotter,” finally broke down and
confessed to the manager of a theater, at Reading, Pa.,
that his life for the last four years has been one continu-
ous deception, and that the 500,000-mile hike he was sup-
posed to set out and accomplish in eighteen years for'a
prize of $30,000 was merely fiction.

Fled Siberia; Asylum Hete,

That conviction in Russia as a political offender. is not
sufficient to bar an immigrant from this country was the
policy announced at the bureau of immigration recently.

Two cases of refugees who had been through the hor-
tors of a Siberian exile were before the department of
labor after adverse action by the examining boards at the
ports of entry. Elie Kogan was held up at Ellis Island,
charged with being guilty of an offense involving moral
turpitude. }He had been convicted in 1906 of being a mem-
ber of the revolutionary party in Russia, and sentenced
to Siberia. He escaped to New York April 3 of this year.

Two boards at New York decided Kogan was guilty of
moral turpitude and ordered his deportation.

A similar reversal of the local board’s decision was
made by the secretary of labor in a California case.

Plan to Educate Public on Cancer.’

A group of New York’s most prominent women is to-
day heading a movement for a national anticancer associa-

‘tion, the object of which is to educate the public to recog-

nize the first symptoms of this malignant disease, that it
may be treated in time for a cure.
The first meeting was held recently, and a committee

on organization appointed, consisting of Doctor Leroy .

Broun, James Speyer, V. Everit Macy, George C. Clark,
and ‘Frederick L. Hoffman. This committee is to-ask the
cooperation of the Physicians’ Congress, when it convenes
in Washington some time in May.

Magazine articles, leaflets and special instruction on the

for the campaign, which is addressed mainly to women,
as two women cancer sufferers exist for every man who
contracts the disease.

Old Roman Fatm Found in Britain.

A smali Roman farm, similar to others traced in various
parts of Wiltshire, has been discovered at Cranborne Chase,
England, on the Dorset border. The farm, which was 96
acres in extent, was surrounded by a low earthern inclos-
ure, while the buildings, consisting of a dwelling house,
bakehouse, and granary, were in a quadrangle 150 feet by
80 feet, inclosed with a ditch.

Among the remains found were a quantity of corn, bones
of horses and‘oxen, a large number of fragments of New
Forest, Samian, and other ware, a Purbeck marble vessel,
spindle wheels, knife blades, and coins, from Gallienus to
Constantine.

Inside the ditch is a barrow belonging to the bronze
age.

The discoveries were the result of excavations by Mr.
Sumner, F. S. A., with the permission of the owner, Lord
Shaftesbury. 4

Plan Athfetic Events at Panama Exposition.

James E. Sullivan, secretary-treasurer of the Amateur
Athletic Union of the United States, who has had more
experience at managing world’s fair and exposition games
than any man living, has accepted the athletic directorship
of the Panama-Pacific international exposition.

With “Jim” Sullivan holding the reins, the success. of
the great exposition games is assured. Already he has
proved his merit as an organizer in more than one world’s
fair. Outside of world’s fair games he has shown his
master hand as a builder with the wonderful organization
known as the Afnateur Athletic Union. This union is his
work, his structure from foundation up, his hobby, and it
has ‘become world famous.

The “big chief” is enthusiastic over the prospects for
the holding of a series of great sport events in San Fran-
cisco, and is of the opinion that the nations of the world
at large will send their best athletes to compete in a series
of international games.

Sullivan announced upon his appointment that he was
in favor of scheduling every form of athletics, and would
include everything on the program from school-children’s
games to aéroplanes. Anything and everything between
earth and sky will find a place.on the sporting calendar of
the 1915 exposition games. ;

The modern pentathlon, for which the Olympic games
committee has donated a special medal, Sullivan thinks
will be the .big drawing card for the international ath-
letes. This is a “medley” affair, taking in horseback rid-
ing, revolver shooting, swimming, and running, and appeals
particularly to the army athletes of Europe. Though the
majority of the United States army men ‘are not exactly
proficient in the event, Sullivan expects to see a large
entry from our army, as there is plenty of time.to pre-
pare for it.

