Ce ia eee

rank Mecriwell, Junior,

 
 

 

 

 

 
 

 

  

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Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York Post Office according to an act of Congress, March 83,1879. Published by — 4
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FRANK

CHAPTER I.
THE AWKWARD SQUAD.

“’Tention! Right, face! Left, face! Left, face! About,

face! Present, arms! Carry, arms! Order, arms! Pa-
rade, rest! Mr. Kess, what are you trying to do with that
gun?”

“By shinks, vat der gun aie mit me iss more as I know.”
“What's that?”
“Der gun has a clumsiness mit me——
“In official communications you will use the word ‘sir.’
“Sir, oxcoose me, blease. -I vas so goot at forgeddings.
Fi ‘sir, dot I don’d vas aple, sir, to rememper der ‘sirs,’ sir.”
_A titter ran through the two sets of fours which Cadet
_ Corporal Hoover, the yearling drillmaster, was putting
through their paces. The corporal frowned.
' “Silence in the ranks,” he snapped. “Mr. Merriwell, you
_are doing excellently. I suppose your father or your uncle
. has taught you the facings and the manual. We will try
that again, and Mr. Kess, you will please be more care-
ful with your gun.” )

Merriwell was number one in the first set of fours,
Eos was number two, and Kess was number three.
_ Number four was Lttke Bingham. New cadets in the
‘ ‘ i ‘second rank wefe respectively Glover, Barnes, Heming-
7 age way, and Drood.

The corporal looked as though he hafl just stepped out
of a bandbox., His snow-white trousers were creased on a
hair line, his trim blouse was of faultless fit and in fault-
Jess form, and he wore white gloves. But there was some-
thing about Cadet Corporal Hoover which rang a false

) note in Merriwell’s estimation.

; Ever since the drilling had commenced the corporal
| had gone out af ae way to praise Merriwell.

”

”

 

 

 

 

 
  
   

MERRIWELL,

Or, THE JOLLY FIENDS OF FARDALE.

By BURT L.

‘He piled it

  
   
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
   
    
    
   
   
   
   
  
   
   
   
 
    
   
  
  
     
   
  
  
 

JR., PLEBE;

STANDISH.

on thick, and in a voice and manner that left little doubt —
of his insincerity. : ‘
Discipline held Merriwell silent. He could not resent the
petty insolence of his superior without running the danger
of a demerit. Hoover was taking a mean advantage, and
in the meanest kind of way. And Merriwell could only
chafe with resentment and hold his peace.
What was Hoover's object? This was the question that
tan through the young cadet’s mind as he went through
his facings and manipulated his rifle. This was the first
time he had seen Hoover to give him any notice at all,
and the cause of his disagreeable actions was 4 mystery.
Villum Kess was exceedingly awkward with his rifle. In
presenting arms he bumped his own chin with the muzzle
of the piece, and in shouldering he knocked off Clancy’
campaign hat; then, at the order of reverse, he whacked
Bingham on the knee. Finally, at the command of order
he dropped the butt of the gun on Clancy’s toes—and_
Clancy very naturally yelled.
“Kess,” cried the exasperated corporal, eins fis about a:
comfortable in ranks as a bull in a china shop!” :
“Vorse as dot, an answered the genial Villum, ae \
maype I imbrove. =
“You should copy Merriwell—you would all do well to
pattern after Mr. Merriwell. He goes through maneuvers
with a grace and swing’and precision that many an uppe
classman might envy. Keep your eye on him,” 2
Bingham suppressed a titter. The subdued sound was :
echoed from the second set of fours.
Merriwell’s face flamed. He felt, that he was being hal
up to ridicule, and he itched to give the smug corporal
piece of his mind. With a firm will, however, he throttled
the desire. . Ne
“Fours right, march!” ordered the drillmaster.

 

    
  

isk Merriwell began marking time and turning slowly. Bing-
ham swung out of the line and described a quarter of a
¢ Sircle, The only man in the set who did not obey the
_ command properly was the unlucky Villum. Instead of
n novinge off with the set, he calmly exectited a right face.
The result was that Villum found himself in front of the
“second set of fours and behind the first set, which num-
 bered only three.
“Ach, du lieber!” he cried, and tan forward to fill the
_ gap. :

“Dough head!” muttered the corporal;

“Dough headt| yourselluf!” barked Villum.

“Vou will hear from that remark later, Mr. Kess!” said
‘the corporal, with a frown. “Fours left into line, march!”
~The fours wheeled and once more faced Hoover in a
tagged file.
“Right, dress!”
The eight plebes: began shifting into better formation.
“Eyes front!”
Eight pairs of eyes turned from the right to look straight
ahead.
~ “Mr. Merriwell,” said Hoover, “I must leave for a few
- moments. Please drill the Saas until I return.”
uty “Very well, sir,” said Frank, stepping forward and salut-

 
   
    
   
  
  
  
   
   
    
  
  
   
   
 
   
   
   
   
   
  
  
   
     
   
 
   
    
  
  
  
 

He hated being singled out in that manner. It looked,
paleen in conjunction with the left-handed; compliments
Hoover had been dealing out, as though the drillmaster
was beginning to play favorites. To favor one plebe at the
expense of several others was certain to arouse resent-
ment. Frank knew it, and he knew Hoover must have
known it. Was the cadet corporal deliberately trying to
get Frank disliked, by members of his own class?

_ But Merriwell had to obey. It was necessary for him
to make the best of the situation, disagreeable though he
found it,

~The drillmaster crossed the parade ground and vanished
around the corner of the riding hall. Frank, erect and
oldier! ly, faced the seven plebes in front of him.

Clancy’s homely face wore an expression of deep sym-
pathy. The red-headed chap was keen enough to see th at
his chum was being flagrantly imposed upon, and he re-
nted it.

  
   
   
  
    
   
 

ev ma, in the beech set of fours.

Stop. that laughing!” ordered Merriwell. “Left, face!”
ive. turned to the left. Two, grinning insolently, made
move ‘to turn, but stood facing the front. These two
e Bingham and Drood,

cag aes ‘Mr. Bing gham, and ee a !” said

  
  

  

 

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. —

compelling light in them which caused the impudent grin
to fade from Bingham’s face, and he slowly turned to the
left. Drood alone remained facing forward.

Drood was a product of the West. As yet, Merriwell
knew little about him save that, like Bingham, he was dis-
posed to be “scrappy” on the slightest occasion.

“Do you intend to execute that order, Mr. Drood?” asked
Frank, his voice low but determined.

6X7
I’m not knuckling down to you,
even if you are a Merriwell.”

“T was told to drill this squad,” went on Frank, “and
it’s a job I dislike, but could not avoid. If I failed to
obey I should be reported.”

“I suppose you'll report me, eh?” sneered Drood,

“T’ll not report you, Drood, but you're going to obey
orders.”

“Who says so?”

Frank handed his gun to Clancy and stepped resolutely in
front of Drood.

“T say so!” he answered, a bit of white running into his
face. “Execute that order!”

With an ugly gleam in his eyes, Drood planted him-
self firmly. Quick as a’ wink Merriwell seized him by
the shoulders and flung him into the required position.
It all happened so suddenly that Drood must have been
astounded. As soon as he recovered his wits he muttered,
loud enough for all the rest to hear:

“Because you're a pet at this school you can’t lord it
over me! I'll get even.

There might have been open. mutiny on the part i
Drood, and perhaps a fight, had not Hoover been seen
returning across the parade ground. He came slowly,
watching Merriwell and the others with sharp eyes.

“Lett, fope tl” ordered Frank, after taking his gun | Aron
Clancy, -“About, face!’

His commands were executed promptly, neither Bing-

any of the rest of us.

ham nor Drood choosing to rebel with the cadet corporal i

so near at hand.
“That will do, Merriwell,’ ‘said Hoover, and Frank

thought he saw ‘an exultant gleam across his face. “Take

your place in the ranks.” 2 spe

Frank saluted and stepped back into his position: The ;
drilling proceeded without further incident of a disagree~ 4
able nature until the plebes were tmarched back to quar- fe

ters and told to break ranks.
Merriwell and Clancy roomed together.

door was closed. \

“What's the matter with that dub, Chip?” he demanded. M

“Which dub, Clan?”
“Hoover. He showed all through drill that he had it a,
for you.
make a monkey out of i.
to this than we imagine.”
“So am I,” answered Frank.
That evening in the mess hall the cadet adjutant read
the delinquency list.
Merriwell._—Overbearing conduct when left eihineainae
in charge of plebe squad by Cadet Corporal Hoover.
Kess.—Carelessness and insubordinate conduct i in ranks
at sare drill.

 

You're only a plebe,” was the reply, “and no better than

nape Se a eee

Hurrying ee
their room, Clancy turned on his chum as soon as the ty

I’m glad as blazes that you didn’t let Drood
But I’m afraid there’s more

 

“Let’s see what happens.” ~~

   
  
      
     
    

 
   

 

oe

   

—,

S

i

aa

 

 

— E
   

fy, little allowance should have been made in his case.
\| far as Merriwell was concerned, however, the report was
Bee rank injustice. Not he, but Drood, should have been on
that delinquency list.
Directly after supper, Merriwell and Kess were made to
walk post in the upper hall of plebe barracks until tat-
FS. TOO.

CHAPTER II.

THE PLOTTERS.

A muffled rap fell on the door of the room. occupied
by Jed Hoover and “Pink” Edwards.

“Oh, come in,’ called Pink. “Don’t be so darned
formal.”

Wally Teneyck and Joe Gordon, both in their last year
at Fardale, opened the door swiftly and -noiselessly and
slipped into the room. The yearlings jumped to their
feet.

“Now who’s formal?” said Teneyck. “We’re here for
a heart-to-heart chin and have got to cut it short.”
“Thou speakest truly,” remarked Gordon. “Methinks I
should be boning lest I fess out cold in some of the grind
to-morrow—aye, boning my blamedest instead of hobnob-
bing with a pair of yearlings. Proceed in the matter that
‘brings us here, Ten, so we can have it over with and
_hike.”, '
There were but two chairs in the room.
visitors coolly appropriated.
“Hoover,” went on Teneyck, “you're a great strategist.
' The way you got Merriwell skinned this afternoon proves
that you’re a wonder.”
Hoover looked at Teneyck sharply, and a little sus-
piciously.
. “TI had to report him,” he answered. “I left him in
charge of the squad, for a few minutes, and he exceeded
Q his authority.” ;

Teneyck chuckled.

“TT saw it all from the windows of the gym,” said he,
“and I’ve heard a lot more from others who were closer
ie “to the scene than I was. Every time the son of his dad
turned around you handed him a compliment. After you
Vihad slopped over with praise until the plebes were all on
edge, you pulled off that master stroke of leaving Merri-
well in charge, while you absented yourself. Of course
the inevitable happened. Some of the squad refused to
: obey. Merriwell’s orders, and it was up to him to crawfish
ae or use force. You're in a fair way, Hoover, to make
- Merriwell the most hated chap in his class.”

ney

These the

 

 

 

was approving or\ disapproving. What was he trying. to
get at, anyhow ?”

“Don’t be in a taking,” proceeded tense: with a grin.
I didn’t come here to find fault with you, but to pat you
on the back. Chip Merriwell is trying to surge through this
nstitution on a family tidal wave. His father was the
vonder,’ and his uncle was the ‘marvel’ of Fardale. You
get all that batted up to you half a dozen times a day.
‘It’s enough to make a fellow sick. Suppose the first
two Merriwells did make a record here? Is that any rea-
a ‘son we should have ’em poked in our faces every time we
n around? Now along comes the son of his dad, just
keep the pot boiling, and is trying his best to be wonder
he number. three. Wouldn’t that make you tired?”

 

    
 
  
   
 
 
 
 

  

 

= cs

  

  

 

NEW TIE TOP WEEKLY, 4 0 0S ye

So

Hoover reddened. He could not tell’ whether Teneyck

me wrong as well as Merry. I hate a chap who can’t stand.

  

  
   
   
   
  
   
  
  
    
  
   
  
   
  
  
   
    
   
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
    
   
  
  
 
   
     
  
  
    
   
   
  
 
   
     
  
   
 
 
  
  
   
   
   
   

“It would make any one tired,” growled Pink Edwards.

“Hoover,” continued Teneyck, “this is your second year —
on the scrub eleven. You have been trying to make the
regular/ team. A year ago, in the game with Franklin,
you were sent in during the last five minutes of play as a _
substitute for Boyle, who had sprained his ankle. Your
brilliant work couldn’t save the day, but it kept down the
score against Fardale. -You’re entitled to a place on the
regular squad. Do you think for a minute that you’ll be —
favored at the expense of Chip Merriwell?”

Hoover scowled. Cunningly Teneyck had flicked him on i
the raw. It was thé rumor flying through the school that.
Presbery, captain of the regular ‘team, and Dowd, the —
coach, were considering Merriwell for the academy eleven’
that had aroused Hoover’s hostility. :

Why should an untried plebe even be thought of for
such an honor when there were upper classmen who had
distinguished themselves by working hard on the scrub?
The bare rumor had so incensed Hoover that he had begun
his petty tactics of annoyance against Merriwell.

“Presbery,” pursued Teneyck, noting with satisfaction —
the effect of his words on Hoover, “frankly says he is a
hero worshiper, and that he knows Chip Merriwell must
be all kinds of an amateur star just because of the way
his father and his uncle distinguished themselves. Which
is all bally rot. Young Merriwell is floating around on
the reputation of the family, and there’s nothing to him.”

“I wouldn’t hand that-out too strong, Ten,’ protested
Gordon. ‘“Merriwell licked Bingham, didn’t he?”

“What does that amount to?” asked Teneyck, with curl-
ing lip. “Bing’s a plebe, same as Merriwell. And, any-
how, Merriwell knocked him out by a fluke.”

“Bing claimed to be some punkins with his fists.” ;

“He-wasn’t in the best form when he met Merriwell,
Wait till the son of his dad bumps up against Terry
Hampton! Why, he won’t last long enough to know he’s”
been scrapping. Personally, I think young Merriwell is a_
cheap skate, and that he can be scared so badly he'll cut
the school and run for home.”

Perhaps Teneyck meant that, and perhaps he didn’t.
Very likely the supposed conviction merely expressed his
hopes, and was used for the purpose of nagging Hoover on.

“Chip Merriwell’s an upstart,” declared Hoover, “and
I like his nerve—butting in here and grabbing’ football —
honors that belong by rights to some of the other fellows.
I'd like to see him so confounded unpopular that he Se
wouldn't stand the ghost of a show at anything.”

said Ten-—
“and the thing to do is to follow up a good be-

“You ve begun well to make him unpopular,”
eyck,
ginning.”

“How? >? :

“Why, by making the school so hot for him he can’t :
stay here.”

