——S ——— ee = —— = F -: 4 AST ————— -——— 4 I ng cece teeter eenaaone _—— ———— SS ee ae ca = een onal ateetnnd | Tl i in i i I i Hy TP 1 Ji AntIdeal Publication For The American Youth UV 79-89 Seventh Ave., New York. Issued Weekly. Entered as Second-class.Matter at the New York Post Office according to an act of Congress, March 3,1879. Published by STREET & SMITH Copyright, 1918, dy STREET & SMITH. , O. G. Smith and G. C. Smith, Proprietors. TERMS TO NEW TiP TOP WEEKLY MAIL SUBSCRIBERS. (Postage Free.) Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5c. Each, How to Send Money—By post-office or express money order, registered letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At your own risk ifsent by currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter. CHAPTER £ A MATTER OF IMPORTANCE, I “You’re wanted at the headquarters adobe, Chip.” Billy Ballard shouted the summons. Young Frank Merriwell, ‘chip of the old block,” and for that reason “Chip” to his friends more often than “Frank,” turned and shouted a cheery “All right, Pink, be there in a minute.” Chip was at the top of a short ladder which leaned against the big solution tank. With a long-handled dip- per he was filling a glass jar out of the tank’s contents. cyanide “plant,” to secure every morning a the solution for Alf Ralston, the assayer., After once more hanging the dipper on the tank’s rim, Chip carefully descended the ladder with the filler jar, carried it into the assayer’s office, and set it on the table; then he starteg¢ at once for the headquarters adobe. Somewhat to his surprise, he found ,his. two chums, Ballard and Clancy, waiting for him with Dick Merriwell and Brad Buckhart. “Anything wrong?” Chip asked, casting a quizzical glance around the little room. “I should say so, Chip,” answered the red-headed Clancy, with a grin. “You won’t do any bossing around the tanks any more, Pink has to give up his time book _ to somebody elsé, and a greaser has taken my place check- ing the loads of ore. We're fired.” — _ “I don’t know whether to weep or sing ditties,” said Ballard. “I was just beginning to get a little fun ont of this timekeeper’s job, and now that the ball team has been licked into shape, I was counting on some _ great sport on the diamond.” He heaved a long sigh. “But it’s all off, I guess,” he finished. sample of It was part of his work, as temporary foreman of the ~ 3 MONEHS. ....+- 20-8 UF ROE PORN GHC TIO VOBE atta 24 cick naa. aera Weignes $2.50 Receipts—Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged by proper change 4 MONEDS. « siesee . asics caceceedoreccee BOG, 2 COPIES ONE VEAP......ccceces cvsese’ 4,00 of number on your label. If not correct you have not been properly credited, BEI OU LN os an'5'o kde domaine s vine a.d weg $1.25 1copy tw0 yearsi.ci... ciccccccccess 4,00 and should let us know at once. No. 35. NEW YORK, March 29, 1913. Price Five Cents. Frank Merriwell, Junior’s, Special Mission: Or, DICK MERRIWELL’S MAIL. By BURT L. STANDISH. “Are you fellows joshing?’ demanded Frank, half suspecting a joke in the remarks of his two chums. Buckhart laughed heartily. “I opine Pink and Red have got you going some, Chip,” said, “but it’s not so bad by a whole heap as they're trying to make out.” “Sit down, Chip,” spoke up Dick, smiling, “and I'll tell you all about it.” With a feeling that there was something important on the program, in spite of the light talk of Ballard and Clancy, Frank drew up a chair and gave his uncle his attention. “It’s a fact,” proceeded Dick, “that I’m going to take -you boys off the work here at the Pactolus Mine; not because you haven't done your work well but because your services are demanded in other quarters. Every- thing, now, is in pretty good shape. You did splendidly with that baseball nine, Chip, and last Saturday you and your Wonders won a great game from the Golden Eagle Giants. Every Mexican in the camp is rejoicing over that victory, and all the laborers are contented. The nine is a good thing, for it gives the spirits of the Mexi- cans a chance to effervesce peaceably. So long as the Pactolus Mine is worked, that ball team you revived and whipped into shape will be a recognized institution in this camp. Such a policy will make for clean and ex- citing sport, and is just what the hands need to keep them in line.” ; Dick was silent and thoughtful for a few. moments. Then he continued: : “As you know, we are only in charge of the Pacto!us Mine temporarily, and to help out some Yale friends of Brad’s and mine who own the property. We have picked up a losing proposition and brought it to an 2 NEW orderly and paying basis. As soon as the new super- ‘intendent arrives, which | hope will be in a short time, we will allyleave here for places and occupations that are more congenial. Brother Frank, 1 know, will not want you kept away from your books too long, Chip; and,” here Dick’s eyes. twinkled, “I suppose Pink and Clan are hungry to return to Professor Borrodaile and their studies.” “T can hardly wait,’ groaned Clancy, of feigned melancholy at Ballard. “Is it not so, Pink?” “It is. not,” returned Pink promptly. ‘I know too much, anyhow, and if I never saw an Anabasis for a year I guess I could stand it.” Buckhart chuckled. Dick smiled, and went on: “Well, there may be quite a little to do before you lads. return to Blyfield for the spring sports, but I’m hoping it won’t take long and that we shall soon be relieved of our responsibilities here. For a week, now, I have been expecting important mail from the East— communications that will instruct us further regarding the Pactolus and the coming of the new superintendent. Last Saturday evening I sent Rody to Phoenix with an si order on the postmaster for the Pactolus mail. . He was told to hurry, and he should have been back yester- day. Here is it Wednesday, and no sign of Rody. I can't imagine what’s keeping the lad.” A perturbed look crossed Dick Merriwell’s face. It was reflected in Buckhart’s. . “Rody’s all. right, Uncle Dick,” said Frank quickly, guessing that there was a suspicion “to the contrary in the minds of his uncle and Brad. “T hope so, Chip,” continued Dick, thought so or I should not have intrusted Rody with such an important errand. The letters I am expecting I should. not care to have fall into other hands. But,” and here Dick’s voice became grave, “since Rody has failed to make a quick trip as he was asked to do, I can hardly help wondering if the boy is really all right, as you say. ms 3ut look what he did for- from Frank; ‘ throwing a look “and J Sidahely me,” burst impetuously ‘yes, and for Pink and Clan, too! When we were coming to the mine for the first time, wasn’t us where to go? If it hadn’t been for him, Holbrook, and Andrus, and Robinson. would have got away with the bullion they took from the Pactolus.” “That's correct, Chip,” answered Dick, “and on the showing Rody made.in that matter of the bullien I gave him a good job in our freighting department. However, we don’t know much about the youngster. You and your chums met him when you first reached Phoenix, As I understand it, he had some words with Clancy, and Clancy knocked him down ; after that, Rody: showed the good side of his nature by making friends with all of you, and he followed you and saved you from the treachery of Andrus. But just who is this Rody?” ' “He’s a stray and a tmaverick,” put in Brad, “and he may be straight goods, or—the other thing. I’m in- clined to ‘low the kid’s all right, but his failure to get back with the important mail raises a doubt.” “Exactly,” and Dick nodded. \ “A doubt has been raised and it has got to be scitied. _ mission, Chip. I know how friendly you and your chums TIP TOP ‘son. had also been allowed to get away. Sim Andrus gave us the slip during the sandstorm, while it Rody who followed us, and picked us up, and showed Pactol us Wonders. That is your special Uncle Dick. WEEKLY. feel toward Rody, and I felt sure you would rather go to Phoenix and look him up rather than to have me send sj | any oneyelse. Pedro Salinas will take your place as fore- =| ) man at the cyanide ‘plant, Pedro has done good work =| for us and deserves something in the way of reward. A couple of young Mexicans on the ball team can take. the places of Pink and Clan. A’ clever schedule of sports. a o seems about as important at the Pactolus. Mine as any . ¥ branch of the work. During the remainder of the time a. we're here, I believe I shall appoint you boys a commit- 2 tee of three to superintend athletic contests.” Frank’s mind was running on Rody. He felt that to ; suspect Rody’s loyalty was to do him an injustice, and o yet it was hard to see how suspicion could be avoided. R There had been a peculiar situation at the Pactolus Sei Mine. Holbrook, the former superintendent, had been os t - stealing the bullion. Helping him in the lawless work were two.men, named Sim Andrus and Robinson. The | super had worked so secretly that the loss of the gold had become a baffling mystery. Dick Merriwell attd his brother, Frank, were financially interested in the mine, and when the owners, who were all Yale grads, had asked Dick to go personally and make an investigation, he had accepted the call. With the aid of Chip and his chums, Dick had unmasked the treacher- ous Holbrook within twenty-four hours after reaching — the Pactolus property. Holbrook’s relatives in the East were respectable people, and Dick had spared them dis- grace by letting Holbrook escape. Andrus and Robin- Part of Holbrook’s plans had been to manipulate atf- fairs in such a way that the owners of the mine would think it a money loser instead of a money maker, Had he succeeded in this, the former superintendent could have purchased the mine for a fraction of its value. Dick, s aided by young I'rank, had nipped this precious scheme pu in the bud. Th Holbrook, Andrus, and Robinson were in hiding some-- where in the hills, and seemed bent on making all the trouble possible for those in temporary charge of the — xES Pactolus property. Andrus had stirred up the Mexi- | cans to a dangerous pitch, ant much damage would have © sel been caused had not Dick, by a happy thought, sug- fine gested that Frank’ revive the ball team known as the. the The Mexicans became so interested in the ball team that they had no time for Andrus and his plots. That bit of trouble had blown over, and the laborers — hol at the mine seemed once more happy and contented. — bef Over this peaceful condition of affairs, however, there | es . still fell the forbidding shadows of Holbrook, Andrus, to and Robinson, Dick and his friends were positive th at the thrée schemers were waiting and watching for an opportunity _ fell to get even with those who had frustrated their plots. and And in this surmise lay all the suspicion so suddenly. ef aroused against Rody. — : Pin Had the disgraced superintendent, or one of his con- ie ne wha federates, managed to bribe Rody and secure the im- portant letters which Dick was expecting from the East? Frank intuitively felt that this question, just then, was uppermost in the minds of his uncle and Brad Buck- | hart. 1 “Rody,” Frank declared,. “is as straight as a string, He hasn’t come back with the mail, as NEW) Tah ° TOPO WLERLY. 3. you expected, that.” “What reason, Chip’ inquired Dick quietly. “Suppose he was waylaid on his trip back to the mine and the mail taken from him? He wouldn’t be responsible for that, you know.” “Te could come back to the mine and report—if such a ‘thing had happened.” A look of concern showed itself in I'rank’s face. he—he might not be able to dome back “Perhaps not; “and report.” “T had thought of that, too, but I, have Rody is amply able to take care of himself. to do the youngster an injustice, Chip, reason I am sending three of his friends “When do you want us to start?” “T think you had better make your preparations to go ‘to-day, directly after dinner. Take your pick of the saddle stock, and get the ‘doctor’ at the chuck shanty to supply yott with rations. Those letters from the East are of the greatest importance, and I do not want them, _ by any chance, to fall into the hands of Holbrook.” “We'll go,” said Frank, “and we'll bring back Rody and the mail. And I’m obliged to you, Uncle Dick, for giving me this special mission. Whether it’s a long trail or a short one, we'll keep to it until we run it out.” an idea that I don’t want and for that after him.” CHAPTER: 11; CHARCO LARGO, Two days were commonly required for the journey between the Pactolus Mine and Phoenix. By starting shortly after noon on Wednesday, Frank expected to push the horses and reach town in the early evening, Thursday. In order to accomplish this, the water hole known as Charco Largo must be reached for the night’s camp, and not more than six hours could be spared for rest at that point. Three of the best horses in the camp corral had been selected for the trip. The animals were fresh and in fine fettle and, although the afternoon sun beat down mercilessly, they got over the trail at a rapid clip. “At this rate, Chip,” said Ballard, “we'll get to Charco ‘Largo by seven o’clock, and that will give us eight hours ‘to snooze instead of six. If we start from the water hole by three in the morning we ought to reach Phoenix before the post office closes for the day. _ “You’re doing your darndest, Pink,” “remarked Clancy, “to get two hours more sleep at Charco L argo.’ “Tf I was red-headed, I suppose I wouldn’t need so much, sleep. A fiery thatch like yours must make a : fellow restless a long while before it’s time to get up, -and——”, “Oh, you fall off the earth! You're a lazy hunks, ~ Pink, and you can’t blame the color of your hair for it. Anyhow, this thatch of mine isn’t so blamed fiery. It’s what you call next-to-Syracuse hair.” _ “Auburn, eh?” “A delicate tint of auburn’ Leave it to Chip. the kind that old geezer Titian loved to paint.” “Titian must have had bats in his loft. reach Charco Largo by seven, Chip?” “Tf we get there by nine, Dink,” “we'll be doing well.” - Frank had not been paying much attention to his It’s Think we'll Merry answered, but there may be some other reason for ‘boiler in the mill engine room. chums’ jollying. There was a thoughtful look o:t his face. As soon as he had answered Ballard’s question, he dropped back into his thoughtful mood once more. “What’s fretting you, old man?’ queried Clancy: “Trying to figure out what’s happened to Rody,” was the response. “T’ve figured that out already,” ‘Sure you have!” jeered Clancy. as anybody, Pink, if you could only think of it.” laughed. “What’s happened to Rody?” he finished. “After your insulting remarks about my intellect, I don’t suppose I should pay any attention to you, but I will. My idea, Smarty, is this: Rody went to the post office after the mail. There wasn’t any mail. So Rody concludes to wait in Phoenix until it comes. I'll bet we find him there, or else meet him on the trail, pound- ing back to the Pactolus with a pocketful of letters.” This was a very simple explanation of what had ap- peared like a profound mystery. No one seemed to have thought-of it but Ballard. “That? s a great guess, Pink,” said Frank, you ‘re not so far from the mark.” “The beauty of it,’ returned Ballard complacently, “lies in its simplicity.” . “You couldn't exert yourself to think of anything real complicated,” put in Clancy. “What’s a straight line, you red-headed faultfinder?” asked Ballard. “The shortest distance from one_thing to another.” “Correct. That’s’ the trail my reason follows when it’s up against a problem like this ‘of Rody’s.” / “T’ve a hunch, Pink,” said Frank, “that Rody has been interfered with.” “By Holbrook?” “Yes; or by Andrus or Robinson.” “You think that bunch know Dick is expecting im- portant mail from the East?” queried Clancy. “We know that they keep pretty well informed of all that goes on at the mine. I suppose they have some one on the job who keeps track of things and commu- nicates with them. Maybe it’s big Salvadore. He was discharged from the cyanide gang, but he still hangs out in the Mexican quarter at the Pactolus. He may have discovered that important letters were expected, and have gotten word to some of those chaps in the hills. That' would have given them a tip to ‘lay’ for Rody.” * “Tf it wasn’t Salvadore,” said Ballard, “then maybe it was Bajo Sol. Sol is the greaser who tried to brain. me with a stick of wood. I threw a stool at his legs, and he fell with the side of his face against the hot Just on account of that I suppose Bajo Sol has a healthy eas at all the Ameri- canos at the Pactolus.” “Whether it’s Salvadore, or Bajo Sol, or stank elses. commented Frank, “‘it’s a cinch ‘there's a spy at the mine.” “Dick and Brad,” put in Clancy, ‘ ‘are half inclined to. think that Rody may have proved himself a traitor.” “We -know better than that,” said Merry. ‘There isn’t a treacherous hair in Rody’s head.” | “Remember what Sim Andrus said when he was taking us out to the mite? He said he wouldn’t trust Rody around the biock.” ene ~ “And all the while Andrus was- planning to giye us — put in Ballard. “You know as much He “and maybe a Nic At $i the slip in the desert!) He was a good one to throw it into Rody!” i “I’m for Rody like a house afire, Chip,” declared Clancy. “Whenever I can knock a fellow into the ditch, and he gets right up and shakes hands. with me, I’m for him all the time. His tongue may have kinks in it, but he never stutters when he tries to do the square thing.” “Now you're shouting, Red!” wish we knew more about Rotly. They say he has been knocking around these deserts ever since he was knee-high to a puddle duck. Why, he doesn’t even know his own name, and the cowboys called him Rodeo. May- be his dad is a rich man somewhere, and Rody is a sec- ond Charley Ross.” “That’s too much like a story book,” objected Clancy. “Things never pan out that way in real life.” “The worst part of. Rody’s past,” said Merry, “is that it leads people to suspect he is crooked. Even Uncle Dick and Brad Buckhart have their doubts.” “I think they’re on the fence, Chip,” returned Ballard. *They’ve got to account for Rody’s failure to get back to camp with the mail, and they’re just waiting to see what develops. It’s up to us to find out what’s wrong— or to meet Rody and escort him into camp with a bunch of letters that didn’t reach Phoenix according to sched- ie As the declared Ballard. ‘th sun declined, its heat lessened. About six -oclock Frank called a brief halt and allowed the horses to rest. The animals were thirsty and restless, however, and took little comfort out of the brief respite. Be- fore seven o’clock the boys were “hitting the trail’ again, and making for Charco Largo at a stez dy jog. The sun dropped out of sight suddenly. That is the way with the sun in those latitudes. There was broad day; and then, presto! night had come, but it was a night brilliant with moon and stars. The distant hills, the bunches of greasewood and cactus, stood out with the soft clearness of objects in a silver print. Far off the coyotes yelped shrilly. Now and then a “road runner” fluttered across the trail like a streak of shadow. The air was gratefully. cool. The horses, seem- ing to realize that water and forage lay but a short dis- tance ahead, quickened their pace without urging. — “Great night!’ murmured Clancy, “This air goes to a fellow’s head like champagne.” ge do you know about champagne?” inquired Bal- ard. “Qh, shucks !” grunted the red-headed chap. ‘Can’t I indulge i in a refined: HERS, of speech without your taking a shot at it?” “Figure of speech is ; good, but I’m interested in other figures. Let’s try and figure how far we are from. Charco Largo. What do you say, Chip?” “We’ re liable to come upon that water hole at any minute,” Frank answered. “It’s to the right of the road. I’ve been looking ahead for that chaparral of mesquite _ for the last half hour. If—— Merry broke off his words abruptly, His eyes were fixed on a spot in the distance. Rising in his stirrups, he continued to peer sharply at something that had attracted his attention. © "What's biting you, Chip?” asked Clancy. “Look ahead, there,” was the answer. “I think I see _ something that looks like a bit of a camp fire.” , Li TUR their picket pins. WEEKLY. Clancy and Ballard stared hard. There was certainly a faint, starlike glow some distance in advance of them. It stood out against a background of deep shadow. ‘That blot of shadow,” remarked Ballard, with interest, “is on the right of the trail. Perhaps it’s the chaparral at Charco Largo?” “And some one is camping there,” “We're to have company for the night.” There’s a saying that “one meets only enemies in the desert.” Frank began wondering whether the campers at the water hole would prove desirable companions. “Maybe they’re Mexican wood haulers,” he remarked. — The wood haulers ranged far in their search for fuel. Some of the wood was sold to the mines, but most of it was drawn to Phoenix.., As the boys came closer, restraining the eagerness of their horses as a measure of precaution, the camp fire ~ came out more clearly. The fire had apparently served its usefulness and had been allowed to die down'into a few bright embers. There were no wagons to. be seen, and only one horse was picketed in the mesqifite. horse whinnied loudly, and was answered in kind by the animals ridden by the boys. A solitary human figure could be seen stirring around the dying, fire. “No wood haulers there,” said “Clancy, “There’s only one horse and one man,” lard. “Say,” he added, in some excitement, you bet that fellow is Rody?” This was a suggestion that electrified Merry and, — Clancy. Hoping against hope that it was really the missing Rody, on his way back to the mine and stay- added Clancy, added Bal- “what do ing over for a few hours at Charco Largo, they let their at top — horses out and bore down on the water hole speed. 4 The forlorn ae went glimmering, however. The — shape that took mor, distinct form under their eyes . was that of a man in blue shirt and “chaps.” . “Howdy, strangers !”’ close and drew to a halt. “Get down and make your- — selves to home. I was allowin’ I’d have a lonesome time — of it here, but Waal, thunder and carry one! Say, — young Merriwell, if it ain't! Don’t you know me, kid?” And, with that, the man stepped closer to Frank. CHAP TBR Tit: DLS TU RR TN: GROW: Si Merry peered into the man’s dusky face. The fellow wore a broad grin, at once genial and kindly. “Seems as though I’ve seen you somewhere before,” Frank answered vaguely. “Jist oncet, younker, Them other two with ye seen» me the same. It was at Pardo’s c’ral in town, time you started with Sim Andrus for the Pactolus diggin’ soln Cisco, John Cisco, of the Star X outfit. I ‘remember like anything the way Redhead there jolted Rody into the ditch with a right-hander. Wow, but that was did — quick! But get down, get down, This bein’ the: last waterefor quite a spell of trail, I reckon as how you’re goin’ to turn out and turn in. Maybe we can palaver some before you roll up in your blankets, and maybe «I. got something to tell that you all want to know.” The boys watered their horses, stripped away th saddles, and saddlebags, and blanket rolls, and drove i ‘They came back to join the cowb ry The the man called, as the boys rode NEW. TIP at the fire, each feeling somehow close to news of Rody. “What have you got to tell Cisco?” Merry asked. : “Better hit your chuck supply first,” the cowboy an- swered. “Come from the Pactolus, haven’t ye? That’s right smart of a jump, and you must be hungry. . I’ve had my rig but I wouldn't mind jinin’ ye in another. Allers got a place for vittles. Never yet seen the time 1 couldn't yarctoube all the chow in sight. My evenin’ square was sort of limited to a link of bologna and a pound of crackers. Sufferin’ snakes, what a layout!” The latter remark was drawn forth by the sight of the rations, prepared by the camp “doctor,” which Bal- lard had just shaken out of a fat saddlebag. Roast- beef sandwiches and cold fried chicken comprised the biggest part of the menu, and evidently they carried a powerful appeal to Johnny Cisco. Restraining their impatience for news, the boys laid out their food supply: and invited Cisco to join them. It was clear, from the havocy’the cowboy proceeded to make with the “spread,” that a “link of bologna and a pound of crackers” had left a large gap in his appetite. He ate as much as all three of the lads put together, and finally washed down the last mouthful with a long pull at a canteen, “Gracias,” said he, drawing the back of his his lips and leaning back; “that was some spread, and no' mistake. Allers did have ‘a weakness for fried ~ chicken.” He fished around in his pockets and brought out a packet of brown cigarette papers and a bag of tobacco. “TH make one apiece for ye,’ he offered, Wrist to be sociable.” | “We don’t indulge, Cisco,” we are just as much obliged.” “Now, ain’t that remarkable?” murmured the cow- boy. “Nothin’ makes a good meal set better than a dozen whiffs at a cigareet. Ain’t ye never had a hankerin’ for the oh-be-joyful ?” “No,” Frank answered, with a laugh. joyful’ is poor stuff for the nerves.’ “T got a iron nerve,” said Cisco, lighting up, couldn’t blow a hole in it with dynamite.” _ He half reclined on his saddle and, for a few moments, whiffed the whitish vapor into the air. ‘You lookin’ for somebody?” he ‘asked presently. “Ves,” said Frank, “Can it be Rody, by any chance?’ “It’s Rody. Have you seen him?” “T have, sure, and that same Rody was some worked up. Run into a spell of hard luck, Rody has. You’d think he was locoed, way he acted. a volcaner and could hardly, talk. tion of sound, but darn few words. down he managed to’ explain.” “Where was it you saw him, eagerly. “In Phoénix?” “Nary. It was at Tinaja Wells, _ stitions ; and that was last night. Rody was campin’ there all by his lonesome. 1 dropped in on him by chance, same as you kids jist dropped in on me.’ _ Cisco was provokingly long in coming to the point. That was his way, however, and there was nothing to nie but to let him take his time. “Seems this Dick Merriwell, who’s been doin’ things as though they were us that we want to know, hand across returned Merry, “although “This ‘oh-be- “and ye There was an ertp- When he got quieted Cisco?” asked Frank over to’rd the Super- TOP He sputtered like language. WEEKLY, , s at the Pactolus with a good deal 0’ your help, son, sent Rody to Phoenix arter the mail. He gives Rody an order sayin’ as how the postmaster was to deliver to bearer any letters in the,offce that belonged to. the mine. Waal, Rody camped right here at Charco Largo, fust night out on the trail to town. When he went to sleep he had that order for mail under the sweatband of his Stetson: When he woke up-he didn’t have it.” ‘Had he lost it?” asked Ballard, in some agitation. ‘He opined likely he had lost it—for. a spell,” Cisco went on, “and he started to combin’ the chaparral on his hands and knees. He hadn’t hunted Jong afore he found somethin’ else—and that was footmarks, fresh made, and not matchin’ Rody’s boots at all. Then the kid knew some un had crawled up on him while he was asleep and took that order for mail out of his hat. He didn’t know whether he ort to go back to the mine for another order or pike on to Phoenix and tell the postmaster to hold the mail against the order that was given to him originally. But at last he hit the breeze in the direction 0” Phoenix.” “Did he get there in time to have the postmaster hold the mail?” demanded the excited Clancy. “He did not,” proceeded Cisco, “he was too late. Feller had already presented the order and got the mail—four letters, all for this Dick Merriwell at the Pactolus.” “Jove,” muttered Merry, “that was hard luck!” “Tt sure was. [| allow it come purty nigh throwin’ Rody into a fit. Who do you allow _pushed that order through the cat hole at the postmaster ¢ “Did Rody find out?’ “You can gamble your spurs he did! Andrus.” “Andrus!” chums. “That’s whatever... Sim Andrus, the sneakin’ coyote, had crawled up on Rody, here at Charco Largo, and stole the bit of paper talk. Then he had got the let- ters, and put out for the hills. Rody was trailin’ him.” “Did Rody have’ any idea where he was bound for?” asked Frank breathlessly, ‘Pardo at the c’ral give him a tip. Sim was makin’ haste toward his father-in-law’s, at Eureka Springs. Sam Fosson, old Sport Fosson, is Sim’s father-in-law. He’s got a rancho at the Springs. Married a sefiorita, Fos- son did, and he seems to think a heap more o’ greasers than he does of Americanos. Rody, when I met him — at Tinaja Wells last night, was humping himself to get to Fosson’s. He allowed he’d overhaul Andrus there and get back the letters. But I dunno. It’s a good deal of a job for a kid like Rody. Of course, I’ve knowed Rody ever since he was picked up out of the alkali, and he’d talk to me like he would to his own dad. He reeled off “what I’m a-tellin’ you as fast as he could—which wasn’t none too rapid, because of the impediments in his You savvy how he stutters generally; waal, it’s a heap worse when he’s worked up about anythin’. I tried to tell him there wasn’t any use goin’ to Fos- — son’s, and that he couldn’t play a lone-handed game against Fosson and his hull fambly. But Rody had the — bit in his teeth, and there was no headin’ him. .li. I _ hadn’t been out on important business for the Star X, — I’d sure have trailed along with Rody jist to, see he got Sim it was came dn a breath from Frank and his two -a square deal; but I hadn’t the time, so Rody went. on alone.” _ daffy on that. “hook out his blankets, all his greasers on t’other side. the mornin’, I reckon?” “How far is Fosson’s from here?” asked Frank. “An easy ja’nt to-morrow. Twelve mile from here to Tinaja, and then ten from there to Eureka Springs. But I don’t allow you kids had better foller Rody, if that’s your. idee.” “Why not?” “Waal, you’d better go back to the mine for your Uncle Dick and a real warlike little army. Fosson runs to lawlessness a lot, and right this minute there’s a passel 0’ greasers camped at the Springs for the sports Fosson is so daffy about. Word got to the Springs about that ball game you all had at the Pactolus, and it got Fosson right excited. I hear he’s called in all the greasers that can ride, run, or shoot, and intends havin’ a few sportin’ events for his amusement. As I say, Fosson is He'll smuggle stuff across the border— anything from opium to Chinamen—and he’s a bad pill lots of other ways, but he’s got the sportin’ bee in his bonnet, and: whenever the mood takes him, he has com- petitions. A fit took him when he got news of what was goin’ on at the Pactolus last Saturday, so he’s havin’ a: little carnival of skill and prowess on his own hook. Old Fosson is sure crazy on this sport proposition. He sent a hurry-up call over to the Star X for athletes, but our boss tells the mesenger mafiana:. Old Fosson isn’t his style, and he don’t want a thing to do with him.” All this about Rody’s troubles proved disturbing news to Merry, Clancy, and Ballard. “Fosson wouldn’t dare harbor a man who has stolen — important mail matter, would he?” Frank asked. “T reckon he would, seein’ as how that man’s his son- -in-law. Fosson aims to do about as he pleases. The only way to bring him to time is by declarin’ war and goin’ against him with a force big €nough to make him do the right thing. That’s why I’m advisin’ you to go back to the Pactolus after a crowd.” “By the time we went back to the mine and got Uncle Dick,” said Frank, “Andrus would probably have been able to get rid of those letters.” “Sure, son, and maybe he has had time already.” “I think we'll take chances on that. Rody’s there, and we ought to join him just as soon as we can.” “What’ll you do when you get there?” queried Cisco, eying young Frank curiously. “Tf Andrus is there I’ll tell Fosson what he has done and demand my uncle’s letters.” “He'll give you the laugh.” “Then we'll do something else,” said Frank. “What?” “Tl have to think about that,’ Frank! answered, as he “It’s a plain case of stealing, and I shouldn’t wonder if it’s an offense against the govern- ment.” : “The order said them letters were to be given to ‘bearer.’ I don’t reckon, son, the gov’ment is mixed up in it at all., It’s between you and Andrus, with Fosson and Want an early start in “Ves.” ( “So dol. We'll have time for a bit of powwow afore we part company. If you can’t think of anythin’ durin’ the night, maybe I will. I like your grit, anyways, and I sure wisht I could do somethin’ to help. Buenas noches, ca sewes("*. All took to their blankets, and the camp at Charco NEW:-TIP: TOP: WEEKLY. Largo was soon plunged into a silence disturbed only by the stirring of the horses and the distant yelping of coyotes CHAPTER IV. CISCO’S IDEA. It was still dark when Johnny Cisco kicked aside his blankets and gave vent to a bloodcurdling yell. All three of the boys were startled, and Ballard came right up on his feet as though shot into that position by a powerful spring. “Great Scott!’ he gasped. “What’s that?” “What the mischief do you mean by that, Cisco?” demanded Frank. - “I mean two things by it, pard,” shouted the cowboy. “First off, the sun’s hittin’ them stars over in the east, and it brought me out of my blankets like an alarm clock. For another thing, I got an idee. Minute that idee landed on me, I had to yell, it was that good. While we’re finishin’ up them sandwiches and fried chicken, Ill elucidate.” “Gee,” said Clancy, “I thought an earthquake had . broken loose. It didn’t sound very much as though somebody had just dropped a remark.” “It happens seidom that I get a real, mucho fino idee same as this here,’ said Cisco, with a wide grin. “It’s a jim kerwollopus, and don’t you go for to think it ain’t.” After the boys had scrubbed themselves at the pool, they shook the morning supply of rations out of the saddlebag and began breakfast. Cisco talked as he ate, but had very little difficulty in making himself under- stood. : bis “Tell me once, Chip,’ said he, “did you have any notions of your own as to the mode of operation of the work at Eureka Springs?” “No,” Merry answered. “About all I can think of to do is to go to Fosson’s and find Rody. He may be able to suggest something.” “Maybe that would help, but I can put you wise to something ‘that'll help more. As I told ye,/Sam Fosson is plum locoed on this here matter of sport. pizen ivy, Fosson is, but his sole redeemin’ feature is his love for the man that can ride a little better, wrestle a little better, and shoot a little better than some un else. He’s a powerful hand with firearms himself, and gloats a heap about it. Now then, son, can you ride and shoot ?” “You bet he can, Cisco!” exclaimed Ballard enthu- siastically. “T know,” went on the cowboy, “but can he do it a mite better. than somebody else? I don’t know what all Fossom is goin’ to spring at them games of his, but — b ie | you can gamble your spurs¢here’ll be ridin’ and shootin’. “What has that got to do with Andrus and those stolen letters, Cisco?” asked Frank, a little impatiently. “Maybe a lot, maybe not anything. There’s where you take a chance. My idee is this: You and your pards lope over to Eureka Springs. When you get there the games is on, see? Waal, Fosson’ll only be too glad to have ye jump into ’em. You go for ’em and make a clean-up— if ye can. If ye succeed, that'll put ye on Fosson’s nigh side a heap, and the old sport’ll be as tickled as a Piute squaw with a string of glass beads. He’ll want to know what he can do for you—that’s what he allers does ask , a feller who distinguishes himself at any of them games Reg’lar , _crossways of old Fosson’s mind. - business, and can’t spare the time. * track myself. _. that’s maybe been rustled.” Johnny Cisco at that water hole. : what he told us we’d be riding for Phoenix this morn- Pda ye. .won iss queer chap. Somehow or other, we've got to help Rody get those letters from Sim Andrus. Andrus stole Uncle Dick’s order and got that batch of hole thanked Cisco for the great help he had been to them, and _ the three lads galloped off toward the fork that led to NEW. TIP at the Springs. ‘Waal,’ says you, replying to Fosson’s question, understand; ‘waal,’ you says, ‘gime them letters that was stole from the p. 0. by Sim Andrus.’ Do that, kid, and I wouldn’t be a mite s’prised if losson ’u'd take that mail matter from Sim and stick it in your hand. l‘osson’s li’ble to do ’most anything that-a-way, purvidin’ ye get on his nigh side. It’s wuth tryin’.” “T’ll remember that, Cisco,” said Frank. ‘I don’t sup- pose I could jump into those games and make much of a showing against fellows who have ridden horses and handled firearms all their lives,” “Don’t you worry none about that. ‘The worst shot I ever seen was a feller who was born, as ye might say, with a forty-four in each hand. And the wust rider [ can recollect was fair cradled on the. back of a cayuse. If ye ain’t got it in you to begin with, you won't never be able to ride or shoot. . But there’ll be other games— foot racin’, like as not, a little catch-as-catch-can wrestlin’, shouldn’t wonder, and maybe one o’ these here tugs-o’- war. There’s no knowin’ what sort of a notion’ll- get Jist sail in, Chip, and do your little best. Maybe you'll accomplish somethin’ really s’prisin’.” “When do these sports begin, Cisco?’ “Maybe they'll be goin’ on to-day, but they'll sure be runnin’ full tilt to-morrer. I shouldn't wonder if +Ios- ‘son would cotton to you right off, same’s a hawk to a June bug. The Merriwells, as exponents of athletic sports; are purty well known around these parts. No, son, I shouldn’t wonder a lot if Fosson made right up to you, he’s that gone on everything that’s labeled ‘sport.’ ” “How do we get to Tinaja Wells?” asked rank. “Keep right on along this trail to’rd Phoenix. Half a mile from Charco Largo a fork leads to the west. Ye foller that fork plumb to the Wells.” “And how do we get from the Wells to Eureka Springs?” e “There’s only one road, Chip. Keep goin’ west. Wisht I could travel along with ye, but I’m away on ranch I'd like mighty well to be at Fosson’s and see what happens, but I can’t side- I’m on the track of som stray cattle Dawn was fluttering in the east as those at the water made their horses ready for the trail, Merry Tinaja Wells, © “Lucky thing for us, Chip,’ said Ballard, “that we met If it mae been for ing, and wasting a lot of valuable time.” “Case of luck,” commented Clancy. “I hope it keeps up. I-rather like the idea of this visit to Sam Fosson’s rancho. ar pr ove interesting.” Maybe we ‘Il run into something there that will 7 Maybe it will prove dicperons as well as interesting, said Merry. “From Cisco’s description, this Fos- The way mail is about as nervy a thing as I ever heard of.” “It’s about what you’d expect’ of Andrus.” “How did he know Rody had the order and was going x after the mail?” queried Ballard. TOP: WEEKLY. od “Somebody tipped him off—somebody who’s keeping pretty close track of*things at the Pactolus. -Of course, Rody may have talked a little about what he was going to do before he left camp for town. That’s one way the news may have leaked out.” The boys came to the fork, turned into it, and gal- loped toward the west. By nine o’clock they had sighted a lone cottonwood tree and a chapar ral of mesquite. “That must be Tinaja Wells,” announced Clancy. “Ari- zona seems to be full:of water holes by that name. lil remember right, there was one not far from Ophir.” This particular Tinaja Wells did not prove to be a very inv pees spot. There was plenty of shade, but the forage was ii ed bare and the banks of the pool had been recently trampled by cattle. Here the boys halted until noon, lounging in the shade of the cottonwood while the horses nibbled at branches of the tree and made the most of the scant browsing they afforded. At noon the riding gear was cinched and buckled to the animals and the lads started on. It was in the heat of the day, and they expected to ride ata leisurely pace and come to E ‘ureka Spr ings about three in the afternoon: The three tail peaks of the Superstition Mountains caine closer and closer. The flat desert broke into undula- tions of sand in wavelike formation, and these sandy’ billows grew in height until progress forward became .a series of ascents and descents. . “We're traveling twice as far up and down as we do ahead,” complained Clancy, “Are these the foothills of the Superstitions?” ” “I suppose so, Clan,” Merry answered. “We ought to be pretty close to [ureka Springs by this time.” “T hoy re they’re real springs and running water,” said Ballard. “I’m getting tired of these stagnant pools. How far did Cisco say it was from the Wells to Fosson’s?” At that moment the lads were at the crest of one of the wavelike ridges. Before Ballard’s question could be answered, a rider surmounted a ridge some distance in advance and Claimed the instant attention of the three youngsters. “Here comes some one W ho can tell us just how close we are to Fosson’s,” remarked Clancy. “I'll bet he’s coming from there.” & The horseman was too far away to be seen very dis- tinctly. As the boys stared at him, he passed swiftly out of sight. He was riding eastward, and had been temporarily hidden by a cleft between two of the ridges. When Frank and his chums had a second view of the lone rider, he was charging over the top of an uplift, at high speed, At that lessened distance there was some-" thing familiar about the fellow. “Strikes me,” said Merry, “that we've met that chap before.” | “That’s what I was thinking, Chip,” returned Bal lard. | “Ts it another one of the cowboys we met at the Phoe-— nix corral?’ & “I thought the horse looked like a pinto.” “Thunder!” cried Claney. “It’s Rody!” > Ss And Rody it proved to be. He was wearing his visual cowboy clothes—garments that had been cast off by some eee range rider and picked up and aeleae by he queer lad. Dick Merriwell had offered Rody ester garments, but he had refused them. His old cowboy outfit was dear - ~ heard the racket and had interfered. NEW . TIP to his heart, and he could not put it away. It was the same Rody, from the big, shabby¥ Stetson to the mam- moth spurs jingling at his heels, who had ridden away from the mine late Saturday afternoon with Dick’s order on the postmaster at Phoenix. And yet, there was a difference. When he came close, Frank and his chums could see that Rody’s face wore a haggard look, as though he had been worrying more than was good for him. “Hello, old chap!” cried Frank, when the pinto had been pulled to a halt. He put out his hand. Rody grasped it and tried to talk. In his excitement, however, the words failed to come. He merely gurgled, whistled, struck himself in the chest—and then gurgled some more. “Take your time, Rody,” said Frank. little. We know you've had hard luck, and that Sim Andrus stole your order for the mail and got Uncle Dick’s letters from the post office. Wemet Johnny Cisco at Charco Largo and he gave us that much information and said you. had gone to Eureka Springs. Did you find Andrus there ?” “Y-y-yes,” answered Rody, his eyes snapping fiercely. “T fuf-fuf-found him all r-r-right. T t2told Fosson about An-an-drus, and Fosson d-d-drove me out of his c-camp. S-s-said he’d wh-wh-whale me if I ev-ev-ever came back again. I was gug-going to the mine to t-t-tell Dick.” * Young Frank’s eyes narrowed, and a resolute look crossed his face. “Turn your pinto, Rody,” said he quietly; “we’re going to Fosson’s, and you’re going back with us.” CHAPTER V. AN ORDER COUNTERMANDED Rody’s face, burned by the sun to a warm mahogany color, took on an expression of fear. The boy had been taught by savage experience to look out for “Number One,” and the desert had made him self-reliant and re- sourceful. He was no coward, but he, hesitate now when Frank told him to turn back. “Fosson is a t-t-tough proposition, Chip,” said he. “He muh-muh-means what he s-says. There’s a g-g-gang at his r-rancho, and they’re all as t-t-tough as he is. If Fos- 9 son gug-gug-got het up a little, he muh-muh-might’ shoot.” “He won’t shoot,” answered Merry calmly, “I’m go- ing to talk with him and see if ‘we can’t get those letters.” “T can st-st-stand it if y-you can,” muttered Rody. So they all rode on together, Rody stuttering out a recital of his harrowing experiences. He. had passed part of the preceding day. and all of the preceding night at Eureka Springs, prowling around and looking for Sim Andrus. At last he had found the fellow and had tried to get him to give up Dick Merriwell’s letters. Andrus had struck at Rody and had tried to do him harm, but the boy was too spry, and kept out of his way. Fosson had Rody told Fosson his story, and Andrus, had made no denial; and then it was that Fosson had ordered Rody to clear out of Eureka Springs or he’d tie him to a pifion and lay the quirt to his bare back. Taking Rody by the collar, Fosson had dragged him to his pinto, thrown him across the pony’s back, and then slapped the little horse with his big som- brero. And this was why Rody caime to be riding east, that afternoon. LOB: WEEKEY, “Cool down a sashes, scene, as it unrolled before the eyes of Frank and his Springs, Roc OTT How many Mexicans are at the I'yank asked. “Fuf-fuf-fifteen or twenty.” ‘Have the sports begun yet?” “They had knife throwing at a tar-tar-target, yester- lay af- afternoon. One gr-greaser won a s-silver-h-han- dled d- d- dirk.” “We're not interested in the knife throwing,’ said Frank. After five more minutes of the up-and-down trail, the Oa aA * vw boys came to ridge crest, from which they could look down into a valley richly carpeted with green. ‘The val- ley was not large, but it was a feast for eyes that, for so many dteary miles, had seen nothing but bare, brown sand. Scattered here and there, throughout the emerald stretch, were pifion trees, umbrella trees, and cotton- woods. A big, sprawling adobe house reared itself in the center of the oasis, and a small watercourse rilled away through a cleft in the hills, and was evidently the overflow from the springs. , All along this watercourse were wagons, their poles supported by the neck yokes. A great many horses were browsing on the bunch grass. Groups of swarthy men, some stout, some thin and wiry, lounged in the shade of the trees, or strolled about, smoking cigarros. All wore bell-crowned hats, short jackets, trousers that spread wide at the bottoms and were laced up the outer seams with tinsel cord, and gaudy Bright colors flashed in the costumes, and the chumsy was most fascinating. It was like a page torn out of some old Mexican romance. , “Well, what do you think of that!” murmured Clancy. Ballard rubbed his eyes. “Looks like a play on the stage!” he exclaimed. “T didn’t think there was anything like this in the whole of*Arizona.” “The gr-gr-greasers have gug-got on their gl-gl-glad rags,” explained Rody. “They d-don’t wear ‘em all th- th the time. They’ re here to w-win pr “prizes.” “Tf they see us,’ ‘said Cl ancy flippantly, “‘we shall be discovered.