At Stockholm, in the modern pentathlon, the course for
the riding was sealed, and none of the competitors knew

dh z
 

 

  

28

 

where they were going until the start of the race. This
is unfair, Mr. Sullivan considers, particularly to the con-
testants of the foreign nations. The competitors of the
nation holding the event must of necessity have an ad-
vantage in knowing the style of country to be negotiated.
There will be no sealed course in the San Franeisco 1915
modern pentathlon. It will be known in advance, and
every entrant will be given an opportunity to go over the
ground and become thoroughly familiar with, it.

“Sports and games on a vast scale,” said Sullivan, “will
attract attention the world over. The world’s nations will
participate so extensively at San Francisco that we ‘an-
‘ticipate the greatest series of international sports ,events
ever held in one place and at one time. Great cash prizes
and trophies will be awarded.”

One factor in the Panama-Pacific athletic events. which
is wholly new is that the quarter-mile races, for the first
time in athletic history, can be run on a straight-away
track. “I expect to see the records fall like leaves in
autumn,” says Mr. Sullivan,

The International Polo Meet.

Polo is a tich ‘man’s game, but this doesn’t prevent the
rest of us being a bit interested when we know that. Hur-
lingham is to play Meadowbrook for the world’s champion-
ship this summer—Hurlingham being a British team and
Meadowbrook our own best little polo team, the cham-
pionship is international.

The first thing required of a polo player is that, he
have scads of money, because it requires a shameful sum
to keep a “string” of ponies, and every player must have
his “string.” A poloist with only one or two ponies would
not be eligible.

Next, he must be socially qualified, but, of course, if
he has the money, he is eligible, because money keeps so-
ciety boiling.

A crack polo player must be absolute master of his
horse. To be a good horseman is not sufficient. Heé must
be a supethorseman, because no man who gives the slight-
est thought to his seat in the heat of a game is of value

‘to his team.

Polo is rough enough to make the players mighty poor
accident risks. A broken leg or arm is something to ex-
pect. Society likes polo and turns out. en masse (big
league for in a bunch) at the important matches, possibly
for the same reason that Rome flocked to the arena to wit-
ness gladiatorial contests, or, maybe, it is to show new
clothes.

But, anyhdw, England will make a determined effort to
recapture the championship trophy that the Meadowbrook
team brought home two years ago, and successfully de-
fended last summer.

Six Hundred and Sixty-six Batters Hit by Ball,

Will the man who said baseball was not a dangerous
garne please step forward and allow the’ phrenologist to
untavel his locks and use the touch system on his bean, or
else submit to an examination by a committee of alien-
ists? Sree
By actual count, with the aid. of the adding machine,
666 batsmen were pounded on various sundry portions
~ of their anatomy by hurlers slightly lacking control. in
the two major leagues last season. No doubt the total
number of those wha would possibly make good material
for armor plates on Uncle Sam’s battleships will run to

 

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

nearly 700, as the National League averages do not con-
tain the record of any pitcher who worked in less than
fifteen games.

Figures show that in the American League 374 bat-
ters were awarded first base by reason of their durability,
and that in the National 292 were allowed to proceed
as a reward for their punishment. However, the latter
record is incomplete as only those who figured in fifteen
or more games are contained in the records.

Twelve Billion Hotses.

Twelve billion horse power—that is the combined elec-
trical power output of the 7,500 central stations in the
United States. Can you conceive what these figures actu-
ally mean?
recently put objected that “there aren’t that many horses
in the world!” There aren’t. The objection was perfectly
sound. But the fact remains that the power output of this
country’s central stations is just about equal to the energy
of those 12,000,000,000 hypothetical equines.

And that is not one-half of the total electrical power
produced in the United States. The 12,000,000,000 tofal
includes only public service companies and does not include
the great manufacturing companies which produce and
use their own power. The total power thus produced is
easily double the output of the central stations.

It is a little ‘difficult for the mind to grasp what such
vast amounts of power really mean. Take it this way:
The largest standard locomotives which pull the fastest
passenger trains are rated at about 5,000 horse power. It
would take nearly 5,000,000 of these big locomotives to
equal the energy produced by\ American electrical power
stations. Take the biggest transatlantic liner, nearly a
thousand feet long, with its engines rated at 70,000 horse
power. To equal the electrical power output of the United
States would take 342,857 of these liners, with combined
length that would reach more than twice around the globe.

Explorer at Age of 69 to Sail the Arctics.