“A big order, Ten,” put in Gordon. “It’s my notion
you've got Chip Merriwell wrong. I think you'll find
that the gre you hammer him the more he'll bob up
and hang on.” ha \

“You a hero worshiper, too?” seal Tea a

“Softly, softly, old man. You're in danger of gétting

ae

   
  

 
   

on his own feet, but skulks around behind the reputation
of the family. If Merriwell’s ‘that sort, then the ‘quicker,
he’s mustered out of this institution. he better. ‘But if

   
     

  

  
     

NEW TIP
he proves he’s the right sort, then we ought to put up with
him.”

“He'll not prove to be the rig
the test,”

“What's the test?” inquired Edwards.

“None of the upper classmen have yet put any of the

7

rht sort. He'll not stand

plebes through a course of sprouts. It’s about time the
hazing began.”
.. Hoover caught the point and a look of satisfaction over-
spread his face.

“That’s so,” he returned. “The time-honored custom
must not be neglected. The Jolly Fiends of Fardale must
get on the job.”

“Exactly! And the Jolly Fiends must mix a particu-
larly hot bunch of tricks for Merriwell.. Scare him stiff!
_ The Fiends can do it if they go about it right. By,Jove,

they could run him out of Fardale!”

This. far-fetched conclusion was greatly relished, by
Hoover and Edwards. Hoover had a reason—a fanciful
one, to be sure—for disliking Merriwell. But Edwards’
only reason lay in the fact that he was a*friend of Hoover,
and toadied to him because he had always plenty of money
and was ready to give or to lend.

By nature, Wally Teneyck was headstrong and arro-
gant. It pained him to hear so many stories about the
Merriwells and their doings, and he was angered because,
being a Merriwell, Chip was likely to float into popularity
with the whole school. The time to clip young Merri-
-well’s wings was right at the ‘beginning of his career as a
plebe.

“What have the Jolly Fiends got that will fill the bill for

_Merriwell, Teneyck?” queried Hoover thoughtfully. “None
* of the old stunts are hot enough. We ought to dish him
‘up ‘a little lightning and blue fire.”
; “You can’t single him out of all the plebes for your
delicate attentions,” put in Gordon. “That would hardly
be square. A few more ought to go through the mill
with him.”

“How about his red- headed roommate?” suggested Ten-
one
“Fell do,” agreed Hoover. “Who else?”

“Take Bingham,” said Gordon.

- This idea did not appeal to Ten. Bingham was a friend
- of his, although the gulf separating a plebe from an upper
_¢lassman could not be openly bridged,

 
 
  
 

“Tf you take Bing you’ve got to take Drood, who rooms
with him,” demurred Teneyck. “Don’t pile it onto Bing
and Drood. They'll help make things uncomfortable for
-Merriwell among the plebes.’

“T don’t see why the Fiends should let hs two out.
They need a little heroic treatment, and ought to “have it.
Just because Bing is a friend of yours, ‘Ten, I don’t——”
“Oh, well, hang it, take ’em!” cut in Teneyck.

 
 
 
  

   

  

how,” remarked Hoover. “Merriwell cowed him at drill,
All he had to do was ta look at Bing, and he went through
‘the facings as nice as you please. What sort of a hold
has Merriwell got on Bingham?”

A puzzled frown came to Teneyck’s brow.
“Give it up,” said he. ;

| i guess that licking gave Bingham a healthy respect
for. Merriwell,” ‘observed Hoover.

 
 
 
 

  

 
  
 

”

x Don’ t make any wild guesses,” snapped Teneyck. | “I

TOP

“Bing strikes me as being a pretty weak sister, any-'
g ’ vi

    
   
    
    
  
  
    
   
   
  
  
  
    
  
 
 
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 

W EE zKLY.

 

happen to know that Bing hates the son of his dad like
poison.” .

“He has a poor way of showing it.” . a

“Tt will crop out one of these days. Bing’s playing a es) |
waiting game.”

Gordon got up and started for the door.

“I’m for quarters,” he announced. “I’ve got to crowd
two hours’ boning into the sixty minutes left before tats ¢ ee teak
too. If you’ve got your plot rounded out, Ten, let’s mosey.”

“Wait a minute, Gordon. You understand the sea hia
Hoover?”

“T understand the Fiends are to jump in and pull off a
few stunts,” was the answer, “but I haven’t the first notion
what the stunts are to be.’

“T’ll tip off something to you just as soon as my wits
can get in a few licks. Whatever it is, Hoover, I can
promise you it will put qualms and tremors into every ,
plebe that takes the medicine. They’ll all need restora-
tives before the Jolly Fiends are through with them.”

“We'll have a bucket of cold water handy,” chuckled
Edwards. a

“When is the racket due to come off?” queried Hoover
anxiously. hye ee,

“Tust''as soon as I can dig up the proper caper. Maybe
it will come to me to-night. You can’t tell about these
happy ideas, Hoover. Sometimes you'll spend days trying
to hit on the right sort of a stunt, and then again it will | A
come to you in a flash, when your mind is running on some- — ;
thing else. You may hear from me in the morning, and
maybe not till next week. But keep your shirt on, for when ee
I tell you something to put over it will be a winner.” — E

“If it’s anything complicated we'll need a little time
to get ready.” i

“There'll be lots of time. If we do this thing at al io) ae
Hoover, we’ve got to do it right.”

Teneyck and Gordon left the two yearlings to them-
selves, passed quietly out into the hall, and so back to their /
own room, They ‘had sown seed destined to bear fruit~al- _
though not exactly the sort of fruit they imagined.

 

 

 

 
   
       
     
    

CHAPTER III.

AN APPROACHING CRISIS.

     

  
   
 

 
 
 

Merriwell had plenty of time for reflection as he walked
post in'the upper hall. It is needless to say that his reflec-

 
   
    

tions were far from, pleasant.
aeipte coming to F ae he had looked ahead and ies ia

 
    
     

  

  
   

with. The eave record ‘ait his father had sree at
‘the school had not smoothed the way for his Uncle Dick
in the same institution. p

There had been those who sneered at Dick Merriwell aid
made ugly remarks about his trying to win favor ori the |
score of being Frank’s half brother. It was a base se ;
of course, ie oe sei eyed, pe ic i e West

         
  
 
 
     
       
   
  

   
 
 
   
   
   

‘man at aginie He hé ‘eft tie shel for Vale,
All this was known to young Frank, and it was so «

      
  
     

    
 

  

pany him. He wished to meet his difficulties single-handed,
and single-handed he wanted to begin.

For a fellow Merriwell
is always envy and jealousy, and even downright malice,
to be contended with. No matter how honorably he
himself, nor how much above reproach all his actions might
be, he was- destined to be the target of criticism. If his
merit and ability carried him to high places, there would
always be some to cry that he

-<was overrated; while if he made mistakes, as’ he was occa-
sionally bound to do, the same fellows would single them
out and assert that they proved poor mettle in the young-
est of the Merriwells.

There is no place in the w or id like a good military school
for placing the students om an equality, no place where
intrinsic worth and individual excellence are developed
with better effect; yet, even there, human nature has its

way just as in every other school. But in the end the
fellow who fights his own way, without fear or
favor, is bound to reach the top.

Merriwell had firmly determined to fight his own way.
To meet opposition as it showed itself, to hold his temper
in check, and to make of himself in his day what his
uncle and his father had made of themselves in theirs.
He was finding it a hard task.

While he was yet on the ‘train en route to Fardale,
Bingham, nagged on by Teneyck, had attempted to pick a
quarrel with Frank. Later, during the examinations, un-
derhand work on the part of Bingham had/almost con-

wicted Frank of cheating, as contemptible as it was dis-
honorable.

Bingham had been dismissed from several schools for
misconduct Fardale. Among those
where his wild lawlessness had made him impossible was
Frank Merriwell’s School of Athletic Development, known
as Farnham Hall. By advice of the senior Merriwell,

' Bingham’s parents, as a last resort, had sent the youth

- to Fardale; and when Luke Bingham came to Fardale, he

 prought with him a bitter but fancied grievance against

Sy," Frank’s father, and had immediately started to settle the

score with Frank.

Merty, accepting Bingham’s challenge to fight,

_ thrashed the fellow soundly; and as an indirect result of

that figlit he'had discovered indisputable evidence which

‘convicted Bingham of having tried to involve Frank in

‘the mean work of cheating in order to pass an examination.

young situated as was, there

carried

“favoritism” and declare

gamely

 

before coming to

 

 
 

_ Bingham’s fate, because of this discovery, lay in Merri-
well’s hands.’ A word to Colonel Gunn would have tfe-
sulted in the expulsion of Bingham forthwith.

quested Merry to do what he could for Bingham; to stand
by him im every way possible, and help him to make the
‘most of his last chance. So Merry had shielded the fellow.
‘This was why, at afternoon. drill,
cowed into obeying Merriwell’s . orders,
fear was that Merry might use against him the knowledge
of his vile treachery during the examinations.

But, for all that, Teneyck was correct in telling Hoover

 
  

tated a moment,
_ The point that troubled Merry, while

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

had’ had an idea of what 1 might have to buck up against

_A letter from Merry’s father, arriving at that time, re

Bingham had been~
His constant .

‘while the trouble pot is beginning to. boil.

  

    
  
  
   
   
  
   
   
  
    
  
   
  
   
   
    
   
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
   

of Hoover.
Not only
were certain members of his own class being set against

was the petty tyranny
Merry’s troubles seemed to be reaching a crisis.

post that evening,

him, but the yearlings were showing a disposition to be
hostile. Where would that growing animosity end?

At tattoo Frank-was relieved fromm duty, and with a
somber and troubled face he went to his room, placed his —
gun in the rack beside Owen's, and dropped moodily into
a chair. 5

Clancy had made down his own bed and was busily mak-
ing down Merry’s. Clancy was room orderly for the week,
as the printed card upon the wall between the two sleep-
ing alcoves informed the inspector, and it was his duty to
see that everything was shipshape in those particular quar-
ters. '

“You needn’t have gone. to that trouble, old man,”
Frank. ;

“You've had it rubbed into you pretty hard this afternoon, —
Chip,” was the sympathetic response, “and I want to make
things as easy for you as possible. You’d do the same for
me if I’d been walking my legs off on post. What's biting
Hoover, anyhow?”

“That’s a conundrum.
hectoring—that’s what gets me.
cut by the whole class.” Tans

“If that’s the case, he’ll have the time of his life and
his work won’t get him anywhere. What Hoover’s doing
will get out, and there'll be a lot of the upper classmen
who won’t stand for it. Take it from me, Chip, you'll win
more friends than you lose by Hoover’s dirty work.”

“I don’t know about that. Hoover’s my superior. He
can talk and I can’t say a word. He'll air his side of
everything and give me the worst of it.”

“Lew Presbery is your friend, and he cuts more ice with
the Fardale fellows than a dozen Hoovers and Teneycks, ;
Presbery will see that you get a square deal.” Fer ote.

“That’s the deuce of it!” growled Merry. “Every time
Presbery makes a move for me, everybody will be saying _
he’s making me a pet on account! of dad and Unele Dick.
Oh, blazes! It would be better if Presbery kept out of
it. Ill toddle along somehow and hoe my own row. I

said

He was so darned mean with his ~
He’s working to get me

 

         
      
       
       
    

here, and'I guess I can stand it. \ But ‘everybody babar butts
in and tries to help me will only make things worse.” _
“There’s one thing you can do.”
“What's that?”
“Lick ‘Hoover.

      
    
 

 
 

Give him a dose’ of the same medicine
you gave Bingham. That will show him where he gets off.
“It won't do,” answéred Merry thoughtfully, “not just
now, at all events. I’ve got to let things drift for a -
while and make the best of them.” Re
“While things drift,” protested Clancy, “they’re getting’
worse and worse all the time. Can’t you see what’s going
on, Chip? There are a few in this school who are trying
to skin you cold and get you expelled.’ They’ll not win |
out, but by thunder they'll make you mighty uncomfort-
able. My advice is for you to get in a few good licks .
Call out —
Hoover; after that, hammer a little sense into’ Drood.
Then, if any others bob up and get ugly, take ’em one at
a Cone: e
“And get
tered ere.
“Your Uncle Dick didn’t have much luck getting altead :

      
 
 

 
 

    

  

    

  

 
   
       
     
       
     
     
      
 
      
 
 
      
       
   
    

a reputation here of being a bruiser!” mut-

      
   
  

until he polished off three upper classmen, hand running,
over there in Chadwick’s pasture.”

“Sure, but that fracas was forced on Uncle Dick. He
didn’t set off the fireworks. I’ll just lie low and wait until
something is forced on me.”

Taps sounded just then and Clancy put out the light and
he and Merry. rolled into their blankets. Cadet Corporal
Billings was the subdivision inspector. He jumped into the
room presently and flashed his electric flash light into the
‘alcoves.

“All in, sir,” announced Clancy.

Billings stood in the middle of the room for a mo-
ment, then stepped to Merry’s bedside.

_ “Mr. Merriwell,” he observed, in a low tone, “Mr. Pres-

bery says for you to keep a stiff upper lip and never
to mind the little things that go wrong. There are bigger
things at Fardale than being reported for overbearing
conduct at drill, especially when nearly everybody knows
- you were ‘skinned.’ Wait for the big things, Mr. Merri-
_ well, and let the little ones go hang.”

This was almost unheard of—an inspector going out of
his way to carry words of comfort to a plebe! It proved,
for one thing, that Merriwell had friends, in spite of the
mean advantage taken of him by Hoover.

“Thank you, sir,” said Merry, and the words were a bit
unsteady.

The inspector withdrew briskly and closed the door.

_ “What did I tell you, old socks?” chuckled Clancy, from
_the other side of the partition.

Reveille at five-thirty next morning brought every student

in barracks out of bed at a jump. Merriwell had slept
~ soundly, and he was feeling vastly more comfortable in
mind than he had felt the evening before. Just how much
the cadet corporal’s message from Presbery had to do
with this, is problematical. That it had a bearing on the
situation there is no doubt. .
. When the assembly sounded for breakfast formation,
Merriwell and Clancy hurried downstairs and took their
place in the ranks. The roll was called, all were ac-
counted for, and the division marched to the mess hall.

Merriwell was “gunner” at his table; that is, he sat at
_ the head, and when there was soup to be served he did the

‘serving. Even this small mark of favor had caused, some

 
 

 
 
 

On Merry’s right was Clancy, and on his left was Villum
Kess.. Drood was at the/other end of the table, with
Bingham close by. Drood and Merry’ crossed glances sev-
ral times, and the former’s expression left no doubt of
is unfriendliness. Merriwell smiled’ grimly, but was
otherwise perfectly serene in the face of the plebe’s en-
mity.