™ “Then we’re discovered,” returned Ballard. a fellow in a red sash hiking for the house.” A group of men, under one of the trees, had caught sight of the boys. An alarm was sounded, and presently every Mexican was staring at the newcomers. One man, “There’s as Ballard had said, had started at a dogtrot. for the front of the big ranch house. “There’s tr-tr-trouble down there for a-all of us,” said Rody. “Then we'll try and meet it halfway,” lightly. The man who had bucbied to the house had stopped at’ the opén door and called a few words to some one inside. A moment later a gigantic man strode clear of the adobe, shaded his eyes with one hand, and stared toward the trail. Turning, the man picked up a rifle that leaned against the wall of the house, took it in the hollow of © his arm, and*stalked toward the hillside. | “That must be Sam Fosson himself, Chip,” said Bal- lar ¢ with a bit of'a catch in his voice. “He looks war- like, and I'll bet he’s coming to put up the bars.” “Th-that’s Fosson,” declared Rody. said Frank —-+ —D Oe Oh Sor Soa Awe NEW: TIP. / “Fe looks like a pirate,” commented Ballard. Fosson lifted one of his hands. The boys interpreted the gesture as a command to halt, and drew their horses to a standstill. As the big fellow shambled toward them, they had a chance to observe him. He was not dressed in a fancy Mexican costume, but his outfit was pic- turesque, for all that. His broad shoulders were covered: vith a cheap, ill- fitting coat, and he wore buckskin trousers, fringed along the outer seams with Indian beadwork. The bottoms of the trousers were tucked into heavy cavalry boots, and huge silver spurs jingled at his boot heels as he walked. His hat was Mexican—a caballero’s sombrero; it was brown in color and had a rosette at the side and a cord of twisted red and tinsel girdling the crown. The brim of the hat was pulled low down on the forehead and shaded a pair of eyes that were keen and quick—and vicious. Long hair, faded by the sun into a faint red- dish tinge, fell in ropy strings over his bull-like neck and shoulders. A jungle of beard covered his face and reached almost to his cross belt, a belt fluted with the brass tops of cartridges. The gun in his arm was a Rémington. This was Sam Fosson, a man whose evil reputation had spread all over that part of the country. And Fos- son was a man whose sole redeeming feature was: said to be a love of outdoor sports. Sam Fosson was certainly a terrifying figure of a man. He was more than six feet in height, and broad and sinewy. Frank, although somewhat in doubt as to how he was to be received, ‘waited coolly for Fosson to come close enough to talk. Back by the watercourse the Mexicans clustered together and watched from a distance. “T reckon you have come about far enough,” were Fos- son’s first words as he planted himself squarely in the road. “And about the same time I say ‘buenos,’ I say ‘adios’ to you. Turn and hike, or I'll damage that kid on the pinto. He knows mighty well how [ feel toward him.” Fosson’s voice was deep, and rumbled like distant thunder. It was threatening, and the eyes under the broad hat brim darted about and gleamed dangerously. “T want a word with you, if your name is Sam Fos- son,” said Frank. “Go ahead,” was the answer. ee “We're from the Pactolus Mine,” proceeded Frank, “and Sim Andrus has some letters belonging to Dick Merriwell. He stole an order on the postmaster from Rody, here, and got the letters in Phoenix. ' He has no right to keep them.” “Who says Sim Andrus hasn’t a right ?” handed Fosson. “T say it,’ Frank. answered. A chuckle sounded in the hairy throat of Sam Fos- son. Perhaps he admired the courage of a mere boy facing him in that way on his.own ground, “All right, muchacho,”’ said he, “oul can say it. But what good will it do?” “Do you intend to let Sim Andrus keep those letters when he has no right to them?” : “Tf he wants a lot of fool letters, that’s his business, not mine.” “He’s your son-in-law, isn’t he?” “That may be, but Sim’s his own boss,” TOP WEEKLY. 9 “Then you won’t take the letters away from him and give them to me?” Fosson stared at Frank, then laughed outright. “T reckon not,” he answered. ‘“There’s something else, Fosson,” said Frank indig- nantly, “which I guess you haven’t thought of.” “Ya! There’s a lot of things I never thought of, and a lot more I don’t care whether I think about or not.” “Andrus helped Holbrook steal a lot of bullion from the Pactolus mine,” continued Frank; “and he could be arrested for that.” “T don’t reckon he could,” drawled Fosson, “Any- ways, not while he’s here at Eureka Wells. I’m the boss in these parts, and there ain’t no law that can get the best of me. If you’ve got that through your head, muchacho, turn around and remove that kid on the pinto. I ain’t well disposed toward him, I can tell ye.” . “Then you refuse to give up those stolen letters?” “You heard what I said oncet. It ain’t my habit to repeat a thing twicet.” There was an gindernote in the rumbling voice that caused Clancy to catch his breath. He was afraid Chip was daring the old rascal too far. SCome on, Chip,” said Clancy, beginning to wheel his horse. “He won't give us the letters, so what’s the use of haggling?” Frank, discouraged at the result of his pect hee was about to turn his mount. Before he could do so, Fosson put out his big paw and grabbed the bridle by the bit rings. “Pare usted, sor!” he exclaimed. “What was that | heard your pard call you?” “Chip,” answered Frank. “You ain't this Chip Merriwell I hear about as bosse WEEKLY. veranda. It wasn’t much of a veranda, but it served to throw a shade over the front of the house. The rafters forming the roof had been carried over the front wall by a dozen feet, and were supported by rude pole posis. Across the projecting rafters, brush had been laid, and then clay piled on the brush to form a roof. The floor of the veranda was also of clay, beaten hard by the tramping of. many feet. “Julio!” Fosson yelled, in a voice that rolled reverberated through the little valley. A slender, fleet- footed Mexican darted around a corner of the mud wall. “Si, patron.” l‘osson rattled of an order in Spanish, and the mogo leaped to gather the bridle reins of the horses. moment he vanished from sight with the boys’ saddle- stock. “Everything you brought will be taken care of, muchachos,” said Fosson, with a smile which he intended to be most agreeable. “No guest ever stays under my roof and goes away poorer than when he came. Walk inside and make yourselves to home.” Frank led the way through the door and into a big, low-ceiled room. It was comfortably furnished with tables, chairs, and couches covered with Navaho blankets. Across one corner of the room, Mexican fashion, was a narrow fireplace, in which sticks were burned standing upright. Reatas of many kinds hung from pegs in the wall. Claney, who had earned the sobriquet of “Roper,” was drawn instinctively to the reatas, for he had developed considerable skill with a long rope and a sliding noose. There were reatas of plaited rawhide, reatas of horse- hair, of braidetenative grass, and of fine, twisted hemp. All of them, from the looks, had seen service. There were also many quirts swinging from pegs, and half a dozen saddles of various kinds, most of them richly ornamented with silver. Several pairs of spurs were in evidence, and a pile of saddle blankets and bridles lay in one corner, “Hang up your hats and lop down,” swinging his rifle to a pair of antlers over the fireplace and pointing to a row of polished steer horns fixed into the wall,at one side of the room. “I got to go and get sleeping quarters fixed up for you, muchachos. Vm going to take care .of you right, just as a son of Frank and Merriwell and his friends ought to be taken care of. I'll be back in a minute.” \ ; : He opened a door off the rear of the room and passed from sight. The boys had hung up their hats and had dropped into chairs. The moment they were alone they exchanged wondering glances. “T'll be hanged if I can understand that old free- booter!” whispered Clancy. . “Tle’s got us trapped,” growled. Ballard. easy to understand: that.” “T think he’s intending to play fair,” as he said.” “Th-th-that’s right ” stuttered Rody. “When he gtig- gives his word, it’s as gug-good as. his b-bond. He'll t-treat us wh- lett Chip, but we gug-got to do the s-same by him. I’in h-here because you’re Chip Merriwell. He’s read about your duh-duh-dad, and he’s curious to see said Merry, a what you're gug-good for.” In: a" Fosson invited, “T guess it’s Comrie eR > . _ Rody. bullion from the Pactolus mill, Andrus,” - coming to this rancho. NEW “There may be a chance to get those letters out of this,’ whispered Frank. “How?” demanded Clancy. “T’ll have to think about that. said about getting on his ‘nigh side’? then see what comes of it.” “He won’t have any use for you, Chip, if you can't show up strong in some of these events he’s going to pull off.” “Those events,’ and-ready sort. get killed.’” “T gug-guess not,’ said Rody. “Old Fosson is st-st- stuck on himself as a sp-sport. Any fuf-feller that can b-beat him out at any of his fuf-favorité gug-games will st-stand pretty high with him.” Frank was about to make some remark in answer to what Rody said, when the outside door was darkened and a man stepped into the room. The man stopped short in amazement, and Frank and Rody faded to their feet. It was Sim Andrus! “What're you doing here?” ing. “Where are those letters, Andrus?” “What letters ?” “You c-c-can’t puh-play off—you c-can’t Rody’s excitement interfered with his speech. . His feelings seemed to choke him, and he bogged down, red in the face and whistling. “Look here, Andrus,” went on Frank, Remember what Cisco We'll do that, and put in Ballard, “are all of the rough- Some of the contestants are liable to demanded Andrus, scowl- said Frank sharply. 99 “you know what I mean. Rody had an order for the Pactolus mail, and you stole it from him.at Charco Largo.” “Who says so?” answered Andrus. “T s-s-say s-so!” said Rody, breathing hard. “This isn’t the fuftfirst. t-time—this isn’t the fuf-fuf——” And Rody mired again. “You eh the order at the post office in Phoenix and got four letters belonging to my Uncle Dick,” went on Frank. “You can’t deny it. You were seen and recog- nized while you were getting the mail.” “What are you going to do about it?’ asked Andrus, leering. “We'll do something about it. letters now? Did you get them for Holbrook? did you want to get them for, anyway ?”’ : “That’s my business.’ Anacis leveled a finger at “You was told to stay away from here. I wouldn't give two bits for your scalp when Sam finds you're back.” “You can be arrested for helping Holbrook steal that continued Frank. “If you want to save yourself trouble, you'll hand over those letters.” “You talk big,’ sneered Andrus. “What can you do here, I’d like to know? Every greaser on the place is a friend of mine. You've got plenty nerve, I must say, Wait till Sam finds it out!” Andrus evidently had not been around when Fosson personally met the boys and conducted them to the ‘ranch house. Frank had slowly worked his way to the fireplace. Suddenly he reached up, caught the Reming- ton from the dileus and leveled it at Andrus. “Drop that, you fool!’ exclaimed the man, startled. “Stand right where you are,” went on Frank, his face . Have you got ;those What Laks Pe Ve eels II white but his eyes flashing dangerously. “I want those letters, and I’m going to. have them.” “T haven't got the letters,’ answered Andrus. “Search him, Rody!” Whether Rody would have found the four pieces of stolen mail or “not is problematical. He had no chance to search Andrus. The rifle was suddenly snatched out of Frank’s hands, and the resolute lad. found himself looking into the bearded face of Sam Fosson. The owner of the ranch had quietly returned to the room and taken a hand in the dramatic little scene. Strangely enough, Fosson was not angry. His face wore a broad grin as he replaced the rifle on the antlers. “You’re a redhot little hornet, ain’t yu?” he remarked. “Clear out, Sim. These muchachos are guests of mine. Understand that? Yes, even the kid that I sent packing on the pinto. They ain’t to be interfered with. They’re here for the games to-morrow. Now you got the lay of the land, and it’s up to you to walk chalk. I reckon that’ll be about all. Clear out, now, and leave the muchachos alone.” CHAPTER: VII, . THE GAMES BEGIN. look here oncet, muchacho,’ said Fosson to Frank as soon as Andrus had left the house, “you ain’t playing fair, not noways. If you want me to behave, you've got to. If I was to go on a visit to your house and pull a gun on one of your fambly, ‘you wouldn’t con- sider that the right thing, now, would you?” “If one of my family had acted the way Andrus has,” answered Frank, “I wouldn’t blame you for pulling a gun on him.” - “Well, don’t do it again. We’re all going to be nice and sociable and have a good time at the sports. Pros- pects of having a day of outdoor games have made me that mild and happy I can’t get mad at anything. This way, muchachos, and I’ll show you where you're to bunk.” Fosson led the way through the rear door into a big room, where his household took their meals. Throwing open a door on the right of this room, he ushered the boys into a sleeping apartment which contained four cot beds. ‘““Here’s the sala,” said Fosson. “Guests to these here games of mine gen’rally eat and sleep themselves, but I make an exception in your case. My roof and my table are at your command, muchachos, and when young Mer- riwell writes his padre, I want him to say that old Sam Fosson done his duty and treated him white. If you want to scrub, there are basins, water, and towels. Over in the corner is all the gear and war bags taken from your hosses. Bymby supper will be ready, so I advises you to hurry some.” The giant gazed benignantly at the boys for a moment, complacently stroking his long beard, and then turned and left them to themselves. “Old Whiskers is certainly a queer proposition,” mur- mured Ballard. “The magic of the name of Merriwell has done all | this,” said Clancy. “Old Cut and Slash has heard a lot | about Chip’s dad, and it has evidently touched him on the ‘nigh side.’ a dickens of a good thing for us.” 4 ® “Now, 33 Which, allow me to rise and remark, is | EW TIP “T’d have a gug-gooul time to-morrow,” ‘if I only h-h-had them let-let-letters.” “You couldn’t help what happened, Rody,” said Frank ; so cut out the worrying. We may have the letters when we leave here. If I have sand and sagacity enough, it’s a cinch something can be done.” “You'll have to show me, Chip,” hopeless shake of the head. “That’s what I’m going to try to do.” The boys went at their scrubbing with vigor, and soon got the sand out of their hair and the grime off their faces. By the time they were ready for supper, supper was ready for them. Somebody rang a cowbell to an- nounce that the meal was waiting. The noise was fol- sighed Rody, ‘ ee said Ballard, with a lowed by the rumbling tones of Sam Fosson rolling through the house and shaking the windows: “Grub \»? pi-l-l-l-e! There ensued a scrambling of feet, a babble of voices, and a scraping of chairs in the dining room. [rank opened the door and he and his friends stepped into the big apartment. A long table that had covers for at least twenty people was standing in the center of the floor. At the head of the board stood Iosson. On his right Were four empty chairs. From the last empty chair, clear around the table, were Mexicanas and Mexicanos. At the entrance of the boys all talking ceased, and silence fell over the room. “Here, muchachos,” next to me. As the sit at my right. Come a runnin’, to.” The lads placed themselves as directed. Fosson made no attempt to introduce them to others at the table, and _ the youngsters were a little embarrassed by the volley of glances that was flung at them. On Fosson’s left was a Mexican woman, undoubtedly his wife. At the left of the sefiora sat a comely girl of seventeen or eighteen, her hair black as midnight and her eyes large and lustrous. The girl smiled in a friendly way at Merry, and that smile did much to put him at, his ease. Tarther along the table sat Sim Andrus, ill-tem- -pered and scowling. In the chair next to him was Mrs. Andrus. The rest of the family circle consisted of sons and daughters of this rough baron of Eureka Springs an of sons-in-law and daughters-in-law. _ Peons brought in the meal and set the steaming dishes the full length of the table. Every one helped himself -or-herself without formality. Pepper and beans and beef - seemeu to be the components of oe of the dishes, and the food was not only hot from the fire but hot from _ the nature of its ingredients. Ballard nearly strangled to death on his first mouthful, and his antics while endeavor- called Fosson, “you'll také chairs guest of honor, young Merriwell will kids. Sit in and fall ‘Thin, flat cakes called tortillas Were used, now and then, in lieu of spoons and forks.. Folding one of the _ tortillas, a mouthful of food would be scooped up, and then the tortilla was eaten along with the food it held. ~The boys tried the tortilla method, but could not make much of a success of it. Clancy spilled the contents of - one tortilla down his sleeve and afforded more mirth for the diners. - When the meal was over, Fosson conducted the boys to the veranda in front, and they all took chairs there. A smudge kept the nosquitoes away, and Vosson | filled and lighted « a big. black pipe. He had hospitably offered Pela ing to recover his breath set the table in a' delighted roar. WEEKLY; the boys something to smoke, and had made no comments when they had respectfully declined. Ail along the little stream that flowed through the valley from the springs, camp fires twinkled like fire- flies’ Sounds of low voices and laughter swept up on the night wind from the shadows of the trees. Some of the campers were singing, and somewhere elsé a guitar was. being played. All in all, that experience was as weird and strange as any the boys had ever met with. Fosson wanted to be told about Frank’s father. With question after question he drew the boy out, and one experience after another of the elder Merriwell was set forth for the old smuggler’s edification. He gave his absorbed attention, and many times he voiced his admira- tion or clapped his hands in approval. So carried away was Fosson by Frank’s account of some of his father’s exploits that he would probably, have kept the lad up all alah had not Ballard fallen asleep in his chair. “Es muy gracioso!” exclaimed, Fosson. “I reckon he was some remarkable, that dad of yours, muchacho, I'd like mighty well to have him at Eureka Springs for a while, or that brother of his, your Uncle Dick. But I got you, and that’s a whole lot. You want a good sleep against the doings to-morrow, so I'll just say buenas tardes and let you hit your b lankets.” Clancy awoke Ballard with a shake, and the four lads made their way to their sleeping quarters. “Whiskers is a great hand for yarns,’ yawned Clancy. “T guess you're getting on his ‘nigh side’ fast enough, Chip Frank intended to lie awake for a while, that night, and do a little thinking. He hoped to be able to evolve some plan for securing Dick’s head mail through the medium of the games on the next day. [But he was too tired, and fell asleep within a minute or two after his head had touched a pillow, nes it was ne as well. He had an odd fae ahd this dream offered him a suggestion. It seemed to Merry as though he was in the thick of the games, and that he was pitting himself against Fos- son, and winning event after event. Following each contest a prize was’ offered to Merry, which, he refused. At thé climax of the games, Merry had asked and de- manded his uncle’s letters—and Fosson had secured them _ from Andrus, and turned them over. Next tmhorning, while Frank was dressing, this dream remained vividly in his mind. He wondered if he could not apply its suggestion in some way, and racked his brain for the best method. | Breakfast was as hearty a meal, and equally as hot, as supper had been. But Frank ate very sparingly of the highly seasoned food. It was not the right kind of fare for an athlete who was anxious to accomplish diffi- cult things on that day of sport. . When the meal was over, Iosson led the ‘oye out on the veranda, just as he had done the night before. The big fellow was in a jovi ial mood, and his Keen, restless eyes twinkled. “T don’t know, Merriwell,” said he, “speaking personal, - you understand, whether you’re the clear quill or a false alarm. I want to contest a few events with you myself, but I don’t want to take no advantage. Asa starter, I'm going to'match you against Tomo ‘Sebastian for a hun- dred yards of swift footwork, winner to receive a t hun- LIP NEW A dred dollars in gold. If you make a good showing fi against Tomo, I reckon I can take you on for a whirl myself. The foot race will be the first event.” “If Tomo wins, Fosson,” answered Frank, “you can give him the hundred dollars. But it won't do for me to run for money.” “Don’t you want a thing if you win?” demanded [os- son. “Til think it over. what it is.” Fosson blinked his eyes cunningly. “Don’t go for to deceive yourself, muchacho,” said he. “Tf it’s them letters you say Andrus took that you ask for, I can’t get “em for ye.” “Well,” returned Merry, “I’m not running for the hun- dred dollars. “That’s got to be understood.” “But you'll run?” “Sure. What about togs to run in? -haven’t brought any with me.” “Togs? Oiga! What you got on is what you run in. Mebbyso you'll strip to your shirt. What’s good enough for Tomo ought to be good. enugh for you.” “Very well,” said Frank, _Fosson led them away from the ranch house, across the watercourse, by a bridge, and to the western side of the little valley. Here there was a stretch of flat ground, cleared to the hard, brown sand. All the Mexicans and their families were assembled, and the scene was a riot of moving color, and made still more gay by the laughter and talk of the sightseers. It was like a small festival—and a festival, more than any- thing else, is the delight of a Mexican’s heart. “This is our field of sports, muchacho,;’ explained + Fosson. ‘Several times a year I get the Mexicanos to- ~~ gether, and some of them tote away a heap o’ prizes. 7 Whenever I tak@a notion, I send out a call for the games. A hundred yards have beén marked out here on the sand. There’s a line of chalk for the start, and _a piece of string for the finish—all accordin’ to rule. . I’m referee, judge, timekeeper, and general boss. As I said, - first off you'll run the race with Tomo Sebastian. We'll -see how you stack up.” Fosson lifted his voice. “Tomo!” he called. “Si, patron!” came an instant response. _ The crowd could be seen parting right and left .as some one pushed his way through it. That some one, - of course, was Tomo Sebastian, and in a few moments he emerged from the throng and stood before Frank and Fosson. If I want anything, I'll tell you Of course, I Bares \ meee _ CHAPTER VIII. ' THE RACE WITH TOMO. _. Certainly “rough and ready” would properly describe -Fosson’s games, if Frattk and his friends were to judge ‘of them by this preliminary foot race. There were, no special togs, no roped lanes, and none of the other set - conventions that usually surround the sport of sprinting. _.. Fortunately, Frank had left the mine for his special help him in using his feet to the best advantage. - _ Tomo Sebastian proved to be a lad of eighteen or nine teen, and he was dressed with a splendor that suggested -acircus. “He was a Mexican dandy, and strutted like a peacock. LOR ‘mission wearing rubber-soled canvas shoes. These would WEEKLY. 