Captain Peter Baytie, aged sixty-nine, probably the
last survivor of Doctor Charles Hall’s Franklin Research
expedition that sought for three years beginning in 1866,
for traces of the remains of Sir John Franklin’s expe-
dition to establish the fact that all its members had per-
ished, has undertaken in his old age to complete the work
he began as a.young man. He has purchased the old are-
tic schooner Duxbury, and now is outfitting her at Seattle,
Wash., for a ¢ruisé to Victoria land where Sir John
Franklin’s body is buried in a tomb made by his own men.

Hundreds of Boys Will Try for Prizes.

With an entry of 6,900 grammar-school boys already
in for the great physical training and athletic demon-
strations in Central’ Park, New York, the Public School
Athletic League believes it has broken all records for se-
curing entries for an athletic field day. This means that

138 of the 200 teams of fifty boys. which will be admitted —
have been secured by a single announcement to principals:

of schools convenient to car lines reaching Central Park.
The entries thus far received come from 100 different
public schools which will send from one to five teams to
represent the ‘progress iff physical training and athletics

accomplished under the new course of study and the

stimulation of the league’s competitive games for large

groups of boys. At the rate the entries are coming in

One literal man to whom the question was

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the lists probably will be closed a month in advance of’

the field day.’ :

Instead of having any difficulty in securing the entire
10,000 boys who are to take part at one time in the physical
and athletic training drills and compete in the monster
shuttle relay race and progressive team standing jump
competitions, the committee expects to have to refuse as
many entries as it can accept.

One school offered to send sixteen teams of fifty boys
—practically its entire grammar grade roll.

The work of the physical training instructors and the
league’s school workers will largely be confined to drilling
the entries to understand and act, start or stop, under the
new commands and signaling system which will have to be
adopted to put 10,000 boys into action at the same tick. of
the starter’s watch.

Brief Sporting News.

In the American League a new rule that a new ball
is to be thrown into the game whenever a foul is made
is helping to make the games faster. The fans are much
pleased, becatise they want action all the time. The old
“hidden ball” trick, by which basemen were able to trap
unwary runners, has been ruled out in this league.

In the last two seasons Lajoie and Jackson, the two
great Cleveland sluggers, have been at bat 1,906 times and
poled out 739 hits—a combined average of ,387.

Pitcher Cutting of the Milwaukee Brewers was the
first twirler to pitch a one-hit game in the American Asso-
ciation. And at that, it only was a scratch hit.

A new American intercollegiate record for the sixteen-
pound hammer throw was set in the twentieth annual
track and field meet of the University of California and
Stanford University. Karl Shattuck, of California, hurled
the hammer 175 feet 10 inches, the previous record, made
by Talbot, of Pennsylvania, being 173 feet 6 inches,

_ Frank Chance, manager of the New York Yankees,
handed Ray Keating, a youthful pitcher, a $100 check for
pitching a winning game against the Boston Red Sox,
the world’s champions in Boston recently. Keating is only

19 years old, and was surprised to he treated like this.
"The big leagues are to make a change in the contracts.
They will replace the words “For the season” with “For
“ seven months,” thus forcing the players to attend spring
practice.

Jean Dubuc, the Detroit Tigers’ pitcher, says that no
one taught him to throw his puzzling slow ball. Jean
says he is his own teacher,

Christy Mathewson, of the New York Giants, has a
wonderful record in regard to control. In his twelve
years in the majors Christy has pitched in 515 games and
allowed 775 bases on balls, an average of 1.68 per game.
In the three world’s series that Mathewson has worked
in—nine games—he fanned forty-one batsmen and allowed
but! eight passes.

/
A Convict’s Pastime.
John Atkinson, who is serving a life sentence in the

Ohio penitentiary, trains canary birds in the death chamber

of the prison.
Atkinson ‘has been in the penitentiary for many years.
» But for his attempt to escape shortly after he was com-
mitted for a minor offense he would to-day be a free man.
But in attempting to escape he killed a guard who blocked
his way. In spite of all that, Atkinson has shown that he

NEW TIP TOP

 

 

WEEKLY. ; 29

can be trusted, so he has been given the privilege of rais-
ing canaries in the death chamber, and the little yellow
singers are taught to fly from the arms of the electric
chair, in which Ohio murderers have met their death.
The birds like it, too. As soon as they can trust their
wings, Atkinson encourages them in making a longer flight,

‘starting from the chair and going as far and as high as

the old gallows, which is in another part of the room.