At another table, but well within Merry’s range of
vision, sat Hoover. The yearling drillmaster smiled when-
ever his eyes happened to meet Merry’s—but it was a smile
that carried a trace of venom.

_ “Candidates for the football elevefs,” Presbery an-
nounced, when the megl was finished, “will report on the
fi athletic field immediately after three-o’clock\ inspection.
‘Come in your football togs, ready for a little work.”

_ Merriwell caught a look of Hoover’s just then, which
was something of an eye opener. Like a flash the plebe
understood the cause of the yearling’s hostility.

“Well, I'll be hanged!” Frank thought. “I must be get-
ting thick not to have thought of that before. ‘Hoover’s

 
 

 
 

  

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY,

  
  
   
    
  
  
   
    
    
 
  
    
     
  
 

out for the regular team and he’s afraid I’ll butt in and
spoil his plans.”
And the plebe chuckled at what he believed to be the °

yearling’s folly. ;

CHAPTER IV.
A CASE OF SOUR GRAPES. \

Fifteen minutes after inspection, Merriwell and Clancy,
in their football togs, left the barracks and started hur-
riedly in the direction of the athletic field. oan | 7 Ale

“I've figured it out regarding Hoover, Clan,” said — oe ’
Merry.

“You're a wonder if you have,
the trouble?”

“T’ve got it straight that he wants to make the academy
eleven. He fought hard for it on the scrub last year, and
did some good work. He’s foolish enough to think that
Presbery will favor me at his expense.”

“Presbery couldn’t do better, Chip,” returned Owen, with
enthusiasm. | ; a aes

“Rot! I don’t want to push in ahead of a yearling and
a better man.”

“Tt’s ndt a question of what you want, old chum, but of
material for a winning team. There are a few gaps in the ©
regular team that have got to be filled. I guess Presbery ,
will waste darn little sentiment when it comes to pickiaut!
the best men. Plebe or upper classman, the fellow that
has the goods will be called on to deliver them. And I |
know a few things about you!” a

“You're prejudiced, Red,” and Merriwell smiled. “For
the love of Mike, keep what you think you know to your-
self.” :

There were about twenty plebes and upper classmen
assembled fe Wee their football worth. The old and/
tried holdovers from last year’s squad were grouped a little
apart. Under the eyes of Dowd, the coach, and of Pres-
bery,\ the captain, those left of the old regulars were tack-
ling the dummy, falling on the ball, and practicing quick —
ten and fifteen-yard starts.

The sight of the old men at ae work sent the hot.
blood pulsing more swiftly through Merriwell’s veins. He
was like a war horse, scenting the battle and chafing to
get into it. His face flushed, his eyes brightened, and he
could hardly restrain himself from rushing in among those
veterans of the grid and trying a few stunts himself. elisa

“Ach, Chip, vat a habbiness to be vere der shports iss
going on, yas. By Shiminy Grismus, how I vas itching all
ofer to get at der pigskin!” :

That was Villum, arrayed in a dilapidated football cos-'
tume. He was out with the rest to show his fitness.

“Great, eh, Villum?” returned Merriwell, with a happy
laugh.

“Der greadest ting vat I know, und don’d you peliek
me! I hope like nodding I get me on der scrub !”

“You'll do that, with ground to spare.” :
“Und you vill make der rekulars! Dot vill tickie me Se
boots oudt.” + ;

“Guess again, Dutch!” ‘a

Hoover was the speaker. A grin played about the lips
that framed the words, but could not hide the ugly feeling
back of them. ky

“I don’d make some guesses, by shinks! I know vat I
know, und dot’s all aboudt it.” f eo.

“What sac

’ was the answer.

 

    
     
     
      
       
       
   
     
         
     
     
         
     
     
 

       
     
         
      
     
     
         
       
     
     
       
      
 

       
     
        
 

     

     
NEW TIP

 

Hoover turned away without saying anything else, but
Bingham, and Drood, who out to make one
of the’elevens, laughed jeeringly.

“The idea of a plebe being jumped over the head of a
yearling!” muttered Drood, with a savage glance at Mer-
riwell.

Clancy began to bristle, but Merriwell took his arm and

were also

led him away.

_ “Somebody’s head ought to be punched, Chip!”
Owen.

Bere TE that’s so,”
who ought to do it—and that somebody isn’t you, old man.”

Dowd and Presbery came walking toward the candidates
for football honors. The old second-string men claimed
little of their attention, for past performances had shown
coach and captain what they could do.

Dowd was a little, peppery, gray-eyed man who seemed
to take a_ fellow’s a flash.
. every inch the capable warrior,
Merriwell.

“Here’s a fellow that demands particular attention.”
~ gaid he, talking to the coach and sm iling at Merriwell.
~ “He comes of winning stock. Mr. Merriwell, Mr. Dowd.”
_ The coach grunted as his eyes ran swiftly over the superb
physique of the youth before Lim. What that grunt meant
would have defied any one to guess.

He asked Merriwell’s weight and height.
“Winning stock

_griimbled. “Ever played the game, Merriwell?”

“A little, sir,” was the difident response.
' “Oh, me, oh, my!” Jaughed Clancy. “You've played it
a lot, and you know it.”
_ Merry flushed and the coach frowned at Clancy.
“Tackle that dummy, Merriwell”’ ordered the

-- briskly.

The dummy was a very good imitation of a human fig-
ure, and was strung on a wire stretched between two poles.
_/It was so arranged that a perfect tackle released a spring
and brought it to earth.

_ Merty went at the tackle with impetuosity, yet in spite
of his vim and vigor he snapped it down in a flash.

“Now,” said the imperturbable Dowd, “tackle from the
left, Merriwell.”

Merry went at the dummy from the other side.
tackle was hard and perfect, and in a flash the
was on the ground again.

growled

was the cool response, “I know somebody

sizing in Presbery, looking

led the coach ‘direct to

   

doesn’t necessarily make, a winner,“ he

coach

The
figure

No word of censure or commendation escaped the coach.
A smile of satisfaction, however, wreathed about Pres-
bery’s lips.

”

“You next, Hoover,” called Dowd. “From the right,

if you please.”

_ The yearling executed a whirlwind rush, and the dummy
_ dropped as quickly as it had for the piebe.

_ “Now from the other side,” ordered the coach.

Tackling from the left, Hoover failed to bring the figure
‘to earth. His face flamed with mortification. He realized
‘that he was being tested out against Presbery’s “pet,” and
that he had lost ground.

Without waiting for instructions from Dowd, Hoover
flung himself at it again. This time the figure fell from
_ the wire, but slowly.

_Dowd grunted again, manifesting neither approval nor
- disapproval.

“TOP WEERLY.

    
    
  
   
    
   
  
  
   
  
   
   
   
     
     
  
    
   
   

   

Merriwell,” he snapped, “how should. guards, tackles,

and centers nail a runnér?”
“Below the knees, sir.”
“And a back?” aoe
“Above, sir.”

and Dowd turned to the captain,

“Presbery,” “while I’m

 

 

busy with the other candidates, see how Merriwell and

Hoover fall on the ball - a
“Y went through all this last year,’ Mr. Dowd,” spoke ‘ SS

up Hoover, a little resentfully ; “I-——’
“Last year is not this year, Hoover. What did Franklin.

do to us last October?”
He turned on his heel,
chuckle from Presbery.
“This, way, fellows,”
a little apart.
for several yards.

and Merry fancied he heard a
said the captain, and’ led the two
He put down the ball and backed away
“Now, Hoover,” he called.

Hoover went down, only to find the ball already cov-
ered by Presbery.

A snarl came from Dowd, who was dividing his attention
between the tacklers and those who were practicing fall-
ing on the bail.

“Your. old fault, Hoover—you were too high.
closer to the ground. A Franklin: man
under you and the ball first.
show improvement over last year. "Remember that.
are you kicking that dummy, Kess?”’

Keep
could have got
We've all got to
Why
shifting

got on

he went on,

 

     

his gray eyes back to the tacklers.

      

“He don’d come down mit der handts,” explained Villum, —
“so I kick him down mit der feets.”

“Oh, is that it? I thought you were trying to get up
and do a slack-wire act.”

There was a laugh from the tacklers, in which Pres-
bery and Merriwell joined. But no laugh came from
Hoover. Even his hypocritical smile failed him. A slow
rage was gnawing in his breast. The only time Dowd had
spoken with approval or disapproval had been to him—
and the words had carried a sting.

He believed that he was engaged in a sort of duel with
Merriwell, a duel for supremacy; and hé -felt that both
the coach and ‘the captain were favoring Merriwell at his
expense!

“Go to it, Merriwell!
after placing the ball.

Merry went at the pigskin in masterly fashion. It was.
a sort of sliding fall, executed with wonderful quickness —
and precision. He was close to the earth, his knee dou- i
bled, and he fq] without danger to his shoulders, and not
so flat as to knock the wind out of his body. His arms
and hands pulled the ball smartly into the hollow between
his chest and thighs, and he had it quickly and securely—_
and before the alert Presbery could cover it. 7

Hoover, recognizing a perfect performance, flashed a
look of anger and mortification in the direction of the.
coach. He saw that Dowd, for the moment, was watch- |
ing Merriwell. —

Clancy and Kess, also, standing by and watching the
other candidates juggle with the dummy, had found time
to keep an eye on Chip and the yearling drillmaster.

“Ach, vat a peautiful coverings Chip makes
pall!” murmured Kess.

“Did you expect anything else of our old chum, the cap-
tain of Mérriwell’s Athletes, Villum?” said the red-headed _
chap, in a matter-of-course tone. “I guess he’ll show ’em _

  

    
     

 

      
           
     
       
     
     
 

1?

called Presbery,

   

stepping back

    
  

  

      
  

 
 
 

 

    
  
 

    
   
   
   
   
        
   

  

      
 
      
   
   
   

mit der

   

     
   
       
“of it;

plebe to lead the second team was a distinct honor.

‘The gaps in the regular ranks were temporarily filled

‘upper classmen—those who had served on the second

even the year before. For some reason or other, Hoover
was not one of them. He was left to play with the scrub,
under captainship of the hated Merriwell.

The yearling’s cup ofs bitterness was full and running
over. Sullenly he started for the gymnasium as soon as
the squad was dismissed from the field.

“Sore, eh?”

Riccver looked up. Teneyck was walking along at his
side,

“It’s rotten the way they jumped on me this atternaon?

; Taeited the yearling.
football business and let the whole push get along without

_ me.

“For a copper cent, I’d cut out this

Neither Dowd nor Presbery. appreciates a worker.
But to think of being double crossed for that—that plebe!”

“It was pretty raw,” said Teneyck. “I saw a good deal
Merriwell’s head will swell a little more, I guess.”
» Hoover muttered angrily.

“Never mind,” went on Teneyck, “you can get even with

_ of the railroad track, in the bushes.
ing pavilion down by the Cove

along with a whistle that gives the slickest imitation of

afternoon.

bed you,’

ond

‘the son of his dad to-night.”

The other looked up quickly. ©

“Everything fixed?” he asked,
— “Cinched. There’s an old hand car just around the bend
What’s more, I picked
up an old locomotive headlight that was used in the dane-
That’s in the bushes, too,

the Teal thing, Hoover, that you ever heard.”
“Good!” arid Hoover brightened for the first time that
“We'll throw a ee that dub that he
b

won't get over in a month of blue moons, Trust the

Jolly Fiends for that.”

Frank, Owen, and Villum were trailing along just a little

way behind Hoover and Teneyck.

“Hoover didn’t enjoy the football practice a whole lot,

hip,” Clancy chuckled.

“Dot vas tifferent from vat it vas yestertay at drill, I
’ snickered Kess. .

“He was trying to cut up rough with me,” said Merriwell,
“and I had a license to give him as good as he sent. A
p lebe hasn’t many chances to stand up to an upper class-
man, like that, so I had to make the most of my Epect
tunity.”

I don’t believe Hoover will be wild

“You did well.

to fight you, after the sample you handed him to-day.”

“Well,” “it was rather tough on the
yearling.”

“Tough on him?” echoed Owen. “How?”

“Why, this is his second year of football at Fardale. He
worked hard and well last year, and, naturally, had a
right to expect something at the hands of the captain
and the coach. Why wasn’t he advanced to the regular
team?”

“How could he be advanced,
made?”

“Oh, well, he was. rusty.

murmured Frank,

after the showing he

Everybody’s rusty at the be-

ginning of the football season.”

“Not much rust on you, Chip.”

“We've been in training all summer. I ought to have

a made a yee olelas: Tf Rosver wasn’t given a

at the first eleven, then he could have been put in to Tea
the second team.”

“Bosh! Dowd and Preabely) ou their business. 17
also know more about Hoover than any of us plebes. — Yo
can trust them to do the right thing.”

“I hope they’re making no mistake. You can imagine
though, how Hoover feels to havea das bossing him o
the grid.” é

“Treat him as he treats you at drill,” ‘suggested Owen
“Give him a little of his own medicine.”

. “I shall probably put him in at quarter-——”

'“You'll never!” gasped the red-headed chap.

“T don’t know. It’s something I’ll have to think over.”

“If you do that he'll think you’re trying to curry favor
with him, Chip,” said Clancy earnestly. “For the lov
of Pete, don’t let him get that notion in his headpiece! .
Look at him, ahead there! He’s with Teneyck and they’re
as thick as thieves. Something’s brewing, take it
from me.” ; \

“Yah, so,” seconded Kess. “Dot Deneyck feller I like
most so goot as Hoofer. Hoofer called me a dough headt, —
und yen I go pack at Him mit it, he makes some TERE
und I valk post ondil my legs ache.” ss

After a shower and a brisk rubdown in the gym baths:
rooms, Merry and his two friends returned to barracks and
fell into ranks for retreat roll call. It was getting dark
when the plebes marched back to barracks from the mess
hall. ia

“Something’s in the wind, Chip,”
Merriwell, after ranks were broken.
bones.”

“What do you think it is?”
turedly. .

Clancy — ebided: to
“TI feel, it 3. ae

Frank asked good-na-_

“Hanged if I know. It’s just a straight hunch that some-
thing is going to happen.’

“When is it going to happen?”

“Maybe to-night.”

“Well, let it come,” said Merriwell, with a laugh.

CHAPTER VI.

THE JOLLY FIENDS,

He had a most dependable ©
began to
happen in less than half au hour after the subdivision in-—
spector had made the rounds of the rooms. ;

Owen Clancy was right.
“hunch.” The something he “felt in his bones”

Merriwell, awakened from a sound sleep by a grip on~

his shoulder, opened his eyes in the blank darkness. a
“What's biting you, Clan?” he queried drowsily.

A hollow voice answered him. It was not Clancy’s voice,
that was certain; and it was equally certain that the voice
was disguised.