13 The broad brim of his sombrero was decorated with tinkling silver and hawk’s bells; his short jacket and trousers were of brown velvet,' and the trousers were slashed below the knee with crimson silk, caught together with gold cord and buttons. The open front of his jacket revealed the spotlessly white ruffles of a linen shirt. On his feet were beaded moccasins—about the only corices- sion he had made to speed in the forthcoming race with the gringo. Ballard choked a laugh in his throat. Clancy pre- tended to have trouble with a shoelace in order to hide the grin he could not keép from his lips. Merry had better control of his feelings, and his ‘eyes were ranging over the form covered by all that finery. “Get ready, Tomo,” ordered Fosson. With a graceful gesture, Tomo flipped off his jingling sombrero with a deft, backward sweep of his right hand. A friend reached out for the hat. Then off came the brown velvet jacket, which was also given into the friend’s keeping. A sash of crimson silk, which girdled his waist, was drawn up with a tighter knot, and the flar- ing bottoms of the trousers were bound close to the ankles with bits of cord. Tomo was ready. He was well set up, lithe, and sinewy. His legs were long, and looked as though they might develop donsider- able speed. “Qn the whole,” Frank ‘said to himself, “this ' Tomo might make the race a decidedly interesting event.” _ Frank remoyed his hat and stripped to his undershirt. Then he drew up his belt.a’notch and was himself ready. Silence—the silence of expectation—had dropped over the throng. As Frank, startlingly perfect in body and limb, stripped for the contest, murmurs of admiration passed through the ranks of the crowd. “Caballero mio!” whispered a soft voice. — A scarf of yellow silk dropped on the sand at Frank’s side. He looked up, startled, and found the laughing Spanish eyes of the little sefiorita—the one who had smiled at him during supper—fixed roguishly on his face. He smiled in response, picked up the scarf, and hastily bound it about his waist. “Wow!” Ballard whispered to Clancy. “It looks as though Chip was getting on the ‘nigh side’ of Miss Fos- son, as well as Old Whiskers.” “It’s a greaser game, Pink,” returned Clancy, “and Chip was wise to do what he did with that piece of silk. The crowd seem to like it.” A ripple of applause had passed through the throng. “Gee,” went on Ballard, “Tomo, the dude, doesn’t seem to like that play with the yellow silk scarf. Wonder if he is ‘gone’ on the sefiorita?” “Looks like it, Pink. That move of the girl’s has — brought Tomo right up on his toes. If it’s in him, he'll — get over the hundred yards ahead of Chip.” ‘es “Tt isn’t in him,” detlared Ballard. “Now listen to me,-you two muchachos,” spoke up Sam Fosson. “You'll get fixed to start, and I'll walk down the line to the finish and stand there. When I fire my revolver into the air, you'll get away. Sabe?” “Si,” muttered Tomo, through his white teeth. Frank nodded, . a Tomo fixed himself for the start by putting his left foot on the line, throwing his weight on it, crouching and pulling his right foot back. rank, on the other hand, went down on hands and knees, then slowly lifted NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. himself, his rear foot gouging out a little hole in the, sand. The Mexicans must have thought that a queer way to start in a foot race, for some of them laughed. “Why don’t you stand up to it, kid?” queried Fosson. “Tomo’s got all the best of ye, right at the beginning.” “T’ll chance that,’ said Frank, Fosson strode away toward the finish line. He was to be starter as well as sole judge of the contest. He could not take the starter’s correct position behind the runners and yet be at the tape to make sure which breasted it first. In the distance he could be seen to remove a revolver from the breast pocket of his shirt and slowly point it skyward. This method was all new to Merry, and the unusual proceeding rather bothered him. Tomo kept his sharp eyes on the lifted weapon. Merry, on the contrary, was using his ears rather than his eyes. In this, for the moment, Tomo gained an advantage. The instant a whiff of white jumped from the muzzle of the gun, the Mexican runner was off. The report was a fraction of a second traveling the hundred yards, and Frank, as usual, was trying to get away with the report. He had a glimpse of Tomo’s red sash in the lead as he bounded into his stride, leaving the starting line like a shot from a gun. “Go to it, old man!” yelled Clancy. “Remember old Farnham Hall!” shouted Ballard. The Mexicans were wild with aes They screamed, and yelled, and danced up and’ down. Tomo was the favorite of all, with the exception of the little sefiorita. Perhaps her heart was really with Tomo, al- though she had made a champion of the handsome young gringo. All the Mexican encouragement was for Tomo, and if the seforita had any cheering words for Merry, they. were lost in the bedlam of sound that went up in behalf of the favorite. For twenty-five yards Tomo kept the lead. He was showing surprising speed, and using his long legs in a way that Clancy and Ballard had not deemed possible. A chill of fear struck at Ballard’s loyal heart. Had Chip, there in that far-off corner of the desert, really found his match? At the end of the twenty-five yards Merry had come alongside his competitor and was matching him stride for stride. Then, to the wonder of Chip’s chums, Tomo drew into the lead again. Rody was bounding up and down, trying to shout, but only succeeding in emitting gurgles. Chip was his puh- puh-pard, and he did not want to see him beaten by that greaser in the ruffled shirt. The race was merely a pre- liminary event, but the. winning of it meant everything to Chip. If- he lost that hundred-yard dash, then Sam Fosson would certainly lose interest in him; if he won, there was no telling how far Fosson might go in granting his favors. “Tomo can lay down and roll over the course and beat him!” yelled a voice. Ballard turned and saw Sim Andrus. “Wait about two seconds,” he shouted angrily. - Tomo was surely giving a good account of himself, but he was putting every last ounce of power and speed into s efforts. Chip, on the contrary, might be saving him- 1f a little for the last twenty- -five yards, With seventy-five yards of the course covered, Frank, with an ease that was astounding, passed his swarthy rival. At every bound, after that, he left the Mexican behind. In seventy-five feet he gained ten, and tore the tape from its supports so easy a winner that the Mexi- cans were left gasping. In the silence that fell over the throng, the little sefor- ita could be heard laughing and clapping her hands, Then Rody managed to release his pent-up feelings. “Hoe-heo-hooray!’’ he stuttered. Clancy and Ballard added to the racket, and they suc- ceeded ‘in stirring up quite a respectable jubilation. Tomo Sebastian, badly spent with his tremendous ef- forts, had tottered to the sand just across the finish line. He lay there, breathing hard, his face convulsed and his overstrained limbs quivering. His friends gathered around and gave him their attention. Merry, breathing a little quicker than usual, but cool and thoroughly himself, was taking his coat and hat from his chums and getting into them. He walked over to Tomo as the latter’s friends helped him to his feet. ; “You're a runner, all right, Tomo,’ ”’ said Frank, putting out his hand. “Gringo chingado!” snarled Tomo, and whirled away from Frank in a fury. “Tomo!” roared the voice of Fosson. The voice spoke sharply in Spanish, and the beaten Mexican turned and grudgingly took Merriwell’s hand. ‘That’s a heap bet- ter,” went on Fosson. He turned to Frank and put out — his own hand, “Muchacho, you sure have fooled me a heap., I put up a job on ye, for this Tomo is the best sprinter for his years in northern Mexico. He only happens to be here, and wasn’t plannin’ to race until 1 told him about you. Then he allowed he might jump in and show the Merriwell tribe a trick or two. And I'll be dad blamed if you didn’t clean up on him!” The deep, resonant voice of Sam Iypsson was lost. in wonder. It was plain to Frank and his chums that he had received a tremendous surprise. When his amaze- ment vanished, he showed/his delight more and more, and clapped Merry on the back, and shook hands with him, and did other things that evidenced his growing liking and friendship. . “And ye won’t take the hundred?” he asked. “No,” said Frank. “Give it to Tomo. If you want — to give me anything, give me those letters.’ : Fosson’s face clouded. foikee “You're askin’ something I can’t do, muchacho,’ he | answered, “much as I'd like to. !’m goin’ to take you on for some sports bumby. Just for now, though, there’ll be a little ropin’ contest. You stand by ‘and watch,” an “Roping, eh?” said Clancy, pricking up his ears. “Here is where I'll try to shine.” “Can you handle a reata, kid?” queried Fosson. “Maybe not good enough. to pull down a prize,” said Claney, “but I'd like to get into the game just for the fun of the thing.” “Bring on the reata throwers!” boomed Fosson. ‘The gayly clad vaqueros, half a dozen of them, stepped. forward, coiled ropes in hand. ‘Go to my house, muchacho,” said Fosson, “and take any rope you can find. Hurry back, because this rope throwin’ is only a side issue, and we want to get it over with for somethin’ more worth while.” Clancy turned and raced Away in the direction of the | ranch house. : ’ NEW TIP CHAPTER IX. THUNDERBOLT. The roping proved to be rather a tame affair. The casting was not done at running horses or cattle, much to the disgust of the vaqueros. [osson decreed that a hu- man target should be used for the rope throwing, and the test was divided into three parts, and the points made by each contestant were jotted down and totaled at, the finish of the event. First, seven men were told to walk toward the seven rope throwers, with arms extended outward from the shoulders. “Left leg and right arm!” bawled Fosson. The task, then, was to ensnare in the wide loop the membe?ts of the body indicated.’ It was a difficult task, and two of the vaqueros failed at the first attempt. Luck was with the red-headed Clancy, for he was one of those who succeeded. “But it was a happenchance,” he after- ward confided to Merry. “I almost dropped when I found I’d caught that greaser by the leg and the right arm.” _ Next, the seven human targets were sent past the con- testants atarun. ‘Both legs!” roared Fosson. This took a fine eye, good judgment, and skilled hand. In running, there is a fraction of a second when a man’s two feet are clear of the ground. During that eye wink of time, the ropes had to be cast and the nooses trailed under the running feet with care. Two who had conie safely out of the first test failed in this, but Clancy’s good luck continued. He tightened _his noose around both flying feet of his particular target. The third and last test was perhaps the most difficult of all. As in the first test, the targets were to walk toward the rope throwers with both arms extended. Fos- son shouted loudly: “Right arm, left arm, half hitch around both arms and then around the neck!” Clancy had selected the reata of braided rawhide. It -was as flexible.as so much silk, and yet had sufficient body to answer at the noose end to the slightest twitch of the throwing hand. _ The red-headed chap had not the least notion that he could make good in the last test, but his blood was up, and he went after his man with all his skill. | - With a masterly throw he got the loop over the right arm; then, with a sidewise twitch of the hand gripping the, rope, he flirted the noose over the left arm. A jerk pulled the two arms together. A twist of the wrist fol- lowe.l and sent a looping half hitch along the full length of the braided rawhide. The hitch settled around the two.arms and was drawn taut. Another hitch traveled from the thrower’s hand, this time with the reata held high. At the psychological moment the reata was dropped, and the second half hitch girdled the target’s -. throat! Rody had yearned ‘to take part in the. rope throwing but he knew he was at Eureka Springs against the wishes of Fosson and only because of I osson’s regard for Chip _ Merriwell, so his better judgment told him to keep out of the sports. He had watched Clancy’s work wonder- ingly, and when the red-headed fellow finished with the only perfect score, Rody ran over to’ him and took him in his. arms. “You're a w-w-wonder!” stuttered Rody. “I'll be dur- TOP friends tried to pull him back, buy he broke a WEEKLY. 15 dur-darned if I h-had any notion y-you could throw a r-r-rope. “Luck, Rody!” Claney whispered in the other's “I couldn't do it again on a bet.” Merry and Ballard shook.Clancy warmly by the hand. “For a chap who hasn't thrown a rope in’ months,” said Merry, “you certainly are all to the mustard, Clan.” “I never was more surprised in my life, Roper !” mur- mured Ballard. “How did you ever do it?’ “Just shut my eyes and let the noose go,” Clancy. “Luck did the rest.” osson stepped up at that moment, pieces in his hand. “Fifty pesos go to the best man in the rope throwin’, he announced, reaching out to give Clancy the gold. The red-headed chap backed away. “Can't take it, Fosson,” said he. “No? Well, you’re a queer passel of muchachos, I must say. Can ye keep that rawhide reata w ithout dam- agin’ yer conscience?” “Sure!” cried Clancy. ; ‘Then it’s yours. Now,’ proceeded Fosson, ‘the next event to be pulled off has sure got some ginger tangled up in it. I got a claybank caballo that no one but me has ever been able to ride. Thunderbolt knows when I’m on his back, and he acts plumb white; but let a stranger Car. explained jingling some gold © mount’ him, and he’s all lightning, earthquake, and cyclone. A greaser tried to steal Thunderbolt, last fall, and the brute throwed him and pounded him into the sand with his feet. Another chap—a broncho buster from the Star X—tiied to ride the animal last Hime we had sports here, and he came out of the tussle with a broken leg. I got a Chihuahua saddle, with silver tr wintin’s and Angora suaderos for the hombre that can stay on Thunderbolt’s back for five minutes.” Fosson turned to face the house, and made a trumpet of his hands. . “Julio!” he roared. “Si, patron!” answered a faint voice from somewhere among the trees. ‘Bring the claybank !” Awe and fear were reflected in the faces of the Mexi- cans. derbolt’s reputation for evil was a matter of common — report. And yet, when the big claybank stallion was led across the bridge and into the thick of the crowd, he looked peaceable enough. tg Fosson went to him, slapped him roughly across the nose and vaulted into the saddle. The horse still re-~ mained quiet and peaceable. T he ranchero trotted him around i in a circle, then drew rein and dismounted. “It’s all in knowin’ how,” said he. ,“I reckon I’m the — only man that ever rode the claybank, and the only one | : that ever will ride him. He’s impossible for every one else... If anybody’s got the nerve to try for that Chihua- hua saddle, though, here’s the chance.” “I try for the saddle, sefior.” ~ It was Tomo Sebastian. Tomo must have felt that it was necessary to retrieve himself in some way, ‘after — losing to Merriwell in the hundred- -yard dash, and ri Thunderbolt looked like an opportunity. Some of Tomo away f them. } “You wouldn’t last two minutes, Tomo,” said, Fos “The claybank would make mincemeat of ye.’ It was plain to Frank and his friends that Thun- — f NEW “I try for the saddle,” insisted Tomo. “All right,” assented Fosson, shrugging his shoulders; “it's your own lookout.” Merry had hada good deal of experience with ranch- bred horses. So far “as his experience went, he had believed that a wild “outlaw,” once mastered, could be ridden by any fair horseman. Never before had he heard of a cayuse which was as quiet as a lamb under one rider, and a man-killing demon under another. He thought Tomo would have an easy time of it; and the young Mexican must have thought the same thing, for a few moments, when Thunderbolt allowed him to mount without opposition. _ Then, suddenly, the dull eyes,of the brute glowed like coals of fire, and his ears took an‘evil slant. “Beware, Tomo!’’ shouted the crowd fearfully, pushing back to give horse and rider plenty of room. “Look out! Look out!” Thunderbolt arose straight in the air in a tremendously high jump. He came down, stiff legged, almost in the very tracks where his hoofs had been planted before. The jar flung Tomo a little to one side in the saddle. Then, in a twinkling, the big claybank reared and fell over backward, hoping, no doubt, to crush his rider. - But for the quickness of Sam Fosson, Tomo would have been maimed or killed. The ranchero, with a swift- ness remarkable in one of his huge build, darted forward® and jerked Tomo from’ under the falling horse. The swarthy cheeks of the Mexican lad were pallid as he got unsteadily to his feet. “Try it again, Tomo?” Fosson put the question jeeringly, and Tomo shook his head and fell back among the crowd. As Thunderbolt gathered his feet under him and struggied up, Merriwell flung off hat and coat and started forward. “Chip!” cried Rody. “C-c-come bub-back here!” “Leave that claybank devil alone, Chip!” yelled Clancy. “Cut it out!” clamored Ballard frantically. : The little senorita, who was observing all that took place, clapped her hands and cried: “Bravo! Bravo, Americano mio!” \ Fosson folded his arms and watched Merriwell with deepest interest. Scarcely: was Thunderbolt on his feet before Frank was in the saddle. Probably the horse was unaware that there had been a change of riders. The claybank, squealing wrathfully, reached around to bite. A quirt had been hanging from the saddle horn. Frank jerked it loose,and pounded the horse across the nose. This discouraged the biting maneuver, and Thun- derbolt went straight up in the air and came down in another of his ‘“‘bedpost’’ bucks. Although the stirrups were long for Frank, he made shift to thrust his feet through the loops of the stirrup leathers. He held his seat in the saddle firmly and grace- fully in spite of the terrific jolting. “Beware; beware!” shouted the Mexicans. ; The alarm was not necessary. Frank knew that the claybank was about to execute another back somersault. _ As the brute came tottering to earth on his back, Frank jumped aside and stood erect while the baffled man-killer was struggling to his gfeet. ~ When Thunderbolt was up again, more inthe saddle. Frank was once Te The double fall, without crushing victim, seemed to have shaken the stallion’s courage. TIP.-TOP WEEKLY: He stood panting, and perhaps trying to think up some new deviltry. Frank slashed him with the quirt. With heart on fire with rage, the horse rushed forward at wild speed and then stopped dead in his tracks., It was his hope to fling Merry over his head, and then to pound him into the sand with his forward hoofs and knees. \ Merry kept his seat. Again Thunderbolt tried the trick, and again was he baffled. He next plunged forward and followed this maneuver with a sudden plunge at right angles ; then he roached his back like an angry goat and seesawed up and down. All these wicked capers failing, he broke into a furious run. Down the length of the valley he raced, whirled to the left, cleared the watercourse at one prodigious leap, and started for the trail. Those on the athletic field saw horse and rider top the ridge and disappear, Phunder- bolt going like the wind and Frank quirting him cruelly at every jump. CHAPTER X. MERRIWELL’S PROPOSITION. While excited yells broke from the Mexicans, and the taming of Thunderbolt went on under Frank’s masterly horsemanship, Sam Fosson preserved a pensive silence. At the last, when the claybank leaped the watercourse and. plunged over the ridge, the old ranchero removed his rosetted sombrero and ran a dazed hand through his long, ropy hair. “Well, I'll be dad blamed!’ he muttered. “I’ve hunted for three years for somebody that could ride that pesky claybank besides me, and now here a kid does the trick. Merriwell has stuck to Thunderbolt like he was glued to the saddle! The hoss couldn’t budge him! Is there anything this Merriwell can’t do?” In half an hour Frank came back. The claybank’s sides were lathered and his mouth flecked with foam. But he was conquered, and showed himself a very meek and tractable “‘man-killer” as he bore Frank back into the thick of the cheering crowd. Frank tossed the reins over the claybank’s head and slipped from the saddle. “That’s.about as slick a bit of ridin’ as I ever see!” exclaimed Sam Fosson. “Muchacho, you done your- self proud. Where'd you learn to ride?” “T’ve tried my hand at riding ever since I can remem- ber,” answered Frank, with a laugh. “It’s good sport.” “Right you are—one of the finest sports in the cata- logue. You've beat Tomo Sebastian at foot racin’ and hoss breakin’, and you've matched me even at a game I pride myself on doin’ as well as the best. You’ve matched me, I say, and I’ve got only one more trick up’ my sleeve. If you’can equal me at that, I’m ready to take you to my arms as a blood brather. Say, son, I wisht you'd stay at Eureka Springs. I’d make it an ob- ject. Fifty a month and found, eh? No? Sixty—sev- enty-five a month? Won’t consider it?’ I got a pile of — cattle in the hills, and—and—well, other ways of makin’ money. Bumby, if you stay with me, I'll give you a chance to take an interest in the ranch?” “T’m much obliged to you, Fosson,” said Frank, “but I’m only in this part of Arizona for a short time.” A great disappointment showed in the bearded face of Sam Fosson. : “Oh, well,” observed Fosson, “I reckon you’ve heard a NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. wild yarns about me and are a little leery. Dunno as | blame you much. But you'll let me give you the saddle?” “IT don’t want the saddle, Fosson, but there’s something else you can give me—if you want to.” The old ranchero scowled darkly. “Shut up about that, muchacho!l said he, with a touch of temper. “I tell ye I can’t, so what’s the use of pes- eterin’f Faintly in the distance the cowbell could be heard clanging furiously. “Games is over till after. dinner, laconically. With the little seforita, Fosson walked back toward the bridge. He seemed in a temper because his prepos- terous offer to Frank had been refused. “Old Whiskers is getting his mad up, Chip,” remarked Clancy, as the chums strolled back toward the ranch house together. “He didn’t like it because you turned down that offer of seventy-five a month and found.” “And he as much as offered to give you a share in his smuggling operations,” said Ballard. “I guess ‘we'd better say good-by to Eureka Springs and move along toward the mine. ‘I don’t like the way things are shap- ing around here.” “I haven't finished my try to get those letters yet,” muttered Frank. “You’ve tried hard enough,” see what more you can do.” “There’s something else Fosson is going to spring. Pos- sibly that will give me my chance.” ‘“Mum-maybe the let-let-letters have been passed along to—to Holbrook,” suggested Rody. “Mum-maybe you ‘e-c-couldn’t gug-get them from Fosson if he w-w-wanted to I-let you have ’em.” “Possibly there’s something in that,” said Merry, I’m going to make sure before we leave here.” As soon as they reached the house the boys went to their room and made ready for dinner. The little sefior- ita turned loose a battery of smiles and languishing glances -on Frank all through the meal, with the result that the youngster was rendered highly uncomfortable. The sefiorita was Mexican, clear to the tips of her small fingers. Merry remembered that she had clapped her hands and called “Bravo!” when he was about to risk his neck on Thunderbolt. The girl’s actions, at that time, had made a disagreeable impression on Frank. Merry was glad when the meal was over, and he and his chums repaired with Fosson to the veranda for chat. “How are you with a revolver, muchacho?” inquired Fosson. “Can you shoot as well as you can ride—and run?” - “T don’t know about that,” Frank answered. ri had a revolver in my hands for quite a while.” A pride myself on bein’ a dead shot, son, The next trick is fo be a trick of the trigger. Up’where you come from, I opine you don’t learn trigger work in the schools.” “Sure we do,’ put. in Clancy solemnly. “Trigger- nometry is one of our studies.” allard chuckled, and Frank grinned. — ever, seemed to get past Fosson. _ “This trick I’m going to do,” “takes ranid work and a quick eye.’ “Hey, Julio!” The mozo popped around the corner of the house. © 3) announced Fosson returned Clancy. ‘I don’t “but “JT haven’t The joke, how- went on the rancher, He lifted his voice. \porch. “Si, patron!” “Bring twelve of them big white poker chips, Julio.” The servant brought the chips. Each was about the size of a silver dollar. Fosson piled them in an empty chair. ‘My new model officer’s revolver, Julio son’s next order. Again Julio ducked into the house, presently to re- appear with a shining firearm, which he placed in his mas- ter’s hand, along with a box of cartridges. Opening the cartridge box, Fosson began loading the weapon. “You know what to do with six of thém chips, Julo, went on Fosson, when the revolver was loaded and ready. “Si, patron!” Julio picked up six of the chips and stepped from the\ He walked straight away from the house for fifteen or twenty feet and then stood, carefully shuffling the white discs through his fingers. “Here’s the trick, muchacho,’ said Fosson, and de- scended from the veranda., “All ready, Julio!’ he called. With all the chips in his right hand, the mozo lowered’ the hand earthward and waited for his master to speak again. “Now!” rumbled Fosson. Julio’s hand shot upward, and all six of the white chips went straight up into the air for fifty feet. The ree barked repeatedly under the pressure of Fosson’s finger. The reports came so quickly that they almost merged into one. The white disks, hanging against the blue, sunlit sky, were snapped out one by one. Only two shots missed— only two of the chips dropped back upon the sand. Ballard muttered an exclamation of wonder. Clancy drew a quick, labored breath. Rody, disliking Fosson heartily as he did, could neverthless not refrain from giving him a look of admiration. “Bravo!” exclaimed Merry. “That’s what you call real shooting, Fosson!” “Broke four out o’ six!” boasted Fosson. “My best record, up to now, has been three out o’ SIX. | Say, mucha-_ cho, can you beat it?” Merry fell silent. At last he put out his hand. “Let me see that revolver, Fosson,’’ said he. The ranchero handed the gun to him. Frank examined it carefully. It was the same style of gun which he had used, several months before, in a camp on Wind River. At that time he had done some excellent targetwork-with the weapon. was Fos- be ‘It would take sofne pretty good shooting to beat that va performance of yours,’ Frank observed. “Can you do it—for a thousand dollars in gold?” queried Fosson. His eyes were glimmering as he fixed them on the lad. Some purpose burned in their depths. What was it?” “{ don’t want the thousand dollars,” returned Frank. “You must be purty well heeled,” remarked Fosson dryly. i 5 “l’m not saying anything about that. Instead of a thousand dollars, will you give me those letters Sim An- _drus got from the post office ?” Fosson sank back in his chair, combing his long beard with his fingers ‘and studying the eager: face of the boy. “This is a devil of a hullaballoo about a few pieces. of mail matter,” he growled. “You been harpin’ on that till it makes me plumb mad. Tell .you what I'll do, ~ ee 18 NEW muchacho. You beat that shot o’ mine, first clatter out _ o’-the-box,.and I will give ye them pesky letters!” Frank’s face brightened, and all the boys sat up and began to take a great interest in the forthcoming trial of their chum’s marksmanship. “Tt’s a bargain!” Merry exclaimed; obliged to you for——” “Wait a. minute,”’, snapped Fosson. dition. Maybe ye'll back out when you hear Viso.’ A chill struck down the mounting spirits of the’ four lads. A foreboding of some sort of trickery was felt by all of them. “What's the condition?” asked Frank. “Why, this here: If you break as many, or more, chips than I did, I'll make Sim give up them letters. If you don’t, then you’re to stay here at Eureka Springs and work for me at seventy- -five a month and found. How about it, muchacho?” and the hairy old ruffian sat back in his chair with a grim. laugh. From. somewhere in the house the laugh was echoed in a silvery peal. The sefiorita, it seemed, was some- where within hearing. Merry’s face had paled a little, but his eyes were resolute. “It's a go,” said he quietly. Dismay shone in the faces of his chums. Very calmly Merry reached for the cartridge box and began reloading the six-shooter. “and I’m much “There’s a con- the pro- CHAPTER XI, FANCY SHOOTING. Clancy put out a trembling hand and laid it on Frank’s geval hs _ “Here’s where I make a kick, Chip,” said he. “If I've got anything to say about it, you’re not going to shoot on any such terms.” “That’s right,” straight in the eye, “‘it’s Chip’s father say to any such arrangement ? ‘hold him to it, Fosson,”’ \ ‘“Ffere at Eureka Springs I’m.boss,” rumbled Fosson. “T doas I please. But, of course, Chip Merriwell doesn’t have to accept them terms. If he don’t want the letters, he don’t have to try to get em. It would be a one-sided seconded Ballard, looking Fosson too big a risk. \hat would You couldn’t ’ bargain if it didn’t have a twist im it that favored me.. I want that muchacho. around the place. He's about the only youngster I ever see that I did want.’ Merry laughed and tipped his friends a quiet wink: ‘He had the revolver loaded and was ready to begin the bit of shooting that might Ea so much to him, “You're a spott, son,’ went on Fosson, Frank. “T can see it stickin’ out all over ye. a-goin’ to let ’em skeer you?” ; “No,” Frank answered, “I’m going to shoot tt those letters. You can get hold them, can’t you? “Haven't I said so? My word’s as good as my note— and my note’ll pass at the bank for five figgers.” “Another thing,” Merry went on. “I’m going to let _ Julio toss the chips for me. He has got to give mea fair toss, Fosson. If he doesn’t throw them edge up and _ broad ans, to the gun, and if he doesn’t throw them as high as he did for you, I’ll not shoot, but will wait till the PND are throws as they ought to be.” : addressing You ain’t TOP WEEK EY’, Nothing’ll _ count “Julio is going to play square. Ready?” against you till the six-shooter begins to bark. TM eRe. The mozo took $ix more chips and walked away from the veranda. Frank stepped to the ground and panies a moment. Tremors were chasing each other up and down the spines of the other three lads. Was,Chip crazy to try : such a feat of fancy shooting on such conditions? Clancy and Ballard knew that he was a crack shot with a re- volver when it came to plain target work. At Wand River he had planted six bullets in the bull’s-eye and knocked out a pin that nad been stuck in the very center of the black spot. But that sort of work was different from this. bs A faint, fitful breeze was blowing. Merry fixed his eyes on the tops of the trees. W hen the leaves ceased to quiver he dropped his eyes quickly to Julio. “Now!” said he. The chips sailed upward. But it was a short throw, and none of the white disks went more than thirty feet into the air. Frank did not lift the revolver. Fosson spoke angrily to Julio in Spanish. The moso — cringed under the biting words and began gathering up : the scattered chips from the sand. Rody, Clancy, a Ballard Clustered at the edge of the: veranda. Just beyond the side of the house the Mexi- cans had begun to gather. The sefiorita, her face wreathed in smiles and her eyes dancing, had taken a _ past of vantage, from which she could see clearly. ba If Merry was at all excited, he did not show it in any way. He smiled a little at the white, set faces of his chums, and he looked toward the sefiorita and shook the ends of the yellow sash which still girdled his waist. — The girl clapped her hands and nodded. ~ ie Once more Merry lifted his eyes to the treetops. At- the right moment he gave Julio the word. Up went the little specks of white in a splendid Hiroe. High overhead they seemed to hang against the sky as. though suspended by invisible wires. Merry flung up the revolver. There was no careful aiming, but the shooting began the moment the muzzle of the weapon was jerked skyward. With the swiftness of magic the white disks faded to powder under the quick fusillade. They melted away, one by one, under the very eyes of the watchers. “By thunder, * roared Fosson, “he’s come up with me! He’s Even as the words were on Fosson’s lips Frank broke | the fifth, and then the sixth, disk. Not one was left to fall back, but each of the half dozen had been, br oken to fragments’ and scattered in powder. Astonishment held Sam Fosson speechless, Clancy, Ballard, and Rody were also robbed of the power to ex- press themselves. They were literally saad aes, at. the wonderful feat. The Mexicans at the corner of the house were vce to break into “Bravos!” But-in this the sefiorita had no — part. She had tossed her head angrily and hastened | away. gid: “ho,” whispered Fosson hoarsely, when he was” finally able to speak, “you busted every chip!” “Good old Merry!” shouted Clancy, jumping. for hi chum. “How did you ever do ye ‘When did you get that trick down so pat: P NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. “Jupiter,” murmured Ballard, “but that was a sur- prise!’ “Puh- -puh- pard, ” stuttered Rody, glistening, “you’re a w-w-wizard! You’re a w-w-w But Rody’s ‘clamorous emotions would not allow him to speak further. Frank turned away from his chums and faced. Fosson. “Tt’s up to you, Fosson,” said he. “Now show us whether your word is as good as your bond!” “Wait here,” said Fosson, and turned 8 strode into the house. Merry went up on the veranda and agieiicl into a chair. His chums followed him, drawing their own chairs close. “Tl bet Dick will be tickled to death when about this,” said Clancy happily. “Old man,” averred Ballard, ‘ ever did.’ e —“Chip’s a w-w-wizard,” “Took here, fellows,” Merry answered, “that trick isn’t so hard as it seemed. It’s almost the same as shoot- ing at a fixed mark. Each one of those chips was as big as a silver dollar. What sort of a bull’s-eye would that be for a target?” “But see what you had to lose if you failed!” mut- tered Ballard. “I didn’t think it was possible for me to fail to break four of the six disks,’ Merry went on. “I was safe after I did that, you know. As for breaking the whole six, I didn’t dream I could do it. After I got started, though, they seemed to come easy.’ "No ow, if Fosson carries out his part of the agreement,” remarked Clancy nervously, “we'll be all right.” ~ “You can b-b-bank on Fosson duh-duh-doing as he says,” put in Rody. The minutes passed and brought no sight 6f the old ranchero, At least half an hour went “by before he emerged from the interior of the house. But he came. His hairy face was flaming with anger. “T had to purty nigh wring Sim’s neck to get them letters,” said he, “but my long suit is to carry out my agreements. I’d have done this thing if +I broke up the fambly. Here’s what ye wafit, muchacho.” With that he handed four letters to Merry. Frank examined the envelopes hastily. He was glad to see that they had not been tampered with. “Holbrook is expected along this afternoon,’ went on Fosson, “and Sim was savin’ them for him. That’s why, I reckon, they haven’t been opened. and read. If you get away from the Springs ahead of trouble, you muchachos will have to hustle.” “Who'll make us trouble, Fosson?” Clancy asked. “Sim. He’s some mad, I’m tellin’ you, and he’s gone to get Tomo and stir up ‘the greasers. You muchachos _had better hit the breeze as soon as possible. Julio has got your caballos ready, and all your riding gear and plunder is on the mounts.” .. For the first time Merry noticed that there was a ii good deal of running about:in the camp’ along the water- course. Horses were being put under saddle, and spurs were being buckled to the heels of riders, ~ “Come through the house, muchachos,” said Fosson, striding through the open door, “and come quick. Pronto is the word.” f .* his eyes wide and 9 he hears Gt’s the biggest thing you Rody insisted. CHAPTER XII. OFF FOR THE: MINE. Fosson, with the boys at his heels, hurried through the house and out at the rear door. A path ran from the kitchen to the horse corral. Julio was holding all four of the mounts and waiting for their riders to come and claim them. Thunderbolt was also under saddle, and stood by the corral fence with lines trailing from the bits. A gun scabbard, with the butt of a Remington showing, was under the left saddle flap “Are you going with us, Fosson?” asked Merry, ‘as he vaulted to the back of his horse. “Just fur enough to see ye started safe,” was the re- sponse. “I’m goin’ to find out, by thunder, whether me or Sim is bossin’ this play.” Calling to the boys to follow him, Fosson clapped spurs to the claybank and galloped around the side of the house. Half a‘dozen Mexicans had mounted and were bunched together under the trees along the watercourse. Andrus was among them, and Tomo. They seemed to be waiting. Fosson drew quick rein. “Ride on to the trail, muchachos,’ he ordered. “Tl bring up the rear. I don’t know, yet, just how far them fools intend to go.” There was danger, Merriwell and his chums knew that. But Sam Fosson was standing by them loyally, and he was a host in himself. The lads streaked away in the direction of the ridge slope. Andrus raised his hand and shouted something. Instantly. the men with him rattled their spurs and broke into pursuit. Sam Fosson, with a hair-raising yell, snatched the Remington from its scabbard. Whirling the claybank to the right-about, he held the rifle ready, and stood like a rock, opposing the advance. What he roared at the mounted Mexicans, Merry and his friends could not understand. He used the Spanish language. But every word, it was evident, carried a sting and a threat. The pursuers halted. In vain Andrus sought to urge then on. They drew back, and one by one they begun to dismount. Tomo was the last to forsake Andrus. As for Andrus himself, he dared not face his father-in-law alone. “There was a point beyond which it was not well to try the desperate ranchero. With a loud, jeering laugh, Fosson whirled Thunder? bolt on his hind toes and rode at speed after the boys. He had to travel for two miles before he overhauled them. When they looked back and saw him coming, , they halted their horses and waited. “Them greasers didn’t dare to ride over me and Thun- der bolt and old Sairy Ann,” cried Fosson, slapping affec- tionately the butt of the Remington. “There’d have been doings, I can tell ye, if they had.” Slowly he bent and pushed the rifle into its scabbard. Then he straightened his giant form in the saddle. “Muchachos,’ he asked, “are you plumb satisfied old Sam Fosson did the square thing by you?” “You been a mighty good friend of ours, Fosson,” Merry answered, “Maybe I ain’t as straight as I hic be, when it comes to import duties and the free and unrestricted exchange of commodities between neighborin’ nations. Them’s subjects upon which a good many better minds than mine. Ng ! NEW. TIP TOP WEEKLY. disagree. But I try to play fair—when I have to. Mer- _riwell, you write your dad about this. Tell him the Mer- _riwells have got an admirer in this corner of the arid wastes, and that I’ve tried to do the right thing by Chip. Will you do that?” “Sure I will, Fosson,” said Frank heartily. “T don’t countenance what Sim Andrus did to your Pactolus mail,’ continued Fosson, “but I-do hate a fambly row. I staved it off as long as 1 could. When you smashed them six poker chips, son, | knowed I was up against it. to dance ev’ry set. I reckon Sim’ll come around and be good, but*if he don’t stop his thievin’; and if he don’t quit associatin’ with tinhorns like Holbrook and Robinson, I’m going to take my girl away from him, head him for Nowhere, and tell him to keep goin’. I reckon that’s all. Merriwell, you’ve afforded me some sport. I'd like, mucho fino, if you’d tell your Uncle Dick _and this Brad Buckhart to drop in on me., Give ’em my _ compliments, muchacho, and gi’me your hand.” Merry rode close to Fosson and shook hands with him. All the others, even to Rody, did likewise. “Adios, my lads,” called the big fellow. ; With a friendly wave of the big hat with its red rosette, he turned the claybank and vanished over the ridge to the west. “He’s all right, that Fosson!” declared Ballard. “He has acted wh-wh-whiter than I th-thought he w-w-would,”’ stuttered Rody. “T shouldn’t mind coming back to Eureka Springs for a visit,” said Clancy, ‘after Andrus is pointed for No- where and told to keep going.” | “We've got the letters,” added Merry, “and we’ve found that Sam Fosson isn’t quite so black as he has been painted. Now for the mine, fellows!” The sur was low, its heat had sensibly diminished, and the four horses kicked up the dust in the direction of Tinaja Wells, . ew THE END. “Frank Merriwell, Junior’s, Red Bowman; or, Dick _. Merriwell’s Triumph,” will be found in the next issue of this weekly, No. 36, out April 5th, and in it you will find that there is still much for Chip and his chums to do- in the way of helping Dick Merriwell get the Pactolus _ Mine in proper running order. It is found that the let- _ ters that Chip recovered by his athletic prowess and by ' the aid of Sam Fosson have been tampered with. This makes possible a‘very ugly situation, and one that Chip attempts to straighten out with his usual level-headed- - ness and courage. The character of Chappo, an Apache _ Indian, the “Red Bowman,” will prove a very interesting — one to you, ee ——————— +044 HOW TO TAME A HORSE. ; To tame a horse, rub a little oil of cumin upon your hand, and approach the horse in the field on the wind- ward side, so that he can smell the cumin. The horse will let you up to him without any trouble. Immedi- ately rub on his nose with your hand a little of the oil. You can then lead him anywhere. Give him a little horse castor—a wart which grows on horses’ legs, and which should be grated fine—on a piece of loaf sugar. Put eight drops of oil of rhodium into a lady’s silver Allers, when I open a ball, I make it a p’int , thimble. Take the thimble between the thumb and finger, stopping the mouth of the thimble to prevent the oil running out while you open the horse’s mouth; then tip the thimble over upon his tongue. He will follow you like a pet dog. He is now your pupil and your friend. You can teach him anything, only be kind and gentle to him. 4. a> o—>+or+> Aladdin’s Lamp in 1913. By FRITZ KROG. CHARTER 2h THE CONTRACT. “Mr. Carr,” said the big man, as he, rocked to and fro in his office chair, “I am going to be very frank with you. That's what you want me to do, isn’t it?” The person addressed in this condescending tone was.a thin, gray-haired little man, plainly past his youth, but with a certain light in his eyes which showed clearly that he was not past his hope. His figure was stooped, his face worn and thin. His fluttering fingers spoke of bad nerves, but his voice, when he answered his com- pation, was firm and assured. “Fire away; Mr. Revere,” he said. “I don’t believe you’re in a position to undertake a job of this magnitude,” the big man went on. “I speak ad- visedly—for your own good. You are not big enough to compete with the Wartop people.” | “How could that interest you?” Mr. Carr demanded ~ quickly. “You have the plans for our sign in your hands. Say the word, and I’ll put my men to work in the morn- ing.” | “Yes,” the other replied, gazing at a large blue print spread before him, “you have here the greatest idea in illuminated signs I ever saw. Your idea is vastly better than the ones a ne the Wartop people submitted. But you have never built a sign one-tenth as big and impor- tant as this. You want me to give you your first big — job; you want me to pay the first month’s rent, which amounts to five thousand dollars, on a sign which I have no assttrance will ever be erected. I’ve got a lease on the best roof in Broadway, and I am losing money for every day that I don’t use it.. No,’ he added, with a decisive shake of the head, “I can’t afford to take any risks under these conditions with a one-horse company.” For a moment Carr was silent; then he said: “Mr, Revere, do you know why we never put up any of the big signs on Broadway? Because the Wartop Company wouldn’t let us, nor anybody else. I’ve known old Silas Wartop for years; we used to be in the adver- tising business together before anybody ever heard of illuminated signs. Silas handled the business end; I. supplied the ideas. he had been trimming me. We broke up the partner- ship then, and each set up for himself. the one in the plans before you.” . “As I understand it,” the head of the shoe company interrupted, ‘“\Wartop has offered you a chance to worl One day I found out that for years Silas made a quick and big success; I have had a long, slow fight. — But Tl win out now if I can put up one big sign on — Broadway—an exceptional sign, Mr. Revere, such as. went Re Ti Oe. =e Tees £ i, quickly. *thing like it.” less, Wartop is certain to get his sign up. sure that your idea is sound—that these plans can be carried out.” the plans. INDE oe Cane WER a: ; 21 with him again. He has offered to buy you out, hasn’t he?” ‘He has, because he knows I’ve got the imagination which he lacks. He needs me. But 1 can tell you right now, I won't sell out. I’ve been able to get along with- out him for twenty years, and I don’t need him. now.” Mr. Revere folded his hands, and stared out of the window for some time before he spoke. “Tl tell you what I’ll do,” he said, at length; “Ill buy these plans from you. What's your figure?’ “You can’t buy those plans,” Carr replied quietly, his eyes lighting up with pride as he glanced at the blue print. “Those plans embody the greatest idea ever conceived in outdoor advertising. I’m going to put that sign up myself, or it will never go up,” Mr. Revere replied shortly, with an unctuous indul- pr ece: “Come now, that’s sentimentalism, Mr. Carr. Don’t _ let your imagination get the better of you. Now, I rec- ognize the merits of this idea, and I'll buy it—at a fair price.” “T won't sell it,” gedly. There was a long silence, which the shoe man broke. See eare,” he said, “do you know that Wartop will put up a sign at a thousand less per month+than the the advertising man repeated dog- figure you name?” Carr returned “He hasn’t got the man who could design any- “But he can’t put up a sign like this,” ““Neverthe- I am not even “TI know that,’ Mr. Revere responded. Carr did not answer at once. He stared nervously at Then he rose to his feet. “Mr. Revere,”. he said, “I’ll make you another propo- sition. I'll put that sign up at my own risk. You needn’t pay a cent in advance. But if it’s satisfactory, I want a contract for your signs in other cities.” The shoe man looked up in surprise. “Of course,” he said cautiously, “that is very fair. 3ut there is another consideration: time. I want. this sign to be ready New Year’s Eve.” Carr smiled. “This is the tenth of December,” he said. “Would - Wartop guarantee to have the sign ready by the first?” “IT didn’t inquire about that,’ Mr. Revere replied ; cotdly. “Well, I doubt if he’d promise any such thing,” Carr “went on. He stopped, laughed nervously, and then resumed: “But put the time clause in the contract, if you insist.” “T am afraid I will have to,’ said Mr. Revere. ‘And, now, Mr. Carr, before you sign the contract, think. it _all over carefully, will you ? The advertising man ‘nodded, rated up his plang, and * hurried off. CHAPTER II. A FAMILY JAR. While Mr. Revere was still thinking it over and gradu- - ally falling asleep in his luxurious quarters, Carr made for | his: own office, a cold, dingy, uncarpeted room on— First Avenue above the workshop where the signs were built. There were three people in Cart’s organization whom he depended on as on himself: John Burleamp, the chief engineer; Burlcamp’s assistant, Tom Canfield; and, lastly, Mary Winthrop, the stenographer. Burleamp, near forty, was a big, loud-voiced man with an evil temper. Canfield, not yet thirty, was tall, strong, and boyish looking; and Miss W inthrop was pretty and cheerful. The three formed an odd advisory staff. They were waiting for Mr. Carr when he returned from his conference with the shoe man. There was not much formality among them. The struggle to keep the firm alive had brought them together as close as mem- bers of a family. As Mr. Carr entered his office, the three pairs of eyes turned on him with one accord, and almost in one voice the three demanded: “Did you get the contract?” “T did,” said Mr. Carr, “but we've got to finish the job the first of January, or the contract is void, and we get not one cent of money until the sign lights up.” What?’ Burlcamp exclaimed. His powerful voice filled the little office like a burst of thunder. Mr. Carr nodded. “Good!” said Canfield. “Yes, good,” Burlcamp eipioaed anew; “that’s kid talk. Carr, have you gone crazy? Do you know what that means? It means we go out of business, that’s what. It will cost us fifty thousand dollars to put that sign up. Silas Wartop will do everything under the sun to hold up the work when he hears the terms of the contract, and, if everything was O. K., how are we going to get that big thirg finished in twenty days?” “We've got to do it,” said Mr. Carr firmly. “And the money?” Burleamp exclaimed. “I’m going to mortgage my house,” Mr. Carr replied. Burlcamp opened his mouth, then shut it again, his disgust apparently beyond words. “You're right,” Mr. Carr resumed. ‘We'll put that sign up or go out of business. I’m sick of Silas War- top’s hammering me. I’m going to compete with him in the right way, or quit.” Burleamp found his voice again. “You're doing a foolish thing, Carr,” he said. “That is to be seen,” Mr. Carr cut in. “We’re wast- ing time. ‘Take these plans in to Marks, and begin work at once. Miss Winthrop, get your notebook. I'll send a petition to the building department for a permit.” CHAPTER IIL A MISTAKE IN FIGURES. When Tom Canfield with Marks, the chief draftsman, stepped from the stairway to the roof of the Trafalgar - Hotel, the coi:. December air cut their faces like a knife. The day—the fourth after the signing of the eventful Revere contract—was perfectly clear, though a gale blew out of the north and sang down Broadway. Blowing on his fingers, and slapping his hands iugether to keep them warm, Canfield, for the first time, looked over this roof on which it was planned to build the won- derful sign. ‘rom the moment the young engineer, had understood ‘Lie i , NEW . the importance of the project, his heart had been singing with the prospect of the building. Canfield liked a hard job. A structural steel worker at eighteen, he had learned to work in the midst of dan- gers and under adverse circumstances. By chance he had drifted into electrical work, liked it, studied the mysteries of electricity, and then gone into his present work, where he needed both a knowledge of steel structures as well as of electricity. “Marks,” said Canfield, as the two stood at the parapet and gazed down the Great White Way, which was’ just now the great windy way, “‘this is the banner spot for the biggest sign in the world. Look there, we can see down as far as Twenty-third Street and up to Fifty- fourth.” Marks nodded. “We'll have trouble enough getting our sign up,” he replied, “without considering any annoyance the Wartop people may cause us. The wind strains on our layout will be enormous. Nobody ever dreamed of building anything like what we are going at.” “T’m glad of it,” Canfield cut in. Mr. Carr fool with visiting cards. up the real thing. Let’s get busy.” Marks made no reply, but he looked doubtful as he took a steel tape out of his pocket and gave its end to Canfield, while he paced backward, uncoiling it. Marks was always inclined to see the dangers, the disadvantages and dark sides of anything. There were a great many measurements to be made, and the two men had been at work about twenty minutes when the door to the roof opened and some one jumped ‘into view. It was Burlcamp. As soon as he caught sight of Canfield, he bore down on him like an angry bull. . _ “Look here, Canfield,” he shouted, waving his arms, “who told you to come up here and take these dimen- sions ?” | “Nobody,” the jun‘or engineer replied, “but I don’t need to be told what my duties are.” ; ._, “Is that so?” sneered the chief engineer. “Maybe you think you won’t take orders at all? Who’s running this job, anyway, I’d like to know?” “Look here, Burlcamp,”’ Canfield interrupted, “you ‘know as well as I do that every minute has got a double value for us just now.” j But the chief engineer was not the man to listen to argument. ) “You drop that tape,” he cried harshly, “and go back to the shop. I’ll tend to this job myself.” “Tl go,” said Canfield, “but if you try to run the whole job in this way, I seé where J. B. Carr blows up the first of January.” _“That’s none of your business,” Burlcamp snapped, as Canfield turned away. : While the young engineer made for the workshop in First Avenue, he did some hard thinking. Burlcamp had been nasty before this, but Canfield had often had bullies for superiors. They had ceased to worry him. In the present instance, however, something more than his personal feelings were concerned. If Burlcamp’s meanness delayed the construction of the big sign, Mr. Carr would go to the wall. And Canfield liked Mr. Carr, “T’m sick of seeing Here’s where we stick besides liking to win a fight—a fight of any kind: against the elements, against time, against rascality. , { : / this smart aleck. TOP: WEERLY. By the time Canfield reached the shop he had made up his mind what to do. All around.him were men at work under Burlcamp’s instructions. “Billy,” said Canfield, approaching a tall man who was painting one of the wooden figures of the sign, “don’t do. that. Help Masters unpack the last consignment of lights.” 7 “But Mr. Burleamp said this paintin’ was a rush job,” Billy protested. “Do what I tell you,’ Canfield replied sternly. . An hour later Burlcamp, his face red as a*beet from the wind’s keen flaying, his hands numbed, and his toes smarting, stamped into the shop. About the first thing he saw was Billy unpacking light bulbs. - “What do you mean?” howled the angry engineer, as his face went purple. ‘Why ain’t you painting——” “Mr. Canfield’s orders,” Billy interrupted. Burlcamp said not another word, but made straight for the drafting room, where he found Canfield and Marks bending over the dimensions of the Trafalgar roof. “Canfield,” Burlcamp began, “did you take Billy Alder off that job of painting?” “T did,” the young engineer replied, “It’s foolish to do that painting now. We'll have to do it over again after- ward.” “You're fired,” Butlcamp snapped. “Take your hat and coat and go.” “I'll see Carr about that,’ Canfield replied. “See him all you please, but either you or I go.” With that, both men, followed by the curious eyes of — the draftsmen, hurried into Mr. Carr’s office, where he © was found dictating to Miss Winthrop. : “Carr,” Burlcamp began stormily, “I want you to fire — We can’t work together any longer.” “Now, Burlcamp,” Mr. Carr said quietly, “we can’t have any quarreling at this time. Yop know what it means to me to have everything run smoothly.” : “T don’t care,” Burlcamp broke in. “I can’t work with a kid who don’t know his business, and who butts in and) balls up my work, countermands my orders, and stirs the men up to insubordination.” ; “Mr. Carr,” Canfield spoke up, “my chief concern is to get that Revere sign up on time. I don’t want to work against Mr. Burlcamp; I want to work with him. © And that means with him. This job is big enough for two men, or three men—who can work together.” aoe “Listen to that!” the older engineer roared. “There you are, Carr. You see what I’m thinking about. | Fire him and be done with it.” Mr. Carr looked from one to the other of his men. It — was plain this affair troubled him beyond measure. A positive fear shone in his eyes, and Canfield was suddenly _ shocked to note how tired and worn the old man looked. | “Come now, Burlcamp,” said Mr. Carr, “can’t this be ' adjusted? It seems to me two minds are not too many © now. One of you might make a mistake, you know.” __ “T don’t make mistakes,” snapped Burlcamp, ‘When I start that, get some one in my place. But as long as — I hold down my job, I don’t want anybody to interfere. Either Canfield quits, ot’I resign. That’s all.” ae “You say you don’t make mistakes?” asked the young — engineer, with an assurance that directed all eyes on his’ face. | bil ee NEW /TIP -~Burleamp’s frown deepened; then he noted a paper in Canfield’s hand. “What have you got there?” he demanded. “These are your dimensions of the Trafalgar roof,” answered Canfield. ‘‘You’ve e gota maximum length here of two hundred and forty feet. “What of it?” “I took this same measurement before you came,” Can- field went on. ‘I measured two hundred and sixty: feet.” It was still as death in the little office. Even Miss Win- throp stopped the clatter of her typewriter to watch the scene. “Let’s see that data sheet,’ Burlcamp growled. Canfield, held the paper so that his superior could see it, but did not relinquish his hold on it, which drove Burlcamp near to frenzy. “Marks fooled with those figures,” he said savagely, and, eee another word, he rushe j out of the office. Mr..Carr and Canfie!d looked into each other's eyes in aoe his assistant’s thoughts; “Canfield, wili you try to overlook Hationue's perr’? . ae es, Lo wwill, shook hands. _ There the matter rested for the time being. But that evening, when Canfield was slipping into his overcoat to start for home, Marks, the chief draftsman, begged for a word. Marks was plainly agitated, and fingered his gloves nervously. “Mr. Canfield,” he said, calling down. | would quit right now, stay for Carr’s sake,” / “That's right,” Canfield replied. i aw ful temper.” ae ut he was altogethe1 at fault ak time,” Marks went ‘on. “I remember when we took that length I called ‘two sixty’ as plain as day. How he ever put ‘two forty’ in his notebook I don’t know.” _ Canfield looked searchingly into Marks’ face. “Are you sure of that?” he asked. “As sure as I’m standing here,” Marks replied. ae whistled. “Don’t say aw ord of this to a living soul,” he went on. ed won't,’ ’ Marks, answered. “It looks like Burlcamp ae _ “Never waton. ** - The chief draftsman nodded. tem- ’ the younger man replied, and the two “Burleamp gave me an awful but I want to “Burlcamp has an mind,” Canfield cut in, “Keep still and CHAPTER IV. FIGURES AND THE CROOK, “The afternoon of thé seventh day after the begin- ing of the great sign, Canfield, having lunched hastily, potted to the roof of the Trafalgar, where.a gang of n were’ weaving the steel web of the supporting d , stinging rain was falling; the men’s spirits rere plainly drooping under it; lacksmith tried in vain to shield with a sheet-iron hood, uttered and threatened to go out every minute; even he rat-tat-tat of the compressed- -air hammers, sounded nuffled and dismal. Canfield himself felt the depression ‘that hung over all, TOP The older man seemed to be trying to read - the forge fire, which the WEEKLY: : 23 but there was no idea of calling the men off in his thoughts. He looked at the steel frame, and it seemed to him that hardly “any progress had been made since the preceding day. He counted the days remaining of the meager twenty with which he had started. ‘Thirteen days left to finish the job,” he muttered, “and we haven’t started the wiring.” He was still thinking and looking at the work, when Peters, the foreman of the steel builders, came up. “There's something wrong with those new steel corner plates,” he said. “The-rivets don’t fit the drill holes.” Canfield frowned and hurried to a pile of triangular plates to which Peters had referred. “That's strange!’ Canfield exclaimed, as he tried one of the rivets in the drill holes and found the holes too small. “‘These are five-eighths-inch rivets and half-inch holes.” Peters nodded. Canfield stared silently at the pile of plates, and his frow n deepened. “How many are there: ?” he asked. “About twenty,” Peters answered. “There'll be about two hundred more,” Canfield went on. ‘There’s somebody wrong here. I'll go to the fac- tory and see.” With a fresh suspicion in his mind, Canfield hurried to the factory. There he found a machinist at work drill ing the remaining plates. “Let me see your blue print,” said Canfield. The blue print showed that the, original five-eighths- inch dimensions had been stricken out with a lead pencil and some one had substituted therefor the wrong dimen- sions, “Who changed those figures?’ Canfiel d demanded, “L don’t know,” the machinist replied. “Those are five-eighths holes,” said Canfield hastily. “Change your drill.” With that he hurried to the drafting room. glance showed that Burleamp was not at his desk. “Where is Burlcamp?” Canfield asked Marks. era “He hasn’t been here since lunch,” the chief draftsman replied. “Anything wrong?” : ¥, “Yes,” Canfield went on. “Somebody has been chang- © ing dimensions on our blue prints. We must call in all prints relating to the steel supports.” Two hours later Canfield and Marks had finished the work of examining the remaining prints. Only here and there, in matters of the minor importance, did they find any more falsifications. But these small items, when summed up, meant an incalculable delay in the construc-_ tion: “Mighty clever work,” said Marks, “Yes,” Canfield added, “and it was done by. some one who knows the inside pretty thoroughly.” The young engineer gathered up the doctored sheets, and went into Mr. Carr’s office. ma Carr was not in, “He went home an hour ago,’ Miss. Winthrop ex- plained. ‘He said he was not “feeling well. He looked very sick,” " : Canfield frowned and bit hfs lip. “That’s bad,” he muttered. “Anything wrong ?” Miss Winthrop iad. “Well, yes,” Canfield replied. Then he stopped and lool ked fixedly at the girl, who dropped her eyes. A ha&ty 24 : NEW “TIP «TOP “WEEKLY “T didnt mean ,to stare,” said Canfield quickly, “but I was just thinking you might help me in a matter of grave importance.” “What is it?” “I have ground for suspecting one of our men of crooked work here.” “Have you told Mr. Carr?” “No, because I can’t prove anything,’ Canfield an- swered, ‘‘and I know Carr won’t believe me unless I can show positive proof.” At that instant the door opened, and Burlcamp entered. “Hello, Canfield,’ he said good-naturedly. “How 1s uthe work on the roof coming?” “Very well,” the junior engineer replied. along now.” “T’ll run CHAP EIR Vv. IN THE NICK OF TIME. Canfield spent the rest of the day with Marks, correct- ing and. checking up prints. He was preparing to leave the drafting room, when Miss Winthrop came to him. “Mr. Canfield,” she said, “you were telling me of some underhand work in the office.” | Lr ee. ”? “Well, when I came in this morning,” the girl con- tinued, “I noticed that some one had gone through my desk. I thought nothing of it at the time, because Mr. Carr often takes carbons of his letters from my desk.” “Was anything missing?” “Yes; I just made sure; the copies of the wiring speci- fications for the big sign are gone.’ “Who had the original ?” asked Canfield. “Mr. Carr sent the original to the Ball Wire Company three days ago,” the girl replied. Canfield sighed with relief. - “Then there’s not much ee done,” “That wire will be along in a couple of days.” But when the engineer went home that night he had a vague presentiment that all was not so well concerning the order for that copper wire. Later that night it oc- curred to him that he might have asked Marks if there was another copy of those specifications. He went to bed, blaming himself for not finding out. The more he thought about it, the more he worried. Nothing in the construction of the sign was of more importance than the maze of copper wires which were to carry current to. the lamps. Nothing had required more painstaking labor than the task of ns the right sizes and lengths of wire. It seemed to Canfield that he had lain in bed for hours thinking of that wire, when he decided that he would never be able to sleep until he was absolutely sure that _those specifications were safe. Thereupon he ee out of bed, dressed, and made for the factory. It was still raining and growing colder, so th at the - tain was mixed with sleet and snow. But the cold down- fall and the sharper air cooled the young engineer’s blood, and by the time he reached the dingy shop on First Ave- nue, all the fogginess was one from his mind, Every faculty was alert. The offices were beaghed ftom the workshop by a flight of stairs in the rear. As Canfield was picking his way through the blackness of the shop, he heard a footfall overhead. he remarked. breaking through the deathlike He stopped, The sound suddenly stillness jarred every nerve in “his body ; straining his ears. As he stood and listened, he heard the footsteps again. Mr. Carr had gone home sick. Who else could have any business here? The suspicion of crookedness which Canfield had been entertaining for the past week came to him again with fresh force. Perhaps, now, he would find out the truth. Cautiously, and with infinite care to make no noise, he crept up the stairs. At the top, under the door to the drafting room, filtered rays of light. Canfield put his eye to the keyhole. back with a half-smothered cry of satisfaction. seen Burlcamp bending over Marks’ desk. TO BE CONTINUED. Then he started He had Oe THE BOY ARTIST. | By LIEUTENANT, MURRAY. On March 15, 1879, we found ourselves ascending to the top of the famous cathedral of Milan, a struc- ture that has been so many centuries in building, and which is not yet completed. . Once upon the summit, the sensation is very Fak like that experienced when sus- pended in a balloon; standing as you do in an isolated pinnacle four hundred feet above the earth. 3elow you lies the city of Milan, the capital of Lom- _ bardy, the dwellings, churches, and towers resembling toy — houses; the people in the broad Via Victor Emmanuel But the distant view — seem to be exaggerated insects. is glorious indeed, and fully repays the toil of those almost endless steps which lead you to the summit. The | green and fertile plains of Lombardy stretch away from the ‘city walls on all sides until they meet the foothills of the Alpine range, or mingle with the horizon toward | 4 the distant shores of the Adriatic. In the range of sight lay Mont Blanc, Mont Cenis, Mont St. Bernard, the Simplon Pass, the Bernese Ober- land range, and far away in the northeast the long reach of the Tyrolean Alps looms up, their white snow crests glistening in the bright sunshine. A gauzelike veil of golden mist just shrouds the finest of pinnacles beneath your feet, and which spring from all parts ofthe wonderful structure. The picture is in- delible. You can never forget its comprehension and marvelous beauty, nor the thrilling sensation which sends _ the blood leaping through your veins as you gaze pe the dizzy height of this “eighth wonder of the world, 4 aed the Milanese call the Duomo, in their excusable pride. Coming down from the lofty spire of the famous cathe- dral we turned our steps toward the west gate of the city to the small piazza, in which are the remains of a former convent of St. Maria delle Grazie, and which are to- i i day used as a cavalry barrack. But within the ancient — structure the large hall which once formed the refectory — of the convent is carefully preserved and guarded by — the government with aati care. ‘Here is what the world estimates as one of the great- oe est works of art and genius extant. People have made a pilgrimage of thousands of miles to see this famous eee painted in oils upon the bare walls of the old convent. Next to the cathedral it is the great attrac- - chemist, NEW TIP tion to the traveler who visits northern Italy, and is held in almost sacred veneration by the citizens them- selves. Splendid copies in oils, as well as the finest line en- gravings, have rendered this picture of “The Last Sup- per” familiar to the world, but the great original, in all its effectiveness, can never be removed. It must go, by and by, with the crumbling walls, for even now the finger of time has touched it here and there, but still has left us the perfect effect of the inspired artist, Leonardo da Vinci. The painting is too familiar to all to require detailed -description, but as it presents itself in the original it covers one entire end of the large and lofty hall, and would measure, the figures being all life size, some forty by fifteen feet, as near as one can recall its actual dimen- sions. It is never without visitors standing before it during the hours of daylight, many being drawn thither by religious instinct, as to a chay yel in the cathedral, kneeling and offering up a silent prayer. It is impossible not to be filled with admiration as one stands before the glorious work and not to recall the history of its renowned author, the universal genius of his day. He was painter, poet, sculptor, architect, astronomer, the idol and ornament of courts, and the companion of sages. He was a man as beauti- ful in mind as in person, and with a heart as pure and noble as his intellect. The imagination became very busy as. we stood there quietly before the grandest effort of this genius, who, though dead, still lives in the appreciation of a Christian world. We had only to close our eyes to be carried back to the fifteenth century, and into a dimly lighted Italian studio, decorated by pieces of old armor, helmets, ban- ners, fragments of antique statues, panels covered with unfinished drawings, a few artists’ materials scattered here and there, and many an uncompleted sketch, a stu- dio having all of the characteristic confusion, irregu- larity, and uncleanliness that, attaches to the domestic “surroundings of the dreamyvartist who lives so far above ‘everyday life in his vivid imagination, ~ On an easel in the center of this untidy and ancient studio, upon which the rays from a skylight descend almost vertically, is a large picture representing the bap tism of our Savior by St. John. An old man, palette and pencil in hand, stands gazing at the picture. It is his own evidently, but why that strange, enraptured gaze with which he now regards the canvas? It-is not at the painting as a whole that the gray- haired artist is gazing. His eyes are not arrested by the central group ; but he regards with admiration mingled _ with astonishment the shining figure of an angel holding up a mass of drapery to permit. the spectator to behold _the scene of the baptism. A supernatural halo seems ‘to surround the radiant figure. Color, light, shade, ex- pression, nothing is wanting to the illusive effect of the painting. Long and silently the old painter, Andrea Watnseliao, gazed upon the work, now retiring for a few paces, now -returning to a nearer view. What did it mean? He had been absent for but three days, and here he re- turned to find a wonderful addition to his baptismal scene, as if by magic. Still in wonder and admiration. TOP WEEKLY. : 25 he gazed. At length, calling his boy pupil, to whom he was imparting the rudiments of art, and who aided him in the mixing and preparing of his colors. “Boy, who has been here in my absence?” “No one, master.” “Art sure, boyt”’ Ph aid sure,- “And yet my work is meddled with.” “T am sorry,” said the lad, with contrition. When called by his master the boy had emerged from the shadow of some curtains which had partially con- cealed him when old Andrea first entered. He stood abashed, as though he had beer guilty of some misde- meanor, and expected severe reproof, while his slender but graceful figure as he stood there before his master gave promise of a coming beauty which ‘should be as radiant as that of the angel in the picture. “Boy,” repeated the old artist. “T am here, master.” “Who painted that?” vl did, Master Andrea, “And who assisted you: 7 TWOLOne.. >, “So, so,’ mused the old painter, again approaching the canvas and gazing at it. The boy was expeeting and awaiting the reproof. “You did it alone?” “Alone,” responded the puj re quite abashed at the pro- tracted examination. ; “Ts it ill done?” finally ventures. the boy. “Til done! It is a masterpiece. My own work is but a daub beside it. The child has vanquished the veteran at his own art. Henceforth Andrea Varocchio will never touch pencil more.’ And the old master kept his word. But he—the boy ”? replied the boy, blushing. 3) -artist—was this figure a premature blossom of promise, which should bear no fruit? . No, it was the first of a series of triumphs rising in greatness till “The Last Sup- per,” still the admiration of the Christian and artistic. world, crowned the fame of Leonardo da Vinci. PILLSBURY’S BOY. By MAX ADELER. A family named Pillsbury, having moved into our neighborhood, Cooley’s boy leaned over the fence be- tween his yard and mine and gave me his impressions of Pillsbury’s boy, Bill, a lad about fourteen years old: “Yes, me and him are right well acquainted now. Bin skeetin’ together down on the dam, and havin’ fun snow- ballin’ old Belcher. It makes him mad as fury. I kin beat Bill skeetin’, but he knows mgre’n I do, and he’s had more experience. Bill says his father used to be a robber—Mr. Pillsbury, by the way, is a deacon in the Presbyterian Church, and a very excellent lawyer—and that he has ten million dollars in gold buried in his cel- lar, along with a whole lot of human bones, people he’s killed. -And he says his father is a conjurer, and that he makes all the earthquakes that happen anywheres in the world. The old man’ll come home at night, after there’s been an earthquake, all covered with sweat and so tired he ‘in hardly stand, Bill says, it’s such hard work. “And Bill tole me that once when a man came around - there trying to sell lightning rods, his father got mad ‘ 26 ? : NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. and eat him, eat him right up, and he takes bites out of everybody he comes acrost. “That’s what Bill tells me. That's all: I know about it. And he tole me that once he used to have a dog, one of these little kind of dogs, and he was, flying his kite, and just for fun he tied the kite string to his dog’s tail. And then the wind struck her, and his dog went a-bloomin’ down the street, with his hind legs in the air for about a mile, when the kite all of a suddem begun to go up, and in about a minute the dog was fifteen miles high, and commanding a view of California, and Egypt, and Osh- kosh, I think Bill said. He came down, anyhow, I know, in Brazil, and Bill said he swum home all the way in the Atlantic Ocean, and when he landed his legs was. all nibbled off by sharks. “T wish father’d buy me a dog, so’s I could send him up that way. But I never have no luck. Bill said that where they used to live he went out on the roof one day to fly his kite, and hé sat on top of the chimbly to give her plenty of room, and while he was sitting there, think- ing about nothing, the old man put a kag of powder down below in the fireplace to clean the soot out of the chimbly. And when he touched her off, Bill was blowed over agin’ the Baptist Church steeple, and he landed on the weather- cock, with his pants torn, and they couldn’t git him down for three days, so he hung there, going around and around with the wind, and he lived by eating the crows that came and sat on him, because they thought he was made of sheet iron, and put up there on purpose. “He's had more fun than enough. He was telling me the other day about a sausage killer his brother in- vented. It was a kinder machine that worked with a treadle; and Bill said the way they did in the fall was to fix it on the hog’s back, and connect the treadle with a string, and then the hog’d work the treadle, and keep on running it up and down until the machine cut the hog all up fine and shoved the meat into the skins. Bill said his brother called it ‘Every Hog His Own Stuffer,’ _and it worked splendid. But I do’ know. Bill may ’a’ bin blowing. ’Pears to me’s if there couldn't ‘be no machine like that. But, anyway, Bill said so. “And he tole me. about an uncle of his out in Australia who was et by a big oyster once, and when he got inside ‘he stayed there until he’d et the oyster. Then he split the shells open and took half a one for,a boat, and he sailed along until he met a sea serpent, and he killed it and drawed off its skin, and when he got home he sold it to an engine company for a hose, for forty thousand/dol- lars, to put out fires with. Bill said that was actually so, because he could show me a man who used to belong to the engine company. I wish father’d let me ‘go out to find a sea serpent like that; but he don’t let me have no chance to distinguish myself. ; “Bill was saying only yesterday that the Indians caught him once and drove eleven railroad spikes through his stomach, and cut off his scalp, and it never hurt him a bit. He said he got away by the daughter of the chief sneaking him out of the wigwam and lending him a horse. Bill says she was in love with him, and when I asked him to let me see'the holes where they drove in those spikes, he said he daren’t take off his clothes or he’d bleed to death. He gaid his own father didn’t know it, because _ Bill was afraid it might worry the old man. “And Bill tole me they wasn’t going to get him to go ‘to Sunday school. He says his father has a brass idol. that he keeps in the garret, and Bill says he’s made up his mind to be a pagan, and to. begin to go naked, and carry a tomahawk, and a bow and arrow, as soon as the’ warm weathey comes. And to prove it to me he says his father has this town all underlaid with nitroglycerin, and as soon.as he gets ready he’s going to blow the old thing out, and bust her up, and let her rip, and demolish her. He said so down on the dam, and tole me not to tell anybody, but I thought they’d be no harm in men- tioning it to you. : “And now I believe I must be going. I hear Bill a whistling. Maybe he’s got something else to tell me.” The Pillsbury family, I think, will be profitable to the youth of this community. 2 —_—_—_—<9 + + >—__—_- BIRDS THAT DIVE DEEPLY. A loon’s favorite dish is fish, and the great depth to which one of these creatures will dive to capture a fish has been many times proved by set-line fishermen on Lake . Keuka. Hundreds of set lines are put out into the lake lf there are many loons on | in the spring and autumn, the lake at such times, the fishermen expect to be both- ered more or less by them, as they are inveterate pur- loiners of set-line bait—live and dead minnows and — shiners—by diving to the bottom and clearing off the bait by the score. break the anchorage or fastening of the set line on the bottom, that loon will have to drown, When the fisher- man takes in his lines he will haul up the dead loon. —_—____—<} 0.9 + @—____—_ rt a HOW TO PREPARE WAX FOR TAKING MOLDS. es To prepare wax for taking molds, put some common _ beeswax into an earthenware pot, place it over a slow fire, and, when it is all melted, stir into it a little white — lead (flake white) or plumbago—say about one ounce of the lead to a pound of the wax.. This mixture tends to prevent the mold from cracking when cooling and from floating in the solution. It should be remelted two or © three times before using for the first time. Another kind is made thus: Melt carefully over a moderate fire two pounds of yellow beeswax, add four ounces and a half of Venice turpentine, two ounces of lard, and one * * pound and three-quarters of purified bole, and mix thor- _ oughly, Then gradually pour the mixture into a vessel containing water and thoroughly knead several times with the hands. The wax should be melted at such a low tern-| perature that no bubbles appear upon the melted surface. os te ot Oe THE WHITE HOUSES OF BERMUDA. sermuda is the original home of the “White House.” The simplest bungalow is built of the same material as the most pretentious villa, in almost precisely the. same’ way. White coral blocks cut from the backbone of the islands are used for all building purposes. Many of the well-to-do negroes live in lovely little white coral bunga- lows and cottages, which for vivid, radiant whiteness would surpass the executive mansion at Washington. Paint icannot rival the dazzling luster of Bermuda’s lime-. washed coral buildings, shimmering as they do in t brilliant, subtropical sunshine like pillars of light. _ It frequently happens that in doing | this a loon will swallow hook and all, and unless he can | taell tie: id a oe OD LY RS AS OA obeet OS Oe Sibeateodh’ Tm ws eH FO ON, - bureau which virtually conducts a NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. NEWS ITEMS OF.INTEREST. Philbin Voted Yale’s Best Athlete. Yale’s senior vote chose Vanderbilt Webb, of New York, as the most brilliant member of the class of 1913 and the most versatile. Harold Stanley, golf champion, was adjudged the sportiest, and Archer Harman, of New York, hockey captain, the handsomest and most popular member. Holladay Philbin, of New York, son of Eugene A. Philbin, formerly district at- torney, was voted the best athlete, with Douglass Bomeisler, football player, sec- ond. R. Robins, Yale News business man- ager, was considered most likely to suc- ceed, and George Bruce Cortelyou was sec- ond. Cole Porter, of Cleveland, glee club leader, won the vote as the most entertain- ing classman. Clever Thieves Steal $20,000 on Shipboard, A Madrid dispatch states that the Ham- burg-American liner Cup Blanco, which arrived at Vigo from Rio de Janeiro, re- ports a mysterious theft of gold during the voyage. When the steamer left Rio she carried £50,000 ($250,000) in German gold coins in- closed in ten boxes, which were locked in the ship’s safe. On arriving at Vigo it was found that one of the boxes, containing £4,000 ($20,000), had disappeared. The safe bore marks of having been forced open. Although a wireless message was sent to the Vigo authorities and,the liner was - surrounded by police when she entered the harbor, no clew to the thieves was found. Russia Would Oust Our Machinery. An extensive series of experiments with agricultural implements was carried oyt by the Russian department of agriculture dur- ing the season of 1912, with a view to put- ting an end to the dependence of Russia on American manufacturers. Over i100 reapers, mowers, hay rakes, and other im- plements manufactured in Canada and va- rious European countries, were put to work under the supervision of officials of the department. A considerable number of. these imple- ments, according to an official report just issued, successfully stood the tests under varied and difficult conditions—notably those coming from Canada. Others of those tried were found adaptable to Rus- sian conditions, and it is stated that they can be manufacturéd equally well in Russia. The department of agriculture is send- ing out copies of the report of codperative societies and local government boards all over the country, as the Russian farmers are largely supplied through these sources. The government hopes to induce agricul- turists to substitute other implements for the American machines generally in use. “Seventy- two per cent of the business in this kind of machinery i$ now in the hands of manufacturers in the United States. This. Railroad Conducts a School. One of the interesting phases of the Union Pacific Railroad is the educational com- i ee nee school for employees. . The instruction is offered to any worker whose desire to better himself is strong enough to make him willing to study. The lessons are carefully corrected and graded by officials of the railroad and returned to the men. Record sheets are also furnished in order that the men may keep an account of the work done and the percentages re- ceived. ject matter and method. made to mark anything but substance. Writing, spelling, grammar, and punctua- tion are not taken into consideration in as- signing per cents. Handles $180,000,000 Annually. Doctor Alvah H. Thompson, who will pay out $180,000,000 annually as disbursing clerk of the pension service, was formerly chief’ of the finance division, pension de- partment. The sum which he will handle was until recently passed out through eigh- teen pension agencies, which were abolished the first of the year. No Color Line by Bankers. Jesse Binga, a negro banker, with offices at 3648 South State Street, Chicago, re- cently applied for membership in the Il- linois Bankers’ Association, He the vote admitting him was unanimous. He became the first negrd member of the association. E. D. Durham presented Binga’s name and made a speech in his favor. No effort was made to conceal the fact that the appli- cant;was a negro and thio one raised the color question, “There was nothing unusual in the ac- tion,” said Richard Crampton, secretary of the association. “There are several negroes who belong to the National Association of Bankers, and I have never heard that any banker was rejected because of his color. No attempt is So far as I know it is the first time a negro|m ever applied for merhbership in our organi- zation. There was no discussion of the race question.” . Professor Ledouble’s Prediction Regarding the Man of the Future. The man of the future, according to A. F, Ledouble,- professor of medicine» at Tours, France, will have a larger head, fewer teeth, and shorter arms than the man of to- day, and will compare) with him unfavorably in stature. Professor Ledouble declares that the evo- lution of the white man will produce a type in which the upper part of the head will be strongly developed and the forehead will be broader and rounder. Owing to the fact that our food becomes increasingly easy to masticate, the human jawbone will diminish in size and strength and the num- ber of teeth will be reduced. Among the primitive races in Austral- asia, the professor states, it is not uncom- mon to. find natives with thirty-six, and even more, teeth, but the white man of to- morrow will be lucky if he has twenty- eight. There is a tendency, says Rrofessor Le- double, for the first, eleventh, and twelfth ribs to disappear, thus leaving nine instead of twelve on either side of the body. Legs % The lessons are practical in sub- | and arms are destined to shrink in length, but the hand, which to-day shows im- mense progre$8s compared with that of our remote ancestors, will continue to progress in the direction of the independence of the fingers. The little toe will become smaller and smaller. Jeffries Swears Off. “Jim” Jeffries’ saloon recently Bar- ney Oldfield began to banter the ex-cham- pion about his ability to leave off the use of liquor and cigarettes. Jeffries became angry and offered to bet any amount that the automobile racer would cover that he could not only keep from drinking for twelve months, but could drop cigarettes. By bidding against each other they finally had $2,800 as the stakes which will go to Jeffries next year if he observes the con- ditions of the wager. If he does not, he will lose his own $1,400 as well as what Oldfield put up. Some of the bystanders thought that Jeffries made the bet so that he might be forced to get into condition and thus “come back” as a “white hope,” but he laughingly | denied this. Huge Income of Colleges. Approximately $35,00,000 represents the- ‘total working income received by eighty- seven State universities and other State- aided institutions of higher education dur- ing the last year, according to a bulletin issued recently by the Federal bureau of education. Of this sum the Federal gov- ernment contributed about $5,000,000, and the States $18,000,000. The regular cur- rent income of most of. these institutions from public appropriations represents a definite capitalization of about $400,000,000. The year’s income passed the $2,000.000 ark in the case of the universities of Illi- nois, with $2,363,711; Minnesota, with $2,- 682,499, and Wisconsin, with $2,122,297. Cornell University, which is technically a private institution, but receives State and Federal aid, reported total receipts of over $3,000,000, with a net income, available for current expenses, of about $1,500,000. Other State-aided institutions in the $1,- 000,000-income class include the Universi- ties of Michigan, with $1,343,057; of Ohio, with $1,011,571, and of California, with $1,711,393. The last had an additional $500,- c00 from private benefactions. The State of Iowa supports several institutions of college and university ra@k, with a com- bined income of over $2,000,000. Bar Frats from New York High School. Fraternities are to be barred in the high schools of New York City. The board of education recently decided that such organi- zations will not be allowed among the pu-. pils while in school and will not be recog- nized by ‘the principals or teachers. Mute’s Achievement. George A. Holmes, who has entered on his fifty-seventh year in the office of regis- ter of deeds in Suffolk County, Mass., was born bereft of speech and hearing. He at- tended the American School for the Deaf, 28 where he received an educa- admirably fitted’ him for. his future life work. Probably no other man in this country is quite so familiar with the real-estate transfers in his county as this New Englander. at Hartford, tion which Famous Detective to Retire. Frank Froest, one of the most famous in- vestigators ever produced at Scotland Yard, is about to retire, after thirty-four yéars in the service, He is responsible for one of the greatest reforms accomplished at “The Yard,” by breaking down the rule of maintaining obdurate silence toward the press. He never made the mistake of tell- ing the newspaper men all he knew, but everything he thought it was right for them to know, and no more. Finest Prison Ever. The new State penitentiary which has been designed for Illinois will have the best features known in modern architecture for buildings of this kind, such as sunshine in every cell, circular cellhouses, aud outside cell for each prisoner. The circular ar- rangement of cells is the European plan, and is considered much more healthy. Ina little while, perhaps (suggests the New Or- leans Picayune), state officials will change the name. of penitentiaries to “hotels for the detention of ctiminals.” . To Raise Work Cattle. North Dakota capitalists have purchased a ranch in Saskatchewan, Canada, where they will raise work cattle for the market. Oxen are in greater demand by the farm- ers of that section than horses, the ranch- men declare, and for many years it has been impossible to supply the demand. Berlin’s New Restaurant. Berlin has just opened a new hotel with a roof-garden restaurant, the first of its kind in Germany. It will command a splen- did view on summer nights of the famous Berlin Zoo and the brilliantly illuminated environment. The hotel represents an in- vestment of $2,500,000. Chinamen Must Deposit $1,000. Chinamen will be permitted to enter Pan- ama in future only after depositing $1,- ooo to guarantee their return to China on completion of their contracts with the firm in whose service they come out. Filipinos Pass Examinations, Progress toward higher civilization among the Filipinos is shown by the in- sular bureau of civil service. During 1912 sixty examinations were held, exactly like those given fo? admission to government employ in’the United States. Twenty-nine per cent of the 7,422 persons examined passed. On January 1, 1912, there were 8,713 persons in the insular ‘civil service, representing an increase during the year of 1 099 persons. Americans and 1,052 Filipinos. Commerce via Isthmuses Heavy. One hundred and twenty-five million dol- lars represents the value of the commerce between the Atlantic and, Pacific coasts of the United States via the Isthmuses of Panama and Tehuantepec during the last year. he rapid growth in this trade, j ee developed within recent years, ac- Of the 1,099 there were 47| EP: TOR WEER LY: NEW the bureau of sta- likely to increase of the Panama cording to a statement by tistics recently, seems further with the opening Canal. The reeord for the with November shows $24,500,000 worth of merchandise passing from the Atlantic coast to the Pacific coast via the Tehuante- pec Railroad and $5,000,000 worth via the Panama Railroad; while the value of that passing from the Pacific coast! to the At- lanaic via the Tehuantepec line was about $14,330,000, and via the Panama line $3,- 750,000. This indicates that the total value of the traffic for the half year ended De- cember 31 was approximately $30,000,000 westbound across the Tehuantepec route and $6,0c0,000 via the Panama line, and of eastbound coming from the Pacific coast ports and Hawaii $16,000,000 via Tehuan- tepec and $4,500,000 via Panama, and that the total yalue of this traffic for the full year approximates $125,000,000, five months ending Almost Escaped Hanging, Several persons sentenced to be hanged in the District of Columbia would have es- caped death had President Taft signed the bill) recently passed by the Senate and House substituting death by electricity for hanging as a method of Capit al punish- ment in the District. The Senate, discovering that the new law, which was to have become effective imme- diately, abolished the penalty in pending cases, adopted a joint resolution recalling the bill from the White House, awaited the president’s signature. From Brakeman to Vite President. Adelbert P. Whaley, who 34 years ago was yanking brakes and shouldering freight as a brakeman on the old Worcester & Providence Railroad for $1.62 per day, on February 1 became vice president in charge of: operations of the New York, New Haven & Hartford Railroad, a position carrying a salary of $20,000 a year. He was elected to the office at a meeting of the New Haven directors held in Boston. The position to which Mr. Whaley has risen from one of the humblest places in the railroad business is the most important on the New Haven road so far as the con- venience and safety of the traveling public is concerned. Train Runs into Steamer on Track. Floating over the track of the Louis- ville & Nashville Railroad between Burn- nlite, Ky., and Cumberland City, the Lochie S., a small steamer, which had been car- ried away by the flood of the Cumberland River, was struck by a freight train. The boat crew had sighted the train and tried to give distress signals, but trainmen understood the situation the freight enginer had ripped a big hole in the side of the steamer. The Cumberland backwater