As soon as they have learned how to fly, he starts in with
their singing, which he accomplishes with the aid of.
a graphophone. By this method, Atkinson is able to do for
the birds what the ordinary vocal instructor performs for
his pupils. For the birds are charmed with the music,
and their singing lessons are continued until each one be-
comes a perfect warbler.

Atkinson does more than this with his birds—consider-
ably more. In an adjoining room there are condemned
men, who are awaiting death in this very chair upon which
his birds are being taught to fly, and their teacher does
not forget that they are there. It not infrequently happens
that the birds find their way into this adjoining room.
There is an opening just large enough to pass a canaty
through. And in this way, the unfortunate men them-
selves may hear the singing.

Hides Her Jewels in Mouth. -

A burglar picked the wrong place when he entered the
home of Miss Ethel Hall and her mother, at Los Angeles,
Cal. The two women were awakened by the intruder, who
asked in a husky whisper for money. The girl arose, 1o-
cated a purse containing 60 cents, and ‘took her jewelry
from the bureau drawer, where it was concealed. She
placed her valuables in her mouth with one hand, and
with the other seized a revolver and opened fire on the
burglar. He jumped through a window and escaped.

Eberfeld is Hot Fan;-Tells of Hottest Hit. “i

Kid Elberfeld, late of the New York and Washington
Americans, and now manager of the Chattanooga Southern
League Club, is the greatest fan in the country, accord-
ing to the majority of ball players in the big circuit. The
“Tabasco Kid’ eats, sleeps, and dreams baseball all the
time, off the field and on it. He has also had a very long
career on the diamond, and for that reason knows whereof
he speaks. /

It happened at a Cleveland hotel during one of a
series of games Washington was playing in Cleveland. The
talk had turned to the hardest hits ever made, and every
one was having his say, the Kid alone excepted, Finally,
when the other players had noticed that he was strangely

quiet in a conversation on the theme of which he was as

well qualified to speak as any present, they all turned to
him with one accord and demanded his opinion, He
pondered a second before beginning, then said slowly:

“Well, boys, I’ve seen ball players come and go, many
of ‘them mighty hitters, but when it comes right down to
picking the hard hitter of them all, you’ve got to hand it
to the big Frenchman right here in Cleveland. He hit
the hardest ball I ever saw hit, and may the saints keep me
from ever becoming mixed up with another such a drive as
he slammed at me several years ago on the hilltop in New
York.

“It happened in about the seventh inning of a hotly con-
tested game. Larry had been hitting the ball on the ‘pick’
all through the game, as he usually does when in New

  
30

York, and I, from my position at third base, was thankful
that none of his drives had come, anywhere near my
territory.

“In this inning the ‘King’ was up first, and I recall that
I was playing back rather deep at the time. The pitcher,
I don’t remember now who he was, put one in the ‘alley’
and Lajoie took a mighty poke at it. I was bent over
with ‘a hand on each knee, and the sound of wood and
leather had hardly reached me before I saw that ball come
shooting through the air toward me with the speed of a
rifle bullet. All I had time to do was to take my hands
off my knees and close them between my legs when the
ball reached me, struck fairly in the center of my glove,
and stuck. But I went on. I went right up into the
air, and came down flat on my back on the grass about
three feet back of the place where I had been crouching.

“For a moment I was stunned. The first thing I knew
the Cleveland coacher was standing over me and demand-
ing to know where I was hurt. But I wasn't, though I
was dazed a little by the shock of my fall. I took the
ball out of my glove and wrung my hand to see whether
I had broken any of the bones in it. Luckily my glove
had borne all the shock, though the member felt numb
for several hours. Clark Griffith ran out from the ‘dug-
out’ and shook me by the hand, while'all the other play-
ers congratulated me. But, boys,” and the Kid wagged his
head with emphasis, “if I could have got out of the way
of that ball, I would never have made the catch. , That is
why I say Larry is the hardest hitter. And I shall be-
lieve he is, too, to my dying day.”

Boiled Egg Proves to be a Ruby Mine.