“Plebe, your time has come!

“Who are you and what do you want?” demanded Merry,
now thoroughly wide awake.

“Arise, put on your clothes, and go forth to your doom!” —

An electric torch was flashed in the darkness, and, in its
faint radiance, Merry saw several masked figures standing
near his bed.

1”

Hazers! was his instant thought. He had been expect-

ing a “course of sprouts,” and realized that it was about

to commence.

7

 
 

pe "NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. | 7 e

a thing or two. Presbery looks ‘tickled to death, and
Hoover is giving a good imitation of a bushel of sour
grapes.”

“Dot Hoofer ain’d in it mit Chip!” declared Kess loy-
ally. *Nopody ain’d in it mit Chip, I tell you dose.”

After a few minutes, Dowd walked over to Merriwell,
Hoover, and Presbery.

“What position are yott out for, Merriwell?” he asked.

“Any position where I can be of use, sir,” was the reply.

The usual grunt came from Dowd, while Presbery looked
greatly pleased.

“And you, Hoover?”

“Quarter,” was the muffled answer.

“Humph! We'll line up for a little work in blocking and
smashing the opposition, Presbery,” said Dowd.

Merriwell drifted into the line-up and foand himself,
entirely by chance, at tackle. He was rather surprised
to find Hoover opposite him in the opposing line.

The ugly smile was on Hoover’s face, and \there was a
smoldering gleam of satisfaction in ‘his eyes.. The. lines
crouched, facing each other like hungry tigers.

“Tf Hoover and I come together,” thought Merriwell,
“there will be ructions.”

Somehow, that thought did not distress him.

CHAPTER V.
A PERSONAL MATTER.

Dowd’s instructions, before the ball was snapped back,
gave Merriwell plenty to do. Hoover realized that, and it
seemed to please him.

“The halves will not try to get through the line,” called
the coach. “Now, ready with that ball! Put your heart
into ¢his, all of you!”

Back came the ball to the crouching quarter. Like
an unleashed fury Merriwell hurled himself at Hoover.
Quick as lightning, the yearling doubled up his‘knee. As
he fell backward under the impetuous rush of the plebe,
that bent knee caught Merriwell in the stomach, and the
breath left him in a choking gurgle. For a second the
distant academy buildings seemed to do a two-step, while
students and instructors who had gathered to watch the
practice appeared to be floating grotesquely in’ whirling
circles. But this was only for a second.

Hoover, prone on the ground, turned over and grabbed
at Metry’s feet. The plebe tried to kick himself loose, but
was tripped and flung head first upon the turf. The year-
ling, bounding erect, rushed toward him—only to find
Dowd barring the way.

“What are you trying to make of this, Hoover?” in-
quired the coach. “A rough-house?”

Merriwell got up with a laugh. His face was a little
white and his eyes a trifle brighter than usual, but that
was all.

“It was my own fault more than Mr. Hoover’s, sir,” he
said to the coach.

“He struck you.”

SNe, sir.”

“Humph! Just remember, please, that this is a gen-
tleman’s game, and not a prize fight.”

Dropping low and waiting for the. signal that was once
more to bring him into close quarters with his enemy, Mer-
riwell smiled cheerfully into the lowering face in front of
him. This was a personal matter which he and the yearling

were threshing out during football practice. Sorsshow
the watchers from the side lines gathered the same idea,
and the interest focused on Merriwell and Hoover. '

The yearling was making ready for the spirited test.
Here was a chance to show Presbery,and Dowd that he
was a better man than Merriwell. The voice of Teneyck
echoed from the crowd of onlookers:

“Stand up to him, Jed!”

Dowd whirled around and frowned fiercely.

“Keep your remarks to yourself there, whoever you are!”
he snarled.

Hoover braced himself for a great effort; but, when the
signal came, the flying figure of the plebe looked so formid-
able that the yearling weakened. For no more than a
heartbeat Hoover lost confidence, but that little lapse
spelled disaster for him.

All the Merriwell traditions that still hovered about Far-
dale seemed to cluster around young Frank, and to speed
with him to the onset. It was a queer, crazy impression
that floated into Hoover’s mind and caused his nerves to
buckle. Before he could recover himself he had been swept
off his feet—hurled back ingominiously as though by a
battering-ram. Far back of the line he was driven, and
then dropped with a crash, flat on his back. :

A roar of laughter came from the spectators. When the
yearling got to his feet again he was almost frothing at
the mouth.

It was bad enough for a second-year man to be shoved,
to one side so that the coach and captain might make @/
favorite of a plebe, but it was worse to have a fellow who
had just entered the school make a spectacle of one from
the upper class!

Hoover was fighting mad. He would have liked to
fall on Merriwell and crush him to the earth—only the
feat seemed impossible. /

There came a few moments, however, when it seemed
as though Hoover might accomplish something. Merriwell
hung back and awaited his opponent’s charge. This was
so different from what the plebe had. been doing that the
yearling ventured to think his courage was weakening.

“Now is my chance!’ Hoover inwardly cried, ix fierce
exultation.

But he was mistaken. Merry had merely changed his
tactics. As Hoover came bounding onward the nimble
plebe jumped to one side, put out a foot, tripped him, then
cuffed him upright before he could fall.

The yearling was temporarily dazed. While he was in
that condition, Merriwell seized ‘his shoulders and ran him
backward clear through the line.

It was almost ludicrous.. Hoover, propelled from in
front, executed his crawfish movement in a wobbling, un-
certain. fashion, and then, at the end of it, was left sitting
on the ground and looking around him with a blank ex-
pression of countenance, as much as to say, “What the
dickens am I doing here?”

Dowd called. off this line of practice and set the squad
to doing something else.
body, however, that although lighter in weight he was
physically Hoover’s master.

That had been a sad afternoon for Hoover—almost as
uncomfortable for him as the preceding afternoon had been
for Merriwell. As though to cap the climax of the year-
ling’s miseries, he heard Presbery telling Merry that he
was to captain the second-string men.

Merriwell had proved to every-.

vas

 

 

 

 

 

f
|
} :
NEW TIP

fellows,” “Just give me a

can

“All right, said he cheerfully,
few minutes to get into my clothes, and
lead me forth to my doom, or to any other old thing that

then you

happens to be on your mind,”

_ “This is. no farce-comedy—for you. It is tragedy—
tragedy.”

“Tragedy always

Frank, laughing.

+ “Never has it made so big a hit with ‘you, plebe, as it
will this awful night, The Jolly Fiends of Fardale in-
tend to give you sputeuhtiie to remember for the rest of

are left to you} which

a big hit, with me,” returned

makes

your days—in case any more days
is aut ful. Make no more noise than absolutely neces-
ary.” '

In the semigloom Frank began getting into his clothes.
Hazing and the “Jolly Fiends” were accepted. institutions
4 ‘at Fardale; that is, they. were accepted by every one except

the faculty. Faculty might object, and they might expel
students caught hazing, but they could not blot out the
time-honored custom. And rarely indeed were any of the
hazers caught.

Merriwell knew he. must submit. And he knew that it

was well to submit with a good grace. While he was
dressing, some more of the Jolly Fiends were huskily
_ whispering to Clancy and forcing him to get up and put
ee on, his clothes,

Fev oy are summoned forth, perchance,”
guised, sepulchral voice, “to .be cut off in your youth and

murmured a dis-

“All right,” agreed Clancy “If Pm to be cut off at all,
how is the time. to do it.”
_ “You ate to be tried—”’
“Bully 1”
“By court-martial——”
“Wow!”
“Ror high jinks and hoop-en-de-doo——”
“Not guilty!”
_ “And if found guilty the penalty is d-d-death !”
rte eae cara Get off my feet, please, while I put on
my shoes.”
Four ceases F iends a ri ni Merriwell and Cap,

“The victims are ready to go forth, most royal nibs!”
sa - returned the leader, “observe whether the

The: door sotily heat and ome of the masked youths
ened into the corridor. He was gone only a moment.

ot way is open, most puissant and all- powerful high

, ou can and guarding the varlet plebes with as little care-
; essness. as possible.”

Except. for purposes of discipline noverauls were rarely

sted in the upper halls. In the” lower corridot guards

s Were found to be. absent grievous ‘results Soud
The Jolly Fiends, however, wigie noted for taking

, E AAee

ew and Clancy. were gendered,

TOP, WEEKLY.

barracks. Two Fiends marched ahead and two. behind.
Cautiously the party of six proceeded, and finally entered
a rogm in quarters given over to the yearlings. The small
crowded, for here more Fiends
and more victims had collected: In the dim light of an
electrie torch Frank and Owen saw their Dutch chum,
Villum. Bingham and Drood were also present.
“Have all the plebe poltroons been rounded un?”
the leader hoarsely,
“All are ready, most noble rinky-dink!” Mie
“Then, to the ladder. Four of you lead the way and -
be teady to receive the victims at the bottom of ladder,
and be sure that none escape.” '
“Aye, verily. If any escape they will get away, and a
must not be.’
“Yet, methinks, if any escape they will be found, and
if found’ they will be discovered.” ’
Frank almost fancied he could recognize that last speaker
as Gordon, just by his talk alone. Still, he could not be
sure. \ WP
A Fiend laid hands on Drood and started to lead him i
toward an open window. a
“l’ve had enough of this,

apartment was pretty well «

queried

”

said Drood, his voice trem- |
bling and his teeth chattering. “I’ll not be hazed.” ;
“Hazed!” growled the leader, between his teeth. “Plebe, - 4
you are about to face the court and be tried for high raz-~
matzas, lazy majesty, and conduct unbecoming a plebe and
Justice clamors for vindication, and we are
Proceed forthwith, or die in your tracks.” ne
a ML yell eh

a hoodlum.
the vindicators,
“I won't,” insisted Drood, almost in a panic,
if you try to make me go with you.”
Bingham drew close to Drood and whispered to hin He |
was giving him good advice, and Merriwell’s estimate of
Bingham went up seyeral notches. Drood listened. while —
his roommate talked, and finally he accompanied one of »
the Fiends to the open window. The top of a ladder. ‘
was visible above the sill. / yt
“Start down, plebe,” ordered the Fiend, “before you f
change your mind. . Go you must, even if you have to be ie
bound, gagged, and carried. You cannot resist the Fiends.
The last man that tried that was planted. Where did we
plant that plebe?” he asked of those behind him. — hy
Two or three voices slowly chanted, in an fandertone:

“We planted him deep and we planted him well,

But the place of that planting no planter will tell ”

Drood once more began to shiver and to ene taki’

3ingham pressed forward, whispered to him again, and’: ‘iy

then helped him over the sill and upon the ladder.’

Bingham followed Drood. After that came Villum Kess. . _

“You vas a cholly punch, all righdt, mit your plandings,”
said Villum. “I vas enchoying dis like a case oof der
mumps. Now I go by der latter down. Vat dit you hay:
I hat done mit meinselluf dot I vas to be dried?”

“You are charged with a most heinous offense,” an %
swered the chief Fiend, “namely, to wit and as ee
Rousmittum.” ei

“Nefer in my life haf T dit it. I pay der cag as,
go, und nopody sharges me mit nodding.”

“That is the eats and Iam the a

pelt you die”
“Vat a bleasant feblings: I got caboudt dot, “4 “ade

 
re!
~ 5

Raita ee aetna ee

and walking one on either side of him.

 

 

 

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

7

Villum, “You talk a lot mit yotir mout’ und you say

noddings. Now I go by der latter.”

Villum climbed through the window and started for
the ground. Clancy followed, and last of all came Merri-
well. Then, the “victims” out of the room, the Fiends
who were left took their departure from barracks. All
came together again under the window, and the ‘plebes
were hustled away from the dark buildings and out on
the country road.

“So far, my happy destroyers,” remarked the leader of
the hazers, “all is serene!” ;

“All oxcept Drood und me,” struck in Villum. “I vas so
serene dot I shake like mit der ‘ague. Und Drood, his
teet’ raddle like a pox oof pills.”

“I’m not scared,” returned Drood. “It takes more than
a bunch,of masked hazers to get me on the run. It’s all
tommyrot.”

“Silence!” ordered the leader sternly. “On, Fiends,
on to where the high tribunal waits!”

The little procession started along the road in the direc-
tion of the village, two Fiends taking each plebe in charge
As they drew
near the railroad the Fiends turned to the right, left

the highway and all clambered over a fence.

At this point there was thick timber, and Frank thought
the crowd might be proceeding in the direction of the
“Wolf’s Den,” an old stamping ground for mischief-loy-
ing students, and a place that had figured prominently in
Dick Merriwell’s life at Fardale

But Frank was wrong. The fellows came presently to
a small clearing that held a tumble-down and uninhabited

farmhouse. Through holes in the wall and through open~

ings which had once served as windows, a dim light

_ showed.

One of the approaching Fiends put his fingers to his lips,
under: the mask, and gave vent to a shrill whistle. A mo-
ment later a chorus of long-drawn-out groans came from

inside the ruinous old building’ The groans gave way to

dismal, nerve-twisting laughs. . After that voices were
lifted in a sort of dirgelike air, not at all calculated to

make the plebes feel comfortable.

“We'll mangle ’em, and strangle ’em,
And from the castle dangle ’em;
Each throbbing moan and sobbing groan
We'll bottle up by phonograph,
And bring it out to sing it out
Whene’er we want to chaff and laugh!”

‘The doggerell was sung again and again, and when
_ Frank grasped the words he laughed softly.

“Eftsoon, plebe, you will laugh on the other side of
your mouth, said one of the Fiends.

&
“Eftsoon is good,” returned Merry. “Proceed with the

show.”

“On to the tribunal,” came the hollow tones of the leader,

and the Fiends marched their squad of “victims” up to
the door of the ancient dwelling.

; “What ho, within | 1” called the leader.

‘he most excellent, by gosh, who brings to your august
bunal five plebes for trial and sentence!” :

CHAPTER VII.
“DRUMHEAD.”

The door opened and the plebes were marched into the >
old house. They found themselves in a room lighted by
three sputtering candles. The candles had. been forced
into the necks of bottles, and the bottles stood on the
floor, each in front of a member of the “tribunal.”

There were three individuals who made up the “court,”
and their appearance was a ludicrous take-off on things
military. They were seated on empty cracker boxes, and
the fellow in the middle wore an old bandmaster’s hat,
shaggy and high}; and decorated in front with a brass belt
buckle.

A half mask covered th upper part of his face, and
under his nose a very fierée false mustache was secured,
the, upturned ends almost reaching his eyes. He wore
gauntlet gloves, great tarnished epaulettes were on his

‘shoulders, and about his waist was girded a rusty sword.

His feet had been thrust into cavalry boots, at whose heels
mammoth spurs were buckled.