has been over the railroad tracks for several days, but the freight crew did not believe it was of sufficient depth to necessitate the stopping of the train. f Against Biblical Plays, A movement to exclude from the play- houses of Boston scenes depicting the life of Christ neached the State House, where ‘the committee on legal affairs heard several arguments. The theaters were not represented, and a where it |* before the’ only one voice was raised in their behalf. Theodore W. Curtis said that the legisla- tion desired would have a tendency to pre- vent freedom of thought by the people. Among those opposed to biblical plays was the Reverend Leopold A. Nies, pastor of the Bromfield Street Methodist Church, Boston, who quoted Bishop Lawrence and the late Bishop Mallalieu in support of his attitude. Those led by Mr. Nies wished the word “sacrilegious” written into the law which gives the me yor and police commissioner authority to prohibit theatrical exhibitions. which are obscene or immoral. New York Girls Neglected Leap-year Priv- ileges, Leap. year ended with far fewer New York girls having taken advantage of their opportunities than Chicago girls. Com- — pared with an increase of over 3,000 mar- riages in Chicago last year, as reported in a dispatch from that city, the marriage license bureau in New York announces an excess of only about 2,000 marriages in New York over the number in 1911. The total for last year has been 48,264.. The marriage- license clerks declare that there is no ‘doubt that leap year continues to have its effect in matrimonial business, and say that records every leap year keep up the tradition. Town Excited by Supposed Miracle Until: Priest Solves Puzzle. A picture of the Madonna, whose eyes hundreds of persons declared were moving, caused a great deal of excitement at the home of Miss Kate Fox, a public school- | teacher, living in South Bethlehem, Pa. The © picture had been in the Fox family for years, and before it her mother, who was — found dead about two months ago, is said to have prayed five hours a day. Miss Fox said she believed the spirit of her mother had returned. A thousand persons sought admittance to’ the house. In the midst of the excitement a Catholic priest, after examining the pic- ture, declared it to be a lithographic freak, due to inaccurate eyes. The picture was. destroyed, te Son of Officer of Napoleon in Disdheday. An attempt is being made among mem- bers of the American colony to do some- thing to relieve the pitiable situation On; an old man who is the last living link with the great Napoleon. Pierre Schamel-Roy, son ‘of an orderly officer of the emperor, — was born at the palace of Versailles, F *rance, August 25, 1807, and as a child was a plays mate of the King of Rome, a doll given him by the little prince being still in his — possession; he distinctly remembers the emperor and his kindly ways. with chil- dren, This remarkable centenarian now has to live on 30 cents a day, the pension accorded to him by the Paris public suarlty board. Sik Pall toe Rane es Christy Mathewson, the only world’s- series hero who“never won a game, was surprised when he opened his mail re cently to find an admiring “fan” had sent him a valuable token. It was nothing less than a metallic replica of-a baseball, heav- ily plated with gold. According to the in- scription, the trophy was presented - fo Matty’s he cera) work “during the Nationa 20.71, the lowest. League pennant race and the world’s series of 1012.” The ball is an exact official league ball, stitches and all, and has what John Foster, secretary of the club, calls a Roman finish. It is hollow inside: The man who made the present signed himself C. F. Pritchard, of West Thirty- fourth Street. He isa stranger to the big pitcher, who, however, was none the less pleased with the gift. “Big Six” did not hesitate to declare that he was more than delighted with it, although last season was full of bobbles and mistakes for him, and he wanted to forget it as quickly as pos- sible. Sti'l -he took pleasure in thinking that his work was appreciated. Wagner, Veteran Pirate, Has Basket-ball Club Who Have Won 46 Games, Hans Wagiier brought his famous hand- picked basket-ball team into Pittsburgh re- cently just to show the South Side five how the game is played in Carnegie, Pa. When the contest was finished, Hans re- marked: “Well, that’s forty-six straight.” And it’s a fact. Wagner’s team has never lost a game. They play at least five “games a weck. When asked why he indulged in such a violent game during the winter Hans said: “Um doing this to improve my wind, You know us old fellows have to do gym work to keep in condition. But don’t be- lieve the story that I’m not going to last through the coming season. I'll play all season jist like I always do. The sport writers retire me once a year, but I haven’t thought of it yet.” Shakes Off Shroud. As an undertaker was preparing to em- balm ‘his body, Harry Brigham, a long-time resident of Ulysses, Pa., shook off. his shroud, straightened up in bed, and asked duplicate of an for breakfast. \ After eating Brigham said he felt bet- ter than he had in several days. Brig- ham, who has been ill a long time, was found “dead” by his family; who after two hours’ effort to arose him, summoned an undertaker without first calling a physi- cian, Decrease of Birth Rate in Prussia. _ The mortality rate increé ised and the birth rate decreased during 1911 in Prussia. ports just published show deaths of 17.21 _ per 1,000 inhabitants against 16.19 for 1910. ~The department of the interior finds the ex- planation for this in the heat wave of Jo1T. In that quarter of the year 51,000 more per- sons died than in the corresponding quar- ter of the preceding year, and 37,000 of _ these were infants. The falling of the birth rate, however, is the greatest recorded for any year. It sank from 30.83 in 1910 to 29.36 per 1,000 in- habitants. As a result of the higher death rate and lower birth rate the total increase of pepulation was 86,000 less than in ro10. est Prussia, Posen, and Westphalia show the highest birth rate, Berlin, with Of Prussia’s 33 cities with more’ than 100,000 inhabitants fifteen show an infant mortality exceeding the total average of 212.3 per 1,000 for the state asawhole. | _ There were 8,442 suicides, 250 more than in 1910, but precisely the same number as \ uF 1909. The rate stays at about 21 suicides Re-' NEW = TIP TOP WEEKLY. per 100,000 of population for the state, although Berlin, with the highest rate recorded in any governmental division, has 35.09. There were fifty less murders than in 1910 and 120 less than in 1909. The mur- der rate is 1.860 per 100,000 of population. Famous Ball Player Once Sold for Three Dollars. Joe Tinker, the Red’s new manager, who cost the Cincinnati club somewhere about $50,000, once sold for $3. Of course, that was in the way-back dais of his career, It was right at the top start. Joe was playing shortstop for a semi- professional team in Kansas City in 1897. Another semipro team wanted him and of- fered $3. The offer was taken up so quickly the manager who made it believed ‘the must be stung. Tinker has a lot to show service in the National League. large tract. of Oregon fruit home in Chicago, several for his long He owns a land, a fine pieces of a big bank account, Ban on Yale’s Basket-ball Team. By playing the Crescent-A. C. five, of Brooklyn, the Yale varsity basket-ball team has been automatically disqualified by the Amateur Athletic Union, and will not: be permitted to play any more basket-ball teams registered in the A. A, U. In addi- tion to being disqualified the game resulted in a defeat for the college men, 29 to 13. Advises Schoolboys About What to Read. W. Pett Ridge, distributing prizes in con- nection with the Brockley’ Secondary School, of London, said he performed that duty with the greatest reluctance because he would have to give away many of the articles which he should like to have kept himself. On literature his advice to the boys was to avoid the 100 best books, because the probable result of reading those 100 best books would be the 100 worst headaches. Dickens, Scott, and Thackeray, he said, were all good and nothing had done so much for the eradication of selfishness and the fostering of benevolence at Dickens’ “Christmas Carol,” which probably took two mornings to write. In conclusion, Mr. Pett Ridge said schoolboys and the officials of Scotland Yard were the only people who looked upon the world with the proper curiosity. France Plans to Open College of Athletics Next April, Stung by the poor showing of her ath- letes at the Olympian games at Stockholm last summer, and striving to be better rep- resented in 1916, France is making elabo- rate preparation for the opening of the new “aoitege of athletics” in April. The establishment of the college was in- augurated by. a committee of which the Marquis de Polignac is the head. Lieuten- ant Georges Hebert, a French naval of- ficer, has been chosen director of the in- stitution, and the work of selecting the stu- dents is now in’ progress. Find Dog and Goat in 12-foot Shark. When a 12-foot 6-inch shark caught in Mauritius was*cut open a dog, a goat, and a large collection of bones of animals .were found inside. The shark was caught with ‘ whole | real | estate in Kansas City, a big automobile, and | | fall, a 2-inch line from a 20-foot open boat, and was hauled to the surface after a des-\ perate struggle, says a writer in the Fieid. “During the fight the scene had been ex- citing—the boat rolling, the men pulling and hauli for all they were worth, the shark plunging wildly in all directions, my host shouting advice and encouragement, and | doing my best in all | this turmoil to keep cool and shoot straight.” Four bullets were required to kill the shark. ng Movies Used as Burglar Alarm. When Mr. and Mrs. Norman Browers, who live near Fanny Bridge, N. J., were at a motion-picture show they saw. on the screen the hastily scribbled words: “Nor- man’ Browers wanted at home at once.” The message was thg first intimation they had that Mrs. Browers’ daughter, Miss Alma Hanna, had been attacked by a bur- glar at their home. Mr, and Mrs. Jo!a Vanderhoof, parents of Mrs. Browers, had sent ithe message. The young girl was found unconscious and bleeding from a wound in, the head. The three were downstairs early in the evening. Miss Hanna was the first to 20 upstairs. Mr. Vanderhoof heard’ her but neither saw NOt heard her assail- ant. Jewelry and about $50 were stolen. Mr. Vanderhoof, who is s nearly 70 years old, ran an eighth of a mile to the nearest telephone, to send the message to Boonton. He told the telephone operator there that the couple were at the theater. The theater manager was inform@d and he gave the message to the operator, who flashed it with the machine. Miss Hanna said she did not see the burglar, and never knew what struck her. English Queen’s Dislike of United States Pre- vents Prince’s Visit. Queen Mary’s dislike for Americans is the reason why the naval training ship Cumberland, with Prince Albert aboard, will not touch at New York or any other American port on the cruise to the West Indies. The Cumberland sailed with the second son of King George among the cadets on her. Originally it was planned for the ship to stop at New York. Rockefeller Gets 500 Begging Letters a Day. A “clearing house” for begging. letters sent to philanthropists would” be one of the adjuncts of the $100,000,000 Rocke-. feller Foundation, a charter for which Con- gress will be asked to grant, according to Jerome D. Greene, former secretary of Harvard Univetsity and now an adviser of the Standard Oil magnate. Mr. Greene ee is seeking to have Congress at this ses- sion incorporate the organization, which_ John D. Rockefeller is anxious to endow. | “Mr. Rockefeller alone receives an aver- age of 500 begging letters every day,” said | Mr. Greene. “They ask financial aid in sums ranging from $5 to amounts in seven figures. Under present conditions it is ut- terly impossible for Mr. Rockefeller, even with the assistance of a large staff, person- ally to give attention to this volume of cor- respondence, and doubtless many worthy © objects of philanthropy have gone without the financial support they sought. Z “However, with the Rockefeller Founda- tion in existence, having an annual income of $5,000,000 and a sufficient corps of trained investigators, it would be possible’ a sg a to handle not alone that part of Mr. feller’s correspondence, but the satne kind of mail reaching other philanthropists as well, with justice and dispatch.” At 130 Leaves Home on a Sight-seeing Tour. The vernacular papers are making con- siderable fame for a woman named Nomi Shimooka, said to be 130 years old, who comes from Yamaguchi prefecture, Japar and is marvelously robust in health. According to her statement, she has no relatives at home, and being desirous of sight-seeing she left her home October 14 and set out on foot for Osaka and Kioto without money. On the way, however, she met several sympathizers who furnished traveling expenses:qvhich enabled her to make a pleasant tou in Osaka and adjoin- ing towns. She subsequently visited the Momoyama Mausoleum, since she cherishes a_ special gratitude toward the throne, which has con- ferred gifts upon her several times on ac- count of her advanced age. Her present expedition to Tokio was chiefly prompted by her desire of seeing the imperial castle, and, if possible, the emperor, to whom she wished to express her condolences in per- son. The old lady is described as an excel- lent conversationalist and a wit, one who bears no impression of her great age. Sev- eral houses have been placed at her disposal by curious sympathizers, and with other notables she is goitf® to honor with a visit Count Okuma, with whom she is expected to exchange views on the subject of lon- gevity. Renounces Title to Become American, 3aron Otto Nichols Robinson von Herr- man, of Russia, has renounced to nobility and allegiance to the czar, in an application to become a citizen of the United States. “My title is baron,” not give two cents for it. can citizenship more.” In Russia his father had large estates. At the elder Herrman’s death the son suc- ceeded to the title and property. he said, “but I would I prize Ameri- Vermont Adopts Electrocution, Only one more legal hanging will be carried out in Vermont if Governor Allen M. Fletcher signs a bill passed by both branches of the legislature. By the provi- sions of this bill, if it is enacted into law, electrocution will displace hanging as the legal form of death in Vetmont. Among, the arguments which were intro- duced to influence the legislature to take this action were the difficulties which at- “tended. the execution half a dozen years ago of Mary Rogers for the murder of her husband, and those which marked the hang- ing of Elroy Kent for the murder of a school-teacher. On the latter occasion, the rope broke and the operation had to be _ gone through twice. Indians Want Lands Held in Trust. Fifteen bronzed leaders from eleven of the nineteen Pueblo tribes, in New Mexico, - some of them gay with varicolored blankets, red and, white moccasins, and big’ silver earrings, presented themselves at the in- terior department, at Washington, to ask ¢ ‘the secretary to keep 600,000 acres of land in trust that it might avoid taxation, As- Rocke- |s:stant Secret his title, NEW TIP TOP: WEEKLY. ary Adams told them it would require congressional action. Acting Commissioner of Indian Affairs Abbott, who also heard their case, said he was in favor of having the government ob- tain entire control of the Pueblos’ rights, but rather than have a divided authority he would favor turning them over entirely to New Mexico. The Indians will appear be- fore the Senate committee on Indian af- fairs to urge including in the Indian ap- propriation a section giving the secretary power to accept the lands in trust. Girl Made Senate Page. Dora Gray, a Salem, Ore., girl, 17 years old, has been appoitted a page in the State Senate. This is the first time in the his- tory of the Oregon legislature, or perhaps any other, that a girl has been commis- sioned as page. s Largest Grain Bin. With the completion of the second unit of the Grand Trunk Pacific grain elevator, at West Fort William, Canada, that city will be able to boast of the largest grain bin in the world. Further additions will be made from+time to time, as Occasion arises, angl a final capacity of no less than 20,- 000,600 bushels is contemplated. Ten ele- vators of similar size would be able to hold the entire harvest of the great Canadian Northwest. Invention that Preserves Taste. If when you were a boy you had a gusto- graph in your home, you could now sit down any time and eat pancakes just ex- actly “like mother used to make.” When you went courting you could, by the same mechanical process, have preserved your sweetheart’s kisses, so that any time mem- ory stirred all you would have to do would be to turn on the switch and taste those fervent salutations all anew Or did you once have a rarely good din- ner with fine wines, and now find yourself reduced to the price of pork and beans? Well, if you had had a gustograph at- tached to your neck at that big dinner, all you would need to do now would be to start the machine going and eat that dinner over again for nothing. What the phonograph did for song and speech George H. Hadley, with this ma- chine he calls the gustograph, says he has done to preserve savory delights, All you need do to make a lasting record of a dinner is to afix a gustronomical trans- mitter to your palate and go ahead. Then if you ever want that dinner again jab the transmitter against your palate and start the machine going, and all the sensations of flavor, taste, and spice will be yours over again. Same way with a “souse.” You could, if you were inclined that way, smile at the law obliterating absinth. The gusto- graph would keep a perfect record for you. _ By the same device, be it understood, one record will serve to give a hundred persons the same sensation, so that for the price of one real meal you may give your friends a banquet. As a by-product of the gustograph Mr. Hadley figures on the dustograph—this with a special eye on small boys. Have the ‘transmitter pinned to the seat of Johnny’s bicomers during one actual basting, and thereafter as occasion requires you will only have to take Johnny to the dustograph }to make him once more repentant and chary of chairs. Admitting that the sense affected is in the main the imagination, the inventor ,of the gustograph says he’s hanged.if he knows whether gustograph meais and drinks will have the same effect on us that the real ones do. But he doesn’t hold out much hope to the gouty that the effects will be different. Unique Senator, Professor William R. Webb, who was elected United States senator by the Ten- nessee legislature a short time ago, succeed- ing the late Robert L. Taylor, is a unique figure in his State, having been a country school-teacher practically since the days of the Civil War. He was born in North Carolina, where he attended the old State university. During the war he served as captain of the Second North: Carolina Cav- alry, and was dangerously wounded at Mal- vern Hill. He is a church member, dis- likes to be called “Professor,” and though he will likely be in the Senate only until March 4, his independent spirit may make him a striking personage in that assem- blage. Awatded Honor Medal. Captain Arthur H., Rostron, who com- manded: the Carpathia at the time of the Titanic disaster, has been awarded the medal of honor by the American Cross of Honor, in recognition of his prompt re- sponse to the call for help. The cross was presented to him in this country on March 1. Captain Rostron is now in command of the steamship Caronia., $250,000 Unclaimed. ‘ More than $250,000 has been left un- claimed by relatives in the cases of persons found dead in New York in the last year. Filled Unique Commission, Simon Harmon Vedder had returned to this country after fulfilling one of the most unique commissions ever given an American artist. He was sent by the British govern- ment in 1909 to paint the portraits of the rajahs of the Rajputana states, it being the desire of the government to present the paintings to the Mayo College, at Ajmer. In all he painted fourteen potentates for this school, journeying about from one court to another. Although a native of New York, the artist has lived in London | for seventeen years. $4,500,000 to Foreign Missions, Robert Arthington, who died recently at Teignmouth, England, left an estate of over $6,000,000, and of this $4,500,000" is to go to the support of foreign missions. is believed to be the largest single bequest ever made to this cause; at all events it must be one of the largest and ranks high among philanthropic gifts even in an un- precedented era like this. Of the money given to this purpose $2,500,000 is to go to the Baptist Missionary Society of Lon- don, and $2,000,000 to the London Mission- ary ‘Society. Liner Poises on Two Waves. For the first time, so far as authentic ob-. servation goes, one of the transatlantic giant liners has been poised on two waves, one under, her bow and another under her | stern, with no water between to support — ‘ : < This viare her frame. Ever since the launching of the _ Mauretania and Lusitania there has been much speculation among marine engineers as to what would happen if this occurred. Many have felt that there was grave danger that, owing to’the great length of the ships and their tremendous weight, they would buekle under the strain. That these fears were groundless was demonstrated in the course of the voyage of the Mauretania from. Liverpool which ended recently in New York 24 hours late, The Mauretania came in with badly bat- tered superstructure, but with every plate and rivet in her hull as firm as when she started, notwithstanding the fact that she had been caught between two mountainous waves and held aloft by the bow and stern, her four propellers racing madly, with _ nothing but the air to offer them resistance. G. B. Hunter, builder of the giant liner, who was a passenger, expressed his sur- prise that so big a vessel could be so tossed about by the waves. “Before that night, the roughest of the passage,” he said, “I would not have be- lieved the ocedn could throw such a ship as the Mauretania about as it did. The seas poured over us and tore loose everything that was not substantially fastened. We were slowed down for thirteen hours, yet even then the ship lunged like a crazy horse.” On the trip a rail was torn from the _ entire forward bulkhead guard, and the steel itself was twisted and bent inward for a length of more than thirty feet. Plate-glass windows half an inch thick were shattered, and the overhang of the bridge was ripped off, exposing the wiring of the signaling apparatus and putting some of the signals out of commission. Mayor Gaynor Has Sweeper Artested. On his way to City Hall from his resi- . dence in Brooklyn, Mayor Gaynor, of New York, passed Abraham Dunbrow sweeping his sidewalk. The dust covered the mayor's - clothes-and made him cough. “Here,” he cried, as he pulled out his watch, “stop that; it’s half past nine.” Dunbrow, who didn’t. recognize the mayor, kept on sweeping, if anything a little more vigorously. Then he had a sur- prise, for the mayor called a policeman and had Dunbrow arrested for violating the or- - dimance against sweeping the walk after 8 a.m. Dunbrow was fined $1. Saved His Money. M. Tokoi, who has just been elected president of the Dict of Finland, was a “miner