A ruby, weighing almost half a carat, has been found in
a hen’s egg.

A young son of J. H. Randlett, of Hammonton, N. J.,.

opened a boiled egg into a cup and discovered a dark
object which a jeweler has declared to be a ruby of con-
siderable value. Some of the boy’s friends have begun a
search of the ground where Randlett’s hens feed, hoping
to find the source of the gem. Rubies of small size and of
slight value have occasionally been found in gravel pits
in New Jersey.

Says Police Must Not Kill,

Mayor Robert F. Milam, of Fort Worth, Texas, has
issued an edict that no policeman shall serve the city if
he kills a man. About ten officers have slain men while
on duty, and the others point out that they may as well
quit, for the order does not permit them to act in self-
‘defense except at the risk of losing their jobs.

The policemen are considering organizing and making
an official protest against the edict, and will point out that
if they are not allowed to fire in self-defense, that the
public will suffer more than the policemen.

“Pull” Won’t Help the Army Officer.’

The use of outside influence, or, as it is sometimes re-
ferred to in the army, the use of the “political pull,” will.
in the future act against instead of in favor of any army
officer seeking to gain promotion to a higher rank, trans-
fer to a more agreeable duty, or assignment to one of the
much desired special details in the gift of the presidént
or secretary of war. An order to this effect has been
recently issued.

In 1905 such an order was personally issued by President

NEW TIP’ TOP WEEKLY. ;

Roosevelt, but for several years the order has been pigeon-
holed, so. to speak, and the army has been full of com-
plaints regarding the promotion, or special assignment to
more pleasant duties, of various officers who, deservedly
or undeservedly, had the reputation of being men with a
“pull.”

In his “executive order,” issued in July, 1905, President
Roosevelt called attention to the fact that Congress, by
appropriate legislation, had made the matter of promotion,
assignments, and transfers the subject of statutory regu-
lation, and that the records as to the character, capacity,
military services, and general attainments of all the off-
cers in the army were on file in the war department.

“The records so obtained,’ Mr. Roosevelt added, “fully
set forth the relative merits of officers of all grades of
rank in the various’ branches of the line and staff, and
enable all vacancies which occur in the military service
to be filled after careful comparison of the records of

those officers who are eligible under the law for particular —

assignments or details. . .. Should it be discovered
that since the publication of this order an officer of the
army or navy has sought recommendation or support from
sources outside of those named, this fact will debar him
from obtaining the particular advancement, assignment,
or detail-which he has by such means attempted to secure,
and the fact that he has sought such influence will be
noted/on his official record.” :

Four years later, on March 3, 1909, President Roosevelt
issued a second executive order, calling attention to the
order of 1905 in which he reiterated what he had said in the
former order. Both of these orders will be incorporated
in the general order that Major General Wood, the chief
of staff, is about to issue on behalf of Secretary of War
Garrison.

“Notwithstanding these orders,” General Wood will say,
“this department is constantly in receipt of numerous re-
quests, written and oral, concerning the promotion, assign-
ment, transfer, detail, and other special treatment of of-
ficers in one service. In some instances of recent occur-
rence it has been found that the officer in question did not
desire the ‘thing requested in his behalf, and in many
others it is difficult to believe that the officer was not di-
rectly or indirectly responsible for the request, although it
came through a'third person and bore no direct evidence
of his participation therein. If the department heeds the
importunities of those who, by disobeying these orders in
letter or spirit, are enabled to reach it, the result is simply
to put a premium upon disobedience and to punish those
who strictly observe the orders.

“Hereafter any communication made to this department,

written or oral, requesting any promotion, assignment,

transfer, detail, or other special consideration for any
officer (excepting when made by the officer himself in the
proper way) will at’ once be referred to the officer in
question,. who will be required \to state whether the com-
munication was made directly or indirectly by his pro-
curement, and whether he avows or disavows the request.”

- The order was signed by General Wood “by order of

the secretary of war,” and by Brigadier General George
Andrews, the adjutant general of the army.

Find Stolen Boy After Long Hunt,

Robert Dunbar, the 8-year-old child who was kidnaped
at the home of its parents, near Opelousas, La., last August,
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his name as W. C. Walters was placed in jail at Columbia,
Miss, charged with kidnaping the child.

Walters, who travels about the country in a!’ wagon
repairing clocks, declared a widow in North Carolina gave
him the boy more than a year ago. The Dunbars and
their friends have spent several thousand dollars in séarch
of the child.

A One-legged Athlete.

_ Ralph Tompkins, a one-legged boy who is making a tour
of the world, sdys that this is his third long walking
trip, and that he will keep going until he has visited
most of the countries of the world. His first trip was
from New York to Chicago and return, which was made
in ninety-nine days. He next walked to Jacksonville
Fla, and back in ninety-one days. The longest. distance
he ever walked in a single day was thirty-two miles.
Tompkins lost his leg when he was four years old. His
home is in Poughkeepsie, N. Y., and he says he has no
trouble earning enough to make his way.

Close to Her Husband.

From midnight until eight o’clock in the morning a bride
sat shivering on the steps of Grant’s Tomb, in speaking
distance of her husband, but forbidden to exchange even
the tenderest bits of honeymoon conversation.

She was the wife of Lewis Baumann, a patrolman on
fixed post, to whom she was married at nine o'clock the
night before. Baumann had ‘been expected to be relieved
from duty, but an unromantic police captain ordered him
to his post as usual. So his bride decided to keep the
watch with him. Under the rules, policemen on fixed post
are forbidden to talk to citizens except in discharge of
their duty. The pair left arm in arm sharp at eight
o'clock.

Republic Run by Convicts.
One of the most troublesome tasks of the Russian privy

~~. councilor, N. A. Maglakoff, who has just been. brought

from governing Tchernigoff to the ministry of the interior,
is to decide what should be done with the Imansk Republic,
the mysterious commonwealth whose deeds and terrors
have astonished Russia during the past six months. For
‘twenty years this Imansk Republic has existed in the ¢zar’s
‘dominions, with its own constitution, laws, punishments,
printing press, and police, yet its discovery is only recent.
The Imansk Republic was found by the traveler, Kasimir

Veliki, who had made a tour up to the Ussuri and up part .

of the Iman River to look for sables. It lies 300 miles
from Vladivostock, in an unexplored part of Primorsk
of a tributary of the Ussuri. It is
entirely within the Rassian empire, and all other. villages
and settlements in the neighborhood are officially known,
and are subject to the jurisdiction of the ezar’s govern-
ment.

Veliki hit upon it accidentally, and with peril to himself.

» When crossing country which in the maps is marked blank,
} he came upon some isolated farms, and, farther on, a town
i) of about a thousand houses.
an ‘unknown Chinese settlement, he went on, and came
across Mongolian-looking infants, who, to his. surprise,
+ cried out to him in a mongrel Russian dialect.

Imagining himself to be near

A moment
“later he was challenged by an armed man, and seized.

He found himself in a big village with houses and church
mainly in Russian style, but showing strong Chinese influ-

 

ences; and he leatned that he was in a Russo-Chinese

_ holy men to build log houses and a log church.

    

31

community which called itself “Imanskava Respublika,”
and claimed to be independent both of the czar and of the
government of Pekin. Over a dirty inn floated a flag
which resembled the Russian tricolor, but was embroidered
with a bad copy of the Chinese dragon. By a stroke of
luck, and after surprising adventures, Veliki escaped before
he could find out more about this unknown republic.

At Viadivostock, Veliki’s story was at first not believed.
Afterward a commission of inquiry was sent out under the
escort of 500 Cossacks with three mountain guns. The
commission occupied the town by surprise, and returned to
Viadivostock with a complete report.

It discovered that the republic had first been started as
a holy retreat for ascetics, and that it afterward fell into
the hands of Russian and Chinese convicts, and prospered
amazingly. The, founder was the millionaire ascetic In-
nokenti Sibiriakoff, who inherited a fortune of $25,000,000,
fell under the influence of mystic persons, and finally

gave up his property and wandered about Siberia and Rus-

sia as a “Besserebrennik’—a beggar.

When traveling in east Asia he was struck by the se-
cluded position of the Inman. He gave $5,000 to three
The good
men, and 20 other persons, prayed there for three years.

In the fourth year there descended upon them a band
of Yakutsk convicts, who murdered the whole 23 persons.
These invaders started the Imansk Republic, which was at
first a mere robbers’ den, and for two years kept pirate
boats on the Ussuri River. The republic developed. More
bandits and convicts came, fought, murdered, and. drank.
Next came Chinese with their wives. The bandits mur- «
dered the Chinese and stole their wives. . The settlement

grew, made its own constitution and laws, and in the vil-

lage and country around counted nearly 5,000 adherents at
the time it was discovered by Veliki.

The Russian commission, carefully guarded by the 500
Cossacks, set itself to examine the laws and economic state
of the republic. ‘They had opportunities to see the law
at.work. When they entered the village a man was being
hung up by the heels for stealing a horse. And not far off
a naked Chinese, who had been beaten to death, lay in the,
snow. Around his body danced the Imansk women, who
sang menacing songs. The punished Chinese, it appeared,
had broken the local fishing law.

The Imansk population had invented, in their naive
ignorance, a-code of laws a hundred times more severe than
that of the ancient Hebrews. For about 20 offenses death
is inflicted. Among these is not counted murder. The pun-

_ishment for murder is’beating, and the payment of a fine «

of 30.poods of meat or fish. The “state attorney” of .
Imansk, an ex-convict named Kobuileff, gave the following .
as offenses for which the only punishment is death:

Whoever steals a sable skin is buried alive.

Whoever ‘steals the roots of the yenschen sane! is
drowned.

Whoever does not keep a dog as watchdog against in-
truders in the Imansk settlement is drowned. ;

Whoever leaves the village and tries to. make for a Rus-
sian settlement is beaten to death. :

Whoever lets his house catch fire is hanged. If his wife
only is guilty she is hanged and he is beaten with sticks.

The Imansk “starshina,” or elder, is the constitutional
chief of the republic. The real government is carried on by
an oligarchy consisting mainly of relatives of the convict
Znamensky, who led the first bandit invasion and organ-

  
NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

ized the massacre of the original ascetic settlers. All these
families are of mixed Russian and Chinese blood, and the
present chief of the settlement, Vassil Znamensky, sabia
like a pure Chinese.

The Imansk Republicans have taken extraordinary pre-
cautions to’ keep their existence a secret from the outside
world. The trappers, explorers, and tramps who have
fallen into their hands have always been put to death, ex-
cept where they undertook to join the republic, and never
to leave it. This choice, however, was very seldom given

to an educated person, as such would be likely to tire of
life in-the republic, and make an attempt to escape.

Plot to Kill Indians,

With the arrest, at Hugo, Okla. of V. Bronough and
E. L. Reed, charged with an attempt to poison Ellis Wood,
a Choctaw Indian, it develops an alleged system of poison-
ing aged Indians in order that their lands might be ac-

- quired has been disclosed by a government investigation.

According to government individuals, a number of In-
dians have been induced to bequeath their holdings for a
cash consideration, and recently twelve Indians have mys-
teriously disappeared.

“Pm a Fake,” Says a Seeress.
Mrs. Mary Thomas, of St. Louis, Mo., a seeress with a
frank disposition and a strong sense of humor, told a
committee of the council that her fortune telling was a

fake, and that she told the weaker sex “pleasant things’

because they wanted to be pleased.
‘ “T never give a reading to men,” explained Mrs. Thomas,
“because they are too wise. Can I unite lovers and make
matches? Well, I should say not. If I could I would
get a man for myself in a minute. /T hen, men don’t seem
to take to me; I am too fat, I suppose.”

Mrs. Thomas weighs’ 250 pounds.

Other clairvoyants and fortune tellers undertook to de-
fend themselves.

Old Convict Ship of Teak fs in Pott.

The ancient British convict ship Success, much like the
old hulk that the convict of Little Pip in Charles Dickens’
story, “Great Expectations,” fled from to the marshes, has
arrived at New York in tow of two harbor tugs and an-
chored in the upper Hudson. She has been showing her-
self to the New Englanders, and she is worth looking at
_/from the viewpoint of prison reformers and philanthropists

generally.

She has been patched up a bit since the days when she
transported across seas to the penal colonies of Great
Britain hundreds of felons and carried in irons hundreds
more who perished on the voyages, still,in irons.

_ Originally the Success was an armed East India mer-
_ chantman with old-fashioned ports, from which protruded
highly polished brass guns to fight off pirates that had a
habit of taking chances with ships bringing luxuries from
the Indies. She might have been regarded beautiful in

those days, but as compared with modern models or the

sleek, high-sparred clippers and -oncapog of the ‘50's she is
might homely. )

She was built at Moulmain in 1790 of teak. Her sides |

are two and a half feet thick at the bilge. She has
a square stern, quarter galleries, bluff bows, and other
peculiarities of the ships-of her era. She is 135 feet long,

| which was big for her day as a merchantman, but vessels”

of ices her length might be. 'sdepesaed from the davits
of the new Imperator or the Aquitania.

She never jmade any records as a merchantman, but she
created one when she made her last trip across the At
lantic under her own sail, by covering the course in ninety-
six days. This is the longest. Atlantic trip in modern times.

If the htiman. beings who died aboard her should
come back to make a personal inspection of her she would
be unable to accommodate them. Some of them, if the
brought along their human forms, would be unable to see
the old hulk, as they went blind before dying in the “bla
holes.”

The Success went out of commission as a convict aia
after the exposure in 1857 of the inhuman treatment of
prisoners under the bulk system. From 1860 to 1869 she
was used as a women’s prison and later was a reformatory
ship and ammunition store.

In 1892 the Success was scuttled by residents of Sy aries
N. S. W., after she had been sold. The owners, raised he
and used her and put her on exhibition. She has bee
shown five times in London, and her press agent declar
that 15,000,000 have since looked her over, including th
King of England, the German emperor, and the Prince’
of Wales. She was brought to Boston by a crew of
Britons under command of Captain John Scott, who
worn out when she reached Boston harbor.

Elephant Thtows Man Through Tent.

An elephant reached with his trunk beneath a circus
at Oakland, Cal., recently, grasped G. J. Gardiner, of Jack
sonville, Fla., a circus employee, dragged him into the ten
and hurled him through the canvas walls. Gardiner’s wri
was broken, a number of ribs fractured, and he was oth
wise viii aiee injured.

” Eatly-morning Sport a Fad at Wisconsin.

Sunrise sports are fashionable among the Unive: sity
Wisconsin students, including the co-eds. The first ,
in that direction was interfraternity baseball gam
started at five o’clock in the morning. Then other stu-
dents hit upon the scheme of going canoeing on Lak M
dota, getting out at the same hour. Then some
students invited the co-eds to accompany them upon the
sunrise canoeing parties, nor were any of the inyit
tions declined. The co-eds have now set the: pace
matter of early rising, for o one morning a party oO

the dim dawn over the sctreunting hills.

Ballets With Wings

Tests have been made in Germany with a special Proj
tile which is intended to repel dirigibles and whic ig

fluence of a spring, compressed while the projectil

in the rifle barrel, but expanded as soon as the
passed. An ordinary bullet leaves such a small ho
an envelope that the gas escapes through it bu
The wings on the improved bullet tear a Hole of

let sufficiently to cause a friction device to ignite ful 1
contained in the bullet. The experiments gave enc
ing results. betes

 
 
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58— Dick Merriwell, American.
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770- -Frank Merriwell’s Young Canadian.
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72 —Frank Merriwell’s Perplexity.

73—Frank Merriwell’s Intervention.
74—Frank Merriwell’s Daring Deed.

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76—Frank Merriwell’s Wit.
7 Frank Merriwell’s Loyalty.
78—Frank Merriwell’s Bold Play.
79 —_F rank Merriwell’s Insight.
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82—-Frank Merriwell in the
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795—Dick Merriwell’s Commencement.
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800—Dick Merriwell Caught Napping.
801—Dick Merriwell in the Copper Coun-
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802—Dick Merriwell Strapped.
803—Dick Merriwell’s Coolness.
804—Dick Merriwell’s Reliance.
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806—Dick Merriwell’s Young Pitcher.
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817—Dick Merriwell in Panama.
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819—Dick Merriwell Triumphant.
820—Dick Merriwell’s Betrayal.

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848—Dick Merriwell in Stockholm.
849—Dick Merriwell in the Swedish
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850—Dick Merriwell’s Marathon.

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2—Frank Merriwell, Jr., in the Box.

38—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Struggle.

4—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Skill.

5—Frank Merriwell, Jr., in Idaho.

6—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Close Shave.

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