This funny-appearing chap was “president” of the court.
A snare drum was placed in front of him, just back of
the bottle that held the candle, and occasionally he would
lean forward and thwack the drum gravely with on
gloved fist.

At the president’s right sat the judge advocate. He
wore a chapeau with a bedraggled feather, and his face
was almost covered with a false full beard. His eyes,
like the president’s, looked out through the holes in a
half mask. :

The other member of the court was there to serve as
counsel, and, of course, was suitably masked so that his.
identity might not be discovered. The moment the plebes
and their captors were in the room, this third man got
up gravely.

“Hear ye, hear ye!” he called, for the moment acting
as clerk. “Take notice, everybody, that this honorab}+ :
court is now sitting for drumhead court-martial, to try
such oftenderg as may come before it.” "ea

The speaker sat down. The president leaned forward
and solemply hit the drum twice with his fist. The judge
advocate saluted. ig

“Who is the first man to be tried?” demandéd the ©
president. a

“General,” answered the judge advocate, “we will try
jointly two plebes called Bingham and Drood.” ak

“Very good. Produce said Bingham and Drood.”

The two plebes were pushed forward into the smoky
flare of the candles.

“What haven’t they done?” asked the president. .

“General,” and the judge advocate pulled a paper from
his pocket, “I will read the charge.” ~ :

“Get busy. The docket is st full, and we shall have
to hustle things.”

“Charge: Insubordination. — ;

“Specification I.—In that said Bingham and Drood, while
at drill Friday afternoon, did feloniously and with malice

aforethought refuse to obey the orders of the son of hi

dad, who had been left temporarily in charge of the squad
“Specification II—In that said Drood allowed himsel

to be forcibly tutned in his tracks by said temporary drill-

master, and said Bingham turned without being forced.”

 
NEW TIP

president, fixing his eyes on Bingham and Drood. “How
_ do you plead—to the first specification ?”

“Guilty,”
“To the second specification ?”
“Guilty.”

ero the

“Guilty.
_ the court.”
_.. The president
of his mustache.
“Who was temporary drillmaster
ous offenses were committed?”

Counsel almost went into a spasm.

“Must we reveal that?” he faltered.

“You must, or stand in contempt of court.”

“Sir, the temporary drillmaster was Chip Merriwell.”
_ The president jumped on his cracker box. His big spurs
Tattled, the rusty sword slipped from his knees and his
shako fell to, one side.

“Impossible!” he gasped.

_ “What is impossible?” inquired cotnsel.

“Why that anybody should have the temerity to disobey
orders from such high authority—the sacred codfish of
pa’ Fardale, hedged about by glorious traditions and second
only to the vested power of the Gunns, This is incred-
ible!”

. “But we have pleaded guilty,” insisted counsel.

“So you did, so you did.” The president stiffened in
his chair. “It is the order of this court,” he
“that said Drood be not boiled in oil,
ment fitting his offense, but. that he merely be ground to

ieces by the method known as ‘track and tie” Said Bing-
ham is to be smashed, but how and when this honorable
court will decide later. Who’s next to get jabbed with
the harpoon of, justice?”

_ “General,” replied the judge advocate, “we will try jointly
the two plebes called Clancy and Kess.”

“What is the chatge?”

The judge advocate read charge and specifications ac-
cusing the prisoners of being friends of Merriwell:; and
Clancy was further accused of having red hair, and Kess
f murdering the English language.

“Guilty or not guilty?” demanded the president.

“Guilty,” pleaded counsel.

“Chust a minute, blease,” spoke up Villum.
grimes at Fardale to be chums mit Merriwell?”
“Tt is in direct defiance of the articles of war,”
the president.

“Den I defy der artigles oof war, und vill say dot I
been guilty; aber you bed my life 1 don’d vas guilty oof
killing off der English language.”
“That makes no difference. Your counsel has pleaded

said counsel, rising and speaking for the plebes.

charge?”

And we throw ourselves on the clemency of
thwacked the drum and twisted the ends
at the time these hein-
he demanded.

went on,
the only punish-

“Tss it some

growled

“Te j is the Sraey’ at fe court that taal 1 Kess he bhi Ga
: “th genes by "track and tie,’” boomed the presi-
ane that Clancy be smashed—when and how to be
ae on with your next offender.”
He nS Sy iagiinn

TOP. WEEKLY,

an ugly design back of it all—a design aimed at Merriwell
personally.

Had he
other students who heard of it and who could not

But Frank was compelled to “face the music,”
resisted,
know the circumstances would put him down as a pretty
poor stick for fighting the hazers. All at the academy had

“gone through the mill,” and all expected to go
To get rantankerous and try to resist merely
increased a plebe’s unpopularity.

“The prisoner at the bar,” said the judge advocate,

next to claim the attention of this honorable court,

were
through it.

“and
the one
is the son of Frank Merriwell and the nephew of Dick
ardale in days long past.
was a

Merriwell, two shining lights at F
Merriwell’s father was a wonder
marvel, and Merriwell is accused of trying to steal a little
He poses as\ the illustrious
family, and tries to popularize himself by means of his

and his uncle

of their glory. scion of an
pedigree—all of which is in direct disregard of all the
Fardale rules

Drood and Bingham snickered. The remarks of the
judge advocate of this mock court seemed to be highly.
relished by them.

The masked Fiends in various parts of the room gave
vent to stifled groans. It was as though the enormity of
Merriwell’s offense was more than they could bear, and
had wrenched from them the dismal sounds.

Clancy and Kess were rapidly discovering something be-
sides humor in the situation. Their eyes wandered angrily
and resentfully from one masked face’ to another.

“What kind of a skin game is this?” demanded Clancy.

“Tt don’d vas a choke some more, und dot’s all aboudt
it!” chimed in Villum.

“Silence!” ordered the judge advocate.

“You have heard the charge, Merriwell,”
dent. “Are you guilty, or not guilty?”

“Not guilty,” answered Merry, before counsel coiitd
get in ahead of him. 44
“How do'you make that out?” queried the judge advo-
cate. “Actions speak louder than words.” %

A little white had run into Merriwell’s face.

“T don’t know whether this is a plain hazing stunt,” said
he, “or whether you have just got me here in order to
get in a few knocks by way of showing you don’t like
me, But it’s all right, fellows. I can stand anything you ~

can put a¢ross. Only don’t get me wrong, that’s all. And —
don’t try to hit at me over the shoulders of the rest dt
the family.” 4

Silence greeted these remarks. What Frank said tad:
somehow made the proceedings look mean and cheap to a
few of the Fiends. Yr,

“You're the son of your dad, aren’t you?” came the dis- ‘
guised voice of the president of the mock court. ,

Merry flung up his head and threw back his shoulders.

“Yes,” he answered, in a ringing voice, “and I’m proud —
of it. He’s been a mighty good dad to me. But I’m not
toting him around Fardale a$ a shield and defender, or
as an excuse for my own incompetence. I’m not trying
to get under dad’s wing, and I don’t want any of the
glory he covered himself with here at Fardale. ;
ig just one thing I want at this school, and that is! to
stand ‘on my own feet and fight my own way. If some
of you fellows would stop trying to crowd dad and Uncle |
Dick on me, and just give me a chance to be plain Chip’

7 . 2 3
and conventions,

said the presi- |

; me eu be playing fair. But es aon play

 
 

NEW TIP TOP:

fair or foul,

termined, “I’m here to win out in my own right—and [’m

and here the voice grew emphatic and de-
going to do it!”

It was a frank, manly statement, and there was no doubt
but that it good
Jolly Fiends. president leaned forward quickly.

“Have ed.

“No,”

“The
while
will bring forth the gloves.”
said the leader of the Fiends,

made a impression upon some of the
The
you thing tore to * he demand

allyt say?

answered Merriwell.
‘track and tie’
the smashing is going on.

for yours then! But stand aside
The royal kersnoozlum
“General,” “the mitts will
be provided,”
“Let the prisoners, Clancy and Bing, elevate their lunch
* hooks, and some of the rest of you see that the mitts are
placed: thereon,” continued the pre sident.
of the masked youths

appeared with two pairs of boxing gloves, which were at

Another moment and the leader

once’ pushed upon the hands of Clancy and Bingham.

CHAPTER VIII.
A BOXING BOUT.

“Chiminy Grismus!” chuckled Villum Kess. “So dot iss
eh? like dot bedder as
mit Glaney, how vill you

pitzness, vould
‘gedding groundt oop
trade dooms mit me?”

“Couldn’t think of making a swap, Villum,”
Clancy. “This is just the fate I have been hankering for.”

“You will smash and be smashed,” spoke up the presi-
dent, “and you, .will put your heart into it.
fidgeting, so come together.
Swat ‘will act as referee.”

The “Ahkoond of Swat”

‘SP his
_teemed friend, Dusenberry,” said the ref-
eree. “Nothing is barred except kicking and biting. When
you begin, you will keep at it until Time!
- Shake hands.”

_ The two plebes stepped toward each other and their right
gloves smacked together in a greeting that was decidedly
formal and decidedly hostile. Then they proceeded to as-

sault each other.

Clancy had long desired that opportunity. Bingham was
_quarrelsome and insolent, and the red-headed fellow had
become very impatient with Merry because he had put up
with Bing’s lawlessness for some time before finally teach-
‘ing him a lesson.’

The lesson had been thoroughly administered.
brought Bingham no particular profit, however,

The quarrelsome plebe, it is true, had been taught to
have a healthy regard for Merriwell's strength and skill;
but he burned to “get even,” and the Jolly Fiends offered
him a good chance to square accounts by pounding Clancy.
es “Soak him in the solar, Bing!”

"Knock him by der mittle oof lasdt veek, Glancy !”

“Put out the red light !”

Ps "Get at it with life! What're you dodging

: for?”

38 boxers were fiddli ing around, feintng side- ch 153

der smashing
bieces,

answered

Tempus is
The most noble Ahkoond of
projected himself to the fore.

is to be according to the rules of our es-

‘ ’
g
£0

the Marquis of

you finish.

It had

each other

bite had skill, there was ‘no
; and he was not long in disc avering that
antagonist wes no novice at the game.

WEEKLY, 3
Bingham, however, was slower on his feet than Clancy. —
le had more power, but less speed. | °
Thwack !
The red-headed chap, with a very
brought his right up under the other’s guard,

had
landing an

clever feint,
uppercut that made Bingham stagger.

Fiends. :
cried another -

“Two on the red!” croaked one of the
“You felt that,
huskily.
“Careful,
in a third.
Merriwell was. far from being pleased with the bout.
It had apparently, for the entertainment of —
the Fiends, and the boxers were showing too much per-
Here, were two circumstances which took
the “go” out of the category of mere sport and gave it the

Bing, you know you did!”

Bingham! Don’t let him fool you!” chimed

been staged,
sonal hostility.

look of a prize fight.
In spite of his disapproval, Merry was powerless to in- —
terfere. He could only stand by and watch the struggle
as it progressed. in on him that.
the Fiends, and especially the fellow in the bandmaster’s
hat, ancy get the worst of it.
There was no other reason for this except that Clancy was
his—Merriwell’s—chum. ei
The
Clancy,
blocking

Gradually it was borne

were anxious to see Cl

pummeling each other. |
guarded his body effectively, —
and landing several that. still
ham and caused his temper to mount- “
than calculation, Bing got to —
a stinger on the point of the chin. Clancy's
Amid great applause from the Fiends, —
3ingham began following up his advantage. It looked, for
a few moments, as though Clancy was really to. get the ;
worst of it. ie

But
ance

two. fellows continued

for the most part,
blow after blow,
further jarred Bing

Finally, more by chance
Clan with
red head wabbled.

“stayer.” He had not the endur-
He was breathing hard, and the —
designed to lay Clancy on the floor and finish the |
lacked steam.

Bing was not a

of his opponent.
blows,

| contest,
While

ment.

, Clancy took punish-
He did not try to clinch, but backed away,
ing his face with his gloves.

“You got him on the run, Bing !”

“Now a good one in the right place and it will all be :

he was recovering his wits
cover-

over!”

“Smash him! Smash him!”

“Vat iss der madder mit you,
stemming the tide of encouragement for Bingham with a
little cheer for his friend. “Nefer mind vat he does mit
his handts—chust look him in der eye und do a leedle a
hidding on your. own aggount! You vas bedder as he!
iss any day in der veek!” \ pd ae

Merriwell said papanies at all. He did not care for the
performance, and he knew that Clancy was in ne need of
advice or encouragement. He would do his own planning,
and he was not in so bad a hole as the Fiends evidently
believed.

Suddenly Clancy uncovered his face.. No longer did he
allow Bingham to drive him around at will. The rede
headed chap was grinning, ae

“Look out, Bing!” he:called. “You've had your own way
long enough, and here’s where I have mine!’ _

With that he waded into his adversary. He had |
cuperated in a manner which, to the F
astonishing.

 

Glancy?” cried Villum,
NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

.

In the excitement aroused by the boxing exhibition, the
nasked fellows had, for the time, dropped their attempts
to disguise their voices. Merriwell believed he recognized
Teneyck and’ Gordon, and several more upper classmen.
‘But he could not be sure of his surmises. Only a square
look into the faces of the hazers would enable him to
recognize any of them positively.
_ But if Teneyck was in the crowd, that could mean only
that the night’s work was plain persecution, carried out
under. the guise of hazing. Teneyck was a snake in the
grass, always nagging others on against Merriwell, but
himself keeping clear of troublesome consequences.

Merry debated in his mind whether or not he ought
to use force in meeting these designs of his enemies. He
decided that, as’ every other student in Fardale would “8
lieve nothing more than a hazing party was abroad tha
night, it would be best to let the persecution go on. Bi
could make the best of it. If he showed an ugly temper,
he could not very well explain his reasons, and the whole
school, with few exceptions, would look upon him as a
renegade regarding the established customs. Merriwell
had all the hostility he could take care of without heaping
the measure any higher.

Clancy had jumped into Bingham with energy and firm-
ness. The latter now gave way before him, feebly parry-

“ing' blows and seeking to save himself punishment by
clinching. Again and again the red-headed boxer flung
his antagonist off, striking him almost at will.

A trickle of red flowed over Bingham’s chin from a cut
on the lip. His face and he was rapidly
getting “groggy.” f

“That’s enough,

~ “This isn’t a prize fight!

“Hold your yaup, plebe!”

~“You’re,an innocent bystander and haven’t
_ This is going to a knock-out!”
“Clancy!” called Merry. “Let up!”
Clancy stepped back. One of the Fiends gave him a
_ push back toward Bingham,
“You keep at it, Redhead,”
we'll paste you from behind!”
_. Bingham had staggered against the wall.
there, arms drooping and body limp, almost done up and
suffering keen distress.

Clancy was reluctant to give the fellow further punish-
ment. But what was he to do? As he stepped toward
Bingham, Merriwell sprang in front of him.

- “This has gone far enough!” declared Merriwell. “It’s
-Clancy’s bout, and there’s no sense or reason in mauling a
beaten man.”

- “Do you defy the Jolly Fiends of Fardale?” cried the
leader of the masked youths.
“Well, yes,” was the answer, “if you Wait to call it that.
There's nothing \fair or honorable about kicking a fellow
when~he is down.”

“Seize him, Fiends!” ordered the leader, pointing to
Merriwell. “Where are the bonds? ‘Tie his hands at his
back. If he yells, gag him!”

“By shinks,” cried Villum Kess,

was bruised,

fellows!” called Merry indignantly.
Stop it!”
ordered the lad in the shako.

a. thing to say.

“

threatened the Fiend, “or

He leaned

springing to Merry’s

ide, “oof Merrivell gifs der vort, den ve glean oudt der |

hole punch oof you!”
: “That's the eS seconded Clancy, ining up shoulder

‘march

“Keep out of this, you two!” said Merry to his chums,
in a low voice. “This is not to be a grand free-for-all.”

“Those,are words of wisdom, to which the plebes at
your side will do well to give heed,” remarked the leader
of the Fiends grimly. “Where are the bonds?”

“Here, your royal muchness!” came from one of the
hazers.

Just at that moment a distant whistle was heard followed
by the rumble of a train on the way to Fardale.
“Hist!” called the president of the tribunal.

the eleven-five ?”

“Must be,” answered several voices. ;

“Then the special will be along presently and we must
not delay. It is time Merriwell_was eliminated from the
face of the earth, and we’d better begin on him. Time
wears apace.”

“Very much apace.”

“Blind the plebe!”

“Put your hands behind you, Merriwell!” ordered the
fellow with the rope.

“Go ahead with the binding,” said Merry, and pees
his arms into the required position.

Quickly the rope was made fast.

“T don’d like dot!” breathed Villum.

“Nor I,” growled Clancy.

“Tt boots not what you like,” retorted the leader. “Four
of you will remain with Drood, .Kess, Clancy, and Bing-
Keep them here in the\house. The rest of us will
to the scene of execution, the royal highbinder
bringing more rope to be used in performing the happy
dispatch. Ready? Then forward, march!”

Merriwell, bound and nearly helpless,. was hustled
through the door of the old house and led away into the
darkness.

“Is that

ham.

CHAPTER IX.

A TRYING ORDEAL,

’

The railroad track was only a short distance from the — :
old house. The Fiends and their intended victim came to —
it at a point where it curved around the base of a me
bluff. A cloud drifted from the face of the moon and ~
Merriwell saw the dark bluff and the shimmering rails.
He wondered what the Fiends were up to.

“Plebe,” came huskily from the leader as that individual _
stepped in front of Merry, “have you anything to say
before you are ground to pieces and scattered over this
part of the landscape?”

“Not a word,” was the answer. ’ ee

“Ungenerous one! Is there not some final word or —
token which you would fain leave for the proud and —
doting father in far-off Bloomfield?”

“T am not fain to leave my. tokens, most noble four-
flusher and grand high false alarm.”

“Dost jest in the shadow of thy enero re

“T dost.”

“Frail and foolish mortal, this is Act a Heme for hadi=!
nage. Have you no apology to send to Hoover?”

“I have a piece of my mind to send. to Hoover——”
“It will be in pieces, ere long, together with the rest of
you. Hoover can happen along and pick up the fragment —
that suits him. Most high and lofty captain of the secon
eleven, to whom/ do you leave your football honors?” —

“To the fellow who knows how to tackle with the le i

 
 

 

we

ey ter of twelve,

hands,

knew was to be

across the other, he
the rope came forward,

move his body by so much as an inch.
walked all over him with cold feet.’

distance, began talking

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

shoulder, and to fall on the ball without making a high

dive.”

An instant of silence followed, Then a choking, angry

voice burst out:

“Give him the ‘track and tie!’ Let’s see how much

nerve he has!’

Merriwell, without further delay, was seized by a dozen
dragged upon the track and forced down across
Not till then did he realize what the hazers
Now the dread truth flashed over him, and
teeth and steeled himself for what he
a most trying ordeal.

With head and shoulders across one rail, and his feet
was held The fellow with
coil was passed

the rails.
had in mind.
he ground his

firmly
after
around his body and under the steel.

and coil

nerve. Of

was a grim joke and one

It was a proceeding to try any person's

course it was a joke, and yet it

\ which might very easily go wrong and result in tragedy.

After the tying was finished, Merriwell found himself

looking straight up at the stars and the fleeting
§ 5 L

unable to turn his face to right or left, and unable to

His. skin,

clouds,

to use an
expressive phrase he had heard in the West, “got up and
>» Yet not a murmur
escaped his tense lips. The Fiends, withdrawing to a little
among themselyes—clearly for Mer-
riwell’s benefit.
“At what time
“A quarter of an hour before midnight.”

is the special due?

“Are you positive?”

“Sure. I got the information from the Fardale opera-

tor.”

“What sort of a special is it?”

“Excursion train.”

“A heavy train?” \

“Very heavy ; double header with a dozen coaches,”

“Will it hurt Merriwell if it runs over him?”

“Tt will bruise him.” meen

“Then I suppose—— Hist, what’s that?”

From far off came a wheeze as of a locomotive’s ex-
gcd, and a faint, clicking whisper of approaching wheels

on the rails.

said a voice.

That isn’t due till a quar-
half| past eleven !”

in the Fardale yards.”

“Sounds like a train,”
“But it can’t be the special!
and now it’s only
“Probably it’s an engine switching i
“That must be it.”
Merriwell’s ears, close to the track, were gruesomely
aware of wheels on the rails. The click- click as iron rims

passed over the fish plates sent through him a thrill of
_ horror.

What if-something were to go wrong with that
mad prank? He was témpted to cry, out, but with a fierce

effort he restrained himself.

He knew that the hazers were hoping to. hear from him
That satisfaction he would

some expression of fright.
Well,

not give them. They wanted to test his nerve.

_ they might test it, but they. would not find it lacking.

r J}
A moment later he became aware that the noise on the

It could not be an engine’

“yards! The clickety-click

and tried in vain to wrench clear of the ropes. The
hempen strands held him as in a vise.
said one of the Fiends,

“That can’t be a switch engine !”

in a voice of alarm. “You made a mistake in getting the
time of the special——”
“Good heavens! ‘ If
“It may be another special!
due at this time of night.”
“Great Scott! Is the train coming this way?”
“Yes, yes!
“I told you fellows you were
well will be killed! We'll have to hurry
By that time the rush and rumble,of the wheels was
Accompanying the sound was a
exhaust.

”>

there is a mistake——

There’s no regular train

too far! Merri-
if we save him!”

going

very loud and clear.
swishety-swish,
The train, it around the bluff

A chorus of. frantic on Merriwell’s ears.
He could also hear feet scrambling over the gravel and
and not approaching,

swishety-swish of a locomotive’s

seemed, was coming

voices broke
stones—but the feet were receding

“Come back, fellows!” whooped a voice, in wild panic.
“Come back and help me get him out of the way! We
can’t leave him like, that!”

It appeared from this as though
and stricken with horror by what they had done, were flee-
ing from the scene in an unreasohing stampede. Even the
fellow who had called to them seemed to have lost courage.
Still calling, he followed into the distance, his voice slowly
fading into the roar and rumble and escaping steam,
tongue clove to the roof of his mouth.

with but could

the hazers, frightened

He

not

Merriwell’s

fought fiercely those coils of rope,

-escape fron’ them.

Suddenly a blinding glare burst around the base of the.
bluff, It was the headlight of the train!

Would the engineer see him? Even if the engine crew
did see him, they would have no time to stop the train
before he would be under the wheels! .

A long, frantic whistle echoed from the direction of the
bluff. Ah,
on the track—but too late, too late! /

Merriwell closed his eyes. His breath
gasps and he waited for what was to come.
The click of wheels and the
sound of escaping steam died away. Some one laughed:

“Wonder if he’s fainted?” queried a voice.

“He didn’t yell, and that’s a cinch,” said another voice.
“He had his nerve right with him.”

Steps erunched the gravel between the tracks. Mars:
well opened his eyes and saw two forms standing above
him in the glow of a beam of light. They were young fel-
lows, and they were masked, a

“T say, plebe!” said one of the forms.

“All right,” returned Frank grimly, realizing it the af-
fair was no more than a hazing stunt, after all oe
don’t you go ahead and run over me?” r

“Well, I'll be hanged! You're a cool one, all right”

“How is he?” hailed a voice from the trackside. ;

“Chipper as a cricket,” was the answer. “You'll have t
think of something else if you want to put a [oe it
Chip Merriwell.”

Merry was released and got ane to his bei
track near him stood a hand c¢ it ¢
the hand car was a locomotive beadlite rhit, ‘Cis of tha fe
lows near him held a long, round tin’can. The other’
a wooden object in his hand which proved to be a w

came jn short

3ut nothing happened.

 

those on the engine had discovered the form
NEW TIP. TOP: WEERLY.

“That hand car was the special train, eh?” inquired Mer- “Aw, stow that sort of talk. He’s no cad. He'll make
-riwell. old Fardale proud of him, if he has half a chance.” i
Some one giggled. “Another hero worshiper!” sneered a voice. “You'd

“Yes, that was the train.” : better go and hang on with Presbery.”

“It made enough noise for a limited express. Where “lve a right to my own opinion,’ was the quiet re-—
did the steam come from?” sponse. (2

The tin can was full of small pebbles. By shaking it - The hand car and other paraphernalia were sent off be- —
from side to side a clever imitation of escaping steam was- hind the bluff, and presently the two Fiends returned to
secured. the track. with Drood. The plebe was badly frightened, and.

“What about the whistle?” went on Merry. the hazers—a few of them—seemed to take delight in tor- —

The fellow with the whistle blew a deep-toned blast. turing him with their remarks.

“Pretty good imitation of a train, wasn’t it?” asked one Merriwell, meanwhile, had not gone far on his way to-
of the Fiends. ward the academy. He fell to thinking about Drood and
“Fine,” Merry answered, but without enthusiasm. Kess. eos

A queer silence had settled over most of the masked He remembered that both those fellows had also been

_ party. Many of them were disappointed. They had tried condemned to suffer the test of the “track and tie.” ¥

to frighten Merriwell, to prove that he was not courage- “I think Villum would stick it out, all right,” muttered
ous. But he had withstood the “test,” and the laugh, if Merry, “but I’d hate to have them work that stunt on
there was any, was on the other side. him. As for Drood ”

“We tried to make a monkey out of him,” said some one His reflections came to an abrupt halt.
bluntly, “and he made monkeys out of us! He’s no coward, Merry had no occasion to think well of Drood. The’.
and you can chalk’ that up in your hat.” plebe roomed with Bingham, and Bingham had probably

“You’re a lot’of cowards yourselves,” cried Frank, turn- © poisoned his mind against Merry. :
ing indignantly on the hazers. “What do you think of 3ut Drood was nervous and -excitable. If he were put
yourselves, anyway? Some fellows might have died of to the test he would suffer horribly.
fright, if you had treated them the way you did me! I “T believe I'll just turn back and keep an eye on opera-—

like a joke as well as anybody, but not a fool perform- tions,” Merriwell said to himself. “If they try to put Vil-

ance like this.” lum ‘through that stunt, [’ll interfere; and I'll] jump in,

He whirled on his heel and started away. too, if they go too far with Drood.”
“Sore!” jeered a voice. “Now he'll blow on us!’ / Facing about, he returned toward the bluff. THere
“T’ll not blow on anybody,” Merry halted to answer, were bushes and rocks at the base of the rise, where it
“and I’m not sore. But this sort of work is liable to get sloped away from the railroad track, and he had no’ diffi-
you into trouble. You ought to have sense enough to see culty in keeping himself out of sight. He crept close
If you're satisfied, I am.” and saw that Drood was already bound to the rails. ;

that, without being told.
!’ the plebe was clamoring~

He went on, no one making any move to detain him, and “Take me away from here!
was soon out of sight among the shadows. loudly. ; ae
“He’s right,” said one of the hazers, breaking a deep “Haven’t you got any sand?” demanded one of the —

silence that followed Merriwell’s departure.. “And we _ hazers.
didn’t have much fun with him, that’s a cinch.” “You let me go or I'll blab this whole business to
“There’s Drood and the Dutchmart yet,” said the leader. faculty!” howled Drood.,
“A couple of you go after Drood. We'll get a laugh out “By the time we're through with you, plebe, maybe you \
of this somehow.” won't be able to blab anything to anybody.” id
Drood lifted his voice frantically: “Help! help!”
CHAPTER X. “Shut up, or we'll gag you!”
“Do you want to kill me??? asked Drood, his om in- |
; A NEAR TRAGEDY, creasing. Ain
, “Ym for cutting out the rest of this right here,” said “If you’ve got any grit, show it.”
one of the Fiends. “It’s time we were getting back to “Where’s Bingham? Oh, Bingham! Bingham!” \
ad “You can call until you’re blue in the face, but Bingham
won't hear you.” a
The hazers retreated from the helpless plebe toward the
trackside, and immediately began talking among them-
selves, just as they had done for Merry’s benefit. ‘
It was all about the special, the heavy train of coaches, —
and so on, and every word must have stabbed the Hoes

quarters, anyhow.”

//“If you're getting cold feet,” said another, “mosey
along. I want a little fun, and I’m going to have it.
Who’s with me?”

The fellow who voiced an objection had not the cour-
age Of his convictions. He grumbled a little, but stayed
with his companions. Two of the Fiends were sent back

0 the old house for Drood. Drood to the hee art. ‘5 ae - eae

Bi Have to: Hand 40°40 Maceiwell ‘far teing gard” “T can’t/stand this!” thought Merriwell. ‘They're lable ;

A to make that chap daffy. He’s under a terrible strain!”

s mmented Sere r He had a knife in his pocket, and he got it in his hands .
Do you call it being game, the way he left us?” said anq opened the blade. Then he started to creep through

nother. “He went away with a grouch.” | the bushes, laying a course that would bring him down to —

I don’t know whether hé had a grouch or not, but he the rails within a few feet of where Drood lay bound.
It was his intention, when he had come close enough, —

He's a cad.” | to leap to his feet, run to the plebe and slash the ropes

 
NEW

twain before the hazers could interfere. The talk was
going forward just as it had done in Merry’s case, and
Drood was almost blubbering
‘And then, in the midst of it all, something
happened. A real train was heard in the distance, som-
ing from beyond the bluff. That it was a real train and
not the hand car there could not be a particle of doubt.
A far-off whistle sounded clear and sharp on the night air,

Around the bluff, not a dozen feet from where Merriwell
‘was crouching, came the two chaps who were in charge of
the hand car. They were almost as frantic as Drood.
~ “Train coming, fellows! It’s almost here!”

The appalling news seemed to paralyze the hazers.
stood as though stricken dumb.
“Get the plebe off the track, quick.

Two or three dusky figures started toward Drood. At
the same moment, a huge shape burst around the foot of
the bluff, one gleaming eye boring into the dark.

The form on the track was seen and again the whistle
bellowed. The engineer shut off steam and threw on the

air, Thefbrake shoes. bit into the wheels, but it was im-
possible to stop the train before it should be upon: the
plebe; that is, it would have been impossible had it not been
for Chip Merriwell.

Merry, who was quite close to Drood, had leaped erect
and raced to his side. Like lightning he manipulated the
knife. He worked blindly, madly, and yet to some purpose.
The rope at Drood’s feet was severed, and: when Frank
turned to slash the blade through the coil at his shoul-
ders, the earth was shaking under the ponderous weight
of the train and the hot breath of the engine beating in
his face.

In spite of the danger he stuck to his task. Drood was
“unable to help himself. He had not fainted, but he was
so far goné with fright that he was limp and dazed.

With one final cut of, the knife the last coil fell away.
- Grabbing Drood by the shoulders, Merry hurled him bodily
clear of the rails and sprang after him. Both lay panting
_ on the ground as the train flung past.

_ The little drama had taken place under the startled eyes
of engineer and fireman. They saw that the danger was
over, and the brakes were released and the train rushed
on with increasing speed.

“Are you hurt, Drood?” Merriwell asked.

_ The other looked up at him blankly, seeming scarcely
able to realize what had happened.

“T say, Drood!”

“Ts that you, Merriwell?”
"Yes."

“Was that—was you——”

; _ Drood broke off with a groan and hid his face in his
hands. He was not hurt, but he was trying to shut out
the horror of that huge shape with the gleaming eye, rush-

neat

ing down upon him.

with fear.

unexpected

They

gasped the plebe.

“The danger’s over now,” went on Merriwell, “and
you're all right.”
A choking sob rushed from between Drood’ s lips,
_“T never want to go through anything like that again,”
he mumbled. “Good heavens! If it hadn’t been, for you,
rhat would have happened to me?”
“Never mind that now. Get it out of your Gone. A
ss is as good as a mile, you know.”

‘Where are the Fiends?”

Red?”

TIP TOP WEEKLY. | TE ee

Drood sat up tremblingly and looked around through the
darkness.

“Don’t tret about the Fiends,” said Merry.

“They’re the ones to do the fretting, confound them!”
exclaimed Drood fiercely. “I'll see that they pay for this,
you can bet on that.” ;

“How’'ll you make them pay?”

“How? Why, by reporting them. I’ll tell Colonel
Gunn. I guess he’ll show ’em where they get off. If it
hadn’t been for Bing I shouldn't have come here. I'd
have kicked up a row in barracks, and that would have
queered the whole deal. Teneyck’s a friend of Bing’s,
and he’d see that Bing didn’t get treated like the Fiends
treated me. The Jolly Fiends! Jupiter, they’ll be
anything but jolly when_I’m done with them.”

Drood’s emotions had quickly changed from fear to
anger. He knew he was safe, and all he thought about was
“getting even.”

“Be careful, Drood,” warned Frank,
make a mistake.”

“How'll I make a mistake?”

“Why, by blowing on the hazers. It won’t do any good.
You can’t’identify any of them.”

“Til bet I can. I'll swear I can pick out Hoover. He
was one of ’em. And Teneyck was another.”

“That’s what you think. You don’t really know.”

“I’m going to make trouble for ’em, I tell you!” in-
sisted Drood. ;

“Suppose you do make trouble for them? Suppose you
get some of them expelled: Do: you know what will
happen then?”

“What ?”

“You'll be cut by every chap in school. It will be made
so hot for you that you'll have to leave. Now be sensible.
You're well out of it.. Keep what happened to yourself.”

“Hanged if I do! Why don’t you report ’em yourself?
I was told when I thought of coming here that the faculty
didn’t allow hazing.”

“They don’t—if they can help it. It’s one of the things
they can’t stop. It has been going on for years, and it
will go on for years longer. When you get to. bea year- -
ling, you'll probably be hazing plebes yourself.”

“Don’t you believe it. IJ——”

At that juncture a call came from the distance.
Clancy’s voice, and hé was shouting for Merriwell.

“This way, Clan!” Merry answered.

In a few moments Clancy arrived, and Bingham and
Kess were with him. As plebes they were being hazed, and
as plebes they were standing together. Only for that,
Clancy and Kess would have scorned to be found any-
where in Bingham’s company.

“that you don’t

‘It was

CHAPTER XI.
A YEARLING UNMASKED.

“What's been going on here, Chip?” queried Clancy.
“What makes you think anything has been going on,

~
“The Fiends all took to their heels. They lit out like
a lot of scared rabbits. Two or three of them rushed by
the old house and yelled for the fellows who had charge
of us to cut for barracks. Queerest thing I ever heard or
saw. Is Colonel Gunn after this bunch of strays?” °
“Not that I know of,” said Merriwell. “They tried t

 
 

NEW TIP” TOP

play a Joke, and came near “being the victim of it them-
bd és?
Vat vas der choke?”

Ina few words Merry
stunt, and how it had been played upon him and Drood.

“That’s fun—I don’t think!” cried Clancy.’ “Those chaps
must be a pack of fools! Suppose you hadn’t been around
to save Drood, Chip! I guess that gang would have got in
pretty deep.”

“I don’d like sooch pitzness!”
vas der nexdt afder Drood to run der
vould haf peen so madt as some vet hens!”

“Vil fix ’em!” declared Drood sayagely. “I'll show

_ where they get off, by thunder!’

“Bingham,” said Frank, “you take
racks and get him in a different frame of mind,”

“It’s no business of mine what he does,” answered Bing-

asked Villum,

explained the ‘track-and-tie”

"Und I
ofer! J

grumbled Kess.
drain

them

Drood back to bar-

ham sullenly.

“I guess it is. If you don’t
you'll make Drood hold his tongue.”

“How can I make him ?”

“You’ve got a big influence over him. I know that.
You can make him keep still if you want to. And,” ‘said
Merry, slowly dnd deliberately, “you’re going to want to;
because, if you don’t, I'll see that you have a little some-
thing to explain to Colonel Gunn yourself.”

want Teneyck expelled,

Bingham started.

“T’ll do what I can,”
go back.”

The two walked away in'the direction of the road, Drood
talking loudly of what he was going to do as they went.

“That Drood didn’t so.much as say ‘thank you’ for pull-
ing him off the. track, did 1 he, Chip?’ asked: Clancy.

“What was the use?” said Frank, with A laugh.

“No use, I suppose. I don’t see how you could expect a
‘roommate of Bing’s to be civil or décent.”

“Dere iss somepody coming !” ihloverda Kess, pointing.

“Qof it iss Cholly Fiends, mit indentions to do some more
tings by me, den you bed my life

“I guess they're done for one night, Villum,” said Merry.
Three masked figures were approaching through the

moonlight. They came slowly, and evidently in peace.
ganat you, Merriwell?” called a husky voice.

nutes.”

“Just a word.”

The figures drew close and came to a halt. One of them
» was plainly the leader of the hazers, but he was not the
fellow who was doing the talking.

“You got us out of a bad-hole to- night,” said the Fiend,
and his voice proved +that He was in anything but a jolly
frame of mind.

_ “What of it?” returned Merriwell.
“Nothing, only we appreciate it.”
“Didn't T tell you, after you had ‘finished with me, that
u might get’ into trouble with that kind of foolish-
“ness?”
"You did, but hap hadn't sense enough to take your tip.

Vas Brood hurt at all?” .

‘Not physically, but his feclings were badly damaged. sg
oC know a We Dats you arguing with him

said he. “Come on, Drood. Let’s

I vas going to fighdt!”

. Is he going

5

ron ae r guess that ‘will ‘keep I Bits “stil” ”

’Drood?

WEEKLY.
“Funny you don’t want to give the snap away yourse
murmured the Fiend.
“What do you take me for?” cried Merry indignantly.
“Well,’ was the grateful res ponse, “you certainly are
acting white. We——’ re
The Fiend’s voice trailed away into startled silence.
Merriwell had made a quick leap at one of the figures, and,
swift as a flash, had torn away the mask.
“What do you mean by that?” snarled a voice.
“Plamed oof it ain’d Hoofer!”
“Tt’s the lord high skeezicks himself !’’
“The grand skazoozalum, and no mistake!”
Merry. “I thought so all the time.”
“Now you ve proved it, what good is it going to do yall 5 :
—or me?” asked Hoover angrily.
“It does ‘me a heap of good. UL think I can unileienaan
a few things, that were a bit dark to me. This
wasn’t just plain hazing, Hoover. You put too much heart
into it. You were trying to rub it into me, weren’t you?”
“You didn’t get it any worse than the rest, did you?”
snapped the yearling. Cd
“Certainly I did. Being tied to that railroad track wasn’t
half so bad as being crowded to the wall by That drum-
was contemptible.

chuckled Kess,
laughed Clancy,
observed

now,

head court-martial.. The work there
The fool charges you brought against’ me were all de-
signed as a'slur. You know it. Hoover, you're a pretty
mean sort. Ard Teneyck isn’t. much better. I saw you,
talking with Teneyck, just after football practice, and T
believe you and he put this up between you.” i

“IT don’t care what you believe,” fumed Hoover.
ahead and get me fired, if you want to.’

“Who said I wanted to? Or that I cared enough shots
you, one way or the other, to report you to Colonel Gunn?
But you worked it so as to get me in wrong at drill, and
didn’t hesitate to report me. Why didn’t; you report —
I can tell you why; I was the one you had
it in for, Don’t try that again, Hoover. Play. BINA witl
me from now on.”

The. yearling kept silence,

igh a se

one,” continued Merriwell.
you've got to do the same by me. Get that?
“If you think you can hold hack what apnea s to.
night,” snarled Hoover, ‘ dpast sO you can use it as a club
to make me wall: chalk, you’ve got another. guess coming.”
“Maybe I have. We'll see. TI guess that will be all.
Come on, Clancy, you and Kess,” he added, starting briskly
away. {0 eo
“You're all right, Merriwell !
It was not Hoover’s voice, of course.
in another moment, though.
“You make me tired!” was his sneering remark to ‘the
Fiend who had said Merry was “all right.’ ai.
“Is that so?” answered the .other. “Well, I haven
begun to: make you go tired to-night as Merriwell has.”
-Merriwell laughed softly as he and his chums drew out
of hearing. f
“We've got the Jolly FE lends to ears —e them
selves,” he said, yo
pleasant evening.”
“Dose fellers don’d got tings to coming like vat.
vanted,” returned Kess. “Dey. v vill know bedder,
time, ven dey go oudt to make some moakiyr rane 17
ness mit Chip Mer ee e 4 Ae

”

” called a voice after them,
Hoover tuned wee

 

 

“But if I leave you alone e wy
SEW TIP ROP WEEE YO ee ae

“Now you're saying something, Villum,” agreed Clancy.
“The thing now is to get back to quarters without being
_ discovered,” said Merry. “I hope that blooming inspector
hasn’t been around while we have been out of barracks
and raising high jinks. That would mean demerits ail
around.”

CHAPTER XII.
“YOU'RE 0. K., PLEBE [

Merriwell, Clancy, and Kess crept cautiously toward the
big building in which they had their quarters. They found
the ladder still leaning against the sill of the second-
story window. So far, everything was safe.

Merriwell was first to climb to the room in the yearling
division, The room was dark and silent as he dropped
into’ it, but two forms rose from the bunks a moment
Jater.

_ “Who is it?” one voice whispered.

~ “Merriwell.”

- Both. forms got up and.same softly toward Merry.

“You don’t know who we are,” went on one, “and you're
— not going to know, but I want to say, plebe, that you're
a (ean «id
“You bet,” murmured the other.

“Why so?”

“Because you’ve made Drood bottle up. , That cub just
went through here with Bingham, and Bingham said Drood
wasn’t going to split—because you’d saved his life and had
asked him to keep a still tongue between his teeth. Shake,
plebe!” }

“Tt’s a wonder Bingham would tell you a:
taking the hand extended to him.

said Merry,

“Well, he didn’t tell it right off, but I got it, out of him -

before he left.
the window?”
_ “More plebes—Clancy and Kess.”
“Tf they’re your friends, Merriwell, they’re O. K., too.
Hike along. Inspector may show up any minute.”
“All quiet on the Potomac?” | €*
“Lovely. So far, we’re getting out of this a whole lot
ter than I thought we would.”
‘Merry and his two chums softly opened the door and
let themselves into the corridor. The coast was clear,

Who are these two that just came through

hough they could hear the measured tread of the senti- ,

if
_At the top of the stairs leading to their own floor Merri-
well and) Clancy parted with Kess.’
“Dey/vent oudt to shkin us, by ‘shinks,” whispered Vil-
lum, “und dey got shkinned. Dot iss a fine ting to shleep
n, Chip!” ;
“There are not many,hours left before reveille,” said
Frank, “and we've got to do some tall sleeping to make up
the hours we’ve lost. Good night, Villum.”
Quietly Kess vanished inside his room, and as quietly
ferry.and Clancy disappeared into theirs. Neither was
undressing, and Merry stood by the window for a
ent and watched several dark, silent figures climb the
der, Finally the ladder was removed, and faded with
. earers into the darkness.
J{ in, Clancy,” Merry whispered, as he started for
bed. |

hose Fiends are a lucky lot,” was the eg

or she leaves the room.

“even.

if they’re not very jolly. We——” Clancy broke off —
abruptly. “Hustle for the other alcove, Chip,” he mur- —
mured.' “Some one’s coming!”

Frank had hardly rolled into his blankets when the door
opened and an electric torch cast its penciled gleam around
the room. The light rested on the beds in the alcoves
for an instant. Clancy snored.

Usually a sight of the two occupants in their beds would
have aaiai’ the inspector, and he would have gone on;
this time, however, hé, approached carefully and stood
beside Merry’s bed. He put down a hand,

“Ugh!” exclaimed Merriwell, opening hjs eyes.
that ?”

“Inspector,” was the answer. “I wanted to see whether
it was a real man or just a dummy in bed.”

“What’s

”

“No dummy, sir,
ing back a laugh.

“Anything unusual going on here?”

“Rather unusual to have a chat with the inspector at this
time of night, sir, that’s all.”

answeted Frank, with difficulty keep-

\
m

“Humph! ‘There’s been: doings in this wikiup to-night,
Pll bet. I hada tip to be on the lookout. Good night.”

“Good night, sir.”

The door closed. As soon as the inspector had tramped
down the hall, Clancy released a chuckle.

“Who do you suppose tipped off the inspector, Chip?” ie
called softly.

“How should I know, Clan?”

“Well, the tip didn’t do him much good. Why do you
suppose Bing said Drood was keeping still because you
asked him to?” ; .
I'll bet the
Jove, but I was.

“T’m too far gone to answer conundrums. ,
trains will be running over me-all night.
scared!” '

“Is that right?” ee

“Surest thing you know, Red. I was evén toe scared to -
yell. s \
“You couldn’t make the Jolly Fiends believe that.”
“I don’t want to. Good night, old man!”

And Merry was off for the Land of Nod.

THE END.

Again the old deserted farmhouse is the scene of some
exciting incidents. It is not a hazing bee this time, but —

\ an effort on the part of some of Chip Merriwell’s enemies |
to get him into trouble.

Owen Clancy and Kess both
play important parts in the story, which tells of this most —
recent Merriwell escapade. This is chronicled in the story
that you will find in the next issue of this weekly, “Frank —
Merriwell, Junior’s, Quarter Back; or, The Fardale Plot-
ters,” No. 63, out October 11th. If you are not a sub-
scriber, order your New Tir Tor WEEKLY in advance, as.

‘the demand for the weekly is increasing rapidly.

GAMES.

SECOND-sIGHT ACQUAINTANCES.—This game will puzz!
many persons not in the secret. Some one familiar with
the game waits and notices who speaks last, before he
In his or her absence, the con
federate shakes hands with this person, when the absentee
is summoned back, and shakes hands with the same perso

 
 

20 NEW TIP

Eartu, Ate, Fire, aNp WAter.—In this game, the party
sit in a circle; one throws a handkerchief at another, and
calls out “Air!”
must call eagle, vulture, lark, seamew, partridge, woodcock,

The person whom the handkerchief -hits
snipe, or some other bird belonging to the air, before the
caller can count ten, which he does in a loud voice, and
creature who does not live in

as fast as possible. If a

the air is named, or if the person fails to speak quick
enough, a forfeit must be paid.
the handkerchief throws it to another, in turn, and calls
out “Earth!”
phant, horse, dog, cat, mouse, guinea pig, ox, or any other

The person who catches
The person who is hit must call out ele-

creature which lives upon the earth, in the same space of
time as allowed before. Then throw the handkerchief to
another, and call out “Water !”
handkerchief observes the same rules as the preceding,

The one who catches the

and is liable ‘to the same forfeits, unless they call out im-
mediately, trout, mackerel, herring, sole, or the name of
some fish that/lives in the water. Any one who mentions
a bird, beast, or fish twice is likewise liable to a forfeit.
If any player calls “Fire,” every one must keep silence,
because no creature lives in that element.

FOOLS OF THE DARK.

By C. C. WADDELL.

CHAPTER Tf.
A FATHER’S COMMAND,

Resplendent in the gorgeous: uniform of the Austrian
Imperial Guard, Lieutenant Franz Josef Maximillian Cheg-
nay stood in the hallway of his father’s house, his fresh,
boyish face clouded with apprehensive misgivings, his hand
rapping his riding whip nervously against the side of his
high, tasseled boot.

He had entered the house gayly enough a few moments
before, running up the marble steps to the mansion with
a light song upon his lips, his round astrakhan cap set
jauntily upon his head, his gold-braided dolman thrown
rakishly over one shoulder, and his tight-fitting, blue
jacket and scarlet trousers displaying the graceful strength
of his supple figure.

But now his light-hearted humor was all gone,
mother had met him at the door.

His

“Franz,” she had said, laying her hands upon his shoul-
ders as he bent to kiss her, “your father wishes to see you
in the library.
as, you came home.
maternal anxiety in her tone, “do be careful what you
say to him. He is evidently very angry.”

He said you were to come to him as soon

,

Oh, my son,” there was a pleading,

Even to an American scapegrace, the summons to a
half hour’s interview with the “governor” does not offer
a particularly enchanting prospect; but that occasion is as
nothing compared to a similar ordeal’ in an Austrian
household, where the father rules as with a rod of iron.

Moreover, Franz was pretty well cognizant of the espe-
cial offense for which he was to be called to book; and
he was by no means anxious to discuss its rather senti-
mental details with the cynical old general—to swbject, as
it were, his ardent, \glowing heart to a shower bath of
coid, merciless. sarcasm,

—

Ge

WEEKLY.

True, there was nothing to be ashamed of in his little

4

romance; quite the

contrary, indeed, for Chegnay was a
clean, chivalric young fellow, and his attentions to the
girl had been of the most honorable character.

But her social position was so far beneath his own, her
that not
help wincing when his sire applied to her, and to the

connections so assailable, Franz’s pride could

boy’s relations with her, the lash of that stinging, mocking
ridicule, of which the old gentleman was past master.

Vanna Ezhoff was a wild, gypsy little thing, who had
come up from the streets, and, cherishing the ambition
to become an actress, had finally secured a position in one
of the theatrical companies.

Shy, awkward, and untrained, she had little to recom-
mend her save her strange, unusual beauty; and, although
this had afforded her the chance of filling several minor
positions, she had been able to show nothing in her work
which could permit even the most favorable of critics
in prophesying any future for her upon the stage.

She might be without talent, perhaps; she may have
overestimated her aptitude for the career she had chosen;
but, at any rate, she proved that she had a plucky heart
in her breast, and a very independent head upon her
shoulders.
the gilded youths of the capital of-
fortunes with the managers; but she

More than one of
fered to further her
shrewdly saw the significance of these advances, and re-
buffed them all, announcing that she proposed to sink or
swim solely by the merit of her own efforts. Hence
among the habitués of the clubs and cafés she had been
popularly dubbed “the Icicle.”

Despite the indifferent attitude of the lady, however, her
beauty was so alluring’ that some of the moths still: buzzed
about: her flame attempting to force their admiration upon
her, whether she would.or not; and one night an especially
reckless young blade actually endeavored to seize her by
force and carry her away in his carriage.

The affair occurred on a lonely side street through which
way home from the theater; but
by a fortunate chance. young Chegnay happened to be

she had to pass .on her

in the vicinity, and, hearing the sounds of the struggle,
hastened to the scene.

A heated colloquy ensued between the two men, fol-
lowed by a brief bit of swordplay, for both were in uni-
form; and then the discomfited abductor was hauled away
to a surgeon’s with a nasty thrust through, his shoulder,
while his victorious antagonist escorted the rescued maiden
to her own door,

After this, it was only natural that Franz Josef should
desire to see more of the girl; only nattiral, also, that she,
not wishing to have him come to the poor garret where she
and her father lived, should meet him outside, permitting
him to stroll with her through the parks on sunny after-
noons, and to accompany her to‘and from the theater.

It was a perfectly harmless little idyl, all sentiment and
pure devotion like an old Arthurian legend; but the gos-
siping world, of course, misconstrued it, and soon a garbled
report of the affair reached the ears of gid General
Chegnay.

That stern autocrat, fearing to see his son’s promising
career ruined untimely by a scandal, declined to listen to
either demurrer or explanation from the boy; but flatly
forbade any further philandering with the lovely gypsy.

ee

 

 
NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

,

CHAPTER II,
THE BROKEN SWORD.

_ Franz Josef, as he stood in the hall rapping nervously
- at his riding boot, knew that he was about to be taken
to task for flagrant disobedience, and his soul quailed
sf within he thought of the terms his father
might use in the impending interview, the scornful op-
probrium that bitter tongue would heap upon his divinity.
At last, however, he nerved himself to make the plunge,
‘ and, stepping quickly across the hall, knocked gently on
‘the closed door of the library.
~ “Come in,’ said a harsh, metallic voice; and Franz,
once more, calling up all his reserves of resolution, en-
tered. His father rose ceremoniously to greet him.
General Chegnay was a tall man, and, despite his years,
as straight as an arrow. Never relaxing his devotion to
‘strict military rule, he had even now, in the seclusion of
his own apartments, his uniform coat buttoned tight up to
‘the chin, and his sword buckled at his side.
Having once been told that he resembled his imperial
‘master in appearance, it pleased him to wear the long,
white side whiskers so typical of the reigning Haps-
burg.
_ Franz Josef saluted him stiffly, and toad at attention.
“You sent for me, sir?” he inquired. He could not
_ quite overcome a slight tremor in his voice.
“T did,” frigidly. Then coming directly to the point:
You have been walking with that woman again?”
“But, father——” interposed the lad éagerly.
_ The old man silenced him with an imperious gesture.
_*T know all that you would say—that you are doing
no harm; that the girl is a model of virtue; and that
you merely take a friendly interest in her. For the sake
f argument, we will grant it. But that, sir, does not
make her the proper associate for a Chegnay. At the best,
.¢ is a third-rate performer, who will never rise higher
han her,present position; and her family and associates
\

him, when

That, however,”*he went on, even more severely, “is not
the point I wished to make just now; but to call your

tention to a much more er sine I ordered you

“Who told you any such thing?” he temporized.
“That matters not. I have it on authority which I am
ot at liberty to doubt.”

Franz made a fatal mistake.

“Nevertheless,” he muttered, his eyes sinking to the floor,
have been misinformed. I have not seen Miss Ez-
ince you laid your commands: upon me.”
incl man made two quick steps toward him,
hat?” the demanded incredulously, “You deny that
ere walking with her this very afternoon?”

young man vainly strove to meet. the. glance of
tern eyes, but failed. ae voice was hardly more

;, father,” he faltered. ” “Whoever told you such’ a
aS mistaken.” )

_ The pepe in the old general’s torie “was
“I saw, you’ with her

and ordered some coffee.

with the back of it smote his son squarely across
fips:

“Let that teach you,’
the truth.”

Franz started up at the blow, his face livid, his eyes
terrible with anger. He sobbed hysterically, and with
shaking fingers fumbled at his sword hilt. Then in a
measure he regained control of himself. He drew himself
up, and gave back his father glance for glance.

“You have two claims upon me, sir,” he said, in a voice
low and tense, “either of which prevents me from drawing
my sword upon you. You are my father and my superior
officer. Were it not for those two facts, J would have
spitted you just now as I would a rat. The opportunity
to abase me, however, shall never be yours again. Here-—
with, I leave your roof, and renounce all ties of blood
between us; and herewith I resign my commission, and re-
turn to you the weapon you have ‘Setorced me as a soldier
to dishonor.” f

With the words, he drew his $word from its scabbard,
snapped the blade across his knee, and tossed the two
pieces scornfully at his father’s feet.

Then, without another word, or even another tock: in

“he added grimly, “to try and tell

the direction of the elder man, he turned sharply upon his —

heel and strode out of the room and from the house.

CHAPTER IIT.
A HASTY DECISION,

For a time Franz Josef hardly knew in which direction
he was walking. He forged furiously ahead, his glance
turning neither to the right nor left, heedless alike of
the bows of the ladies rolling by/in their carriages, and —
of the salutes of acquaintances passing him on the street
or hailing him from the doorways of resorts and restau-
rants. His brain was seething in a heavy tempest of re-—
sentment,

To think that he, a grown man and an officer in the Im-
perial Guards; more than that, a scion of the ancient house
of Chegnay—had been struck across the face as though be:
had been a eee ebutt:

Even if he had 1
father had seen him with was not Vanna Ezhoff—what —
right had his father to presume to strike him? or

The memory of that blow burned across his face like |
the brand of a red-hot iron. And yet he could not resent
it. He was barred from demanding the satisfaction his
profession and tradition required should be exacted. ‘Oh,
it was galling, maddening to his pride!

At length, however, the ‘storm of his indignant wrath ©
somewhat spent itself, and he came in a measure to him
self. It had been the early afternoon when his inter-
view with his father had taken place; now the dusk was
beginning to settle along the thoroughfares, and the street
lights were commencing to come out.

He slackened his strenuous pace and glanced down de
himself. Why, he must have been walking for hours; —
his polished boots were dusty, his trim uniform disar
ranged. He felt tired, fagged out, as though he we bee
through a month’s hard campaigning. ’

He dropped into a little eating house close at a
Over it he gave ome
the first time to his future movements.

ne career in ‘the army, the ‘profession to which ]

 
NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

always been dedicated,- was ended now, of course; and
he must seek some other occupation in life.

Still, it cannot be said that the prospect particularly
appalled him. He had to confess that he was utterly
untrained for any commercial vocation; but with the happy
optimism of youth he decided that something suitable
would turn up} some sort of a remunerative billet must
undoubtedly be open to him.

At any rate, he was free;
prices, no longer having to bend his will to that of the
imperious ol€ man who had attempted to rule his life;
free to take Vanna as his wife whenever and as soon as
he pleased.

No fairer, sweeter, more unspoiled creature than she had
ever trod the earth! Why, royalty itself might well be
proud to receive her into its circle! Yet this petty-
minded, hidebound old aristocrat presumed to

Ah, an inspiration! He knew how to take a fitting re-
venge upon his father, and at the same time gratify the
dearest wish of his own heart. He would marry this
girl lof the people, bestow upon her the proud Chegnay
name.

He would do it now, to-night, at once! With this con-
clusion, he slapped his hand down so hard upon the table
that the glasses jingled and all the rest of the occu-
pants of the place turned around in their seats to look at
_ him.

CHAPTER IV.

\
AT VANNA’S DOOR.

"

Imbued with this determination, he quickly called for
his bill, paid it, and with a defiant twist to his incipient
mustaches and a belligerent lift to his shoulder swaggered
forth from the restaurant and set his face toward the ob-
scuire quarter of the town where Miss Ezhoff lodged.

She would be at home totnight, he knew, for she had
no part in the attraction then running at the theater, and
she had told him that she never went elsewhere in the
evenings.

True, she might be a bit displeased that he should have
sought her out, for he had readily penetrated the pur-
pose of the excuses by which she had hitherto prevented
him from seeing the dire poverty in which she lived; but
a few moments’ conversation, an explanation of his pis
would settle all that.

What difference did it make, anyway, lived
now, when he was going immediately to take her away
_ from it all—away from the dirt, and squalor, and misery of
her {condition ; away from the old stepfather, Gordyeff,
whom she hated, and who often, as.she had once con-
fessed to Chegnay, beat her because she was able to earn
so little.

“Yes,” the snuffy old concierge answered, who appeared
at the grating of Vanna’s lodgings, in response to his ring;

“the fraulein is at home. If the honorable Herr Lieu-
tenant will condescend to mount to the top floor, and
knock at the third door on the right, he will undoubtedly
find her.” — '

how she

The Herr Lieutenant waited for no further permission.

y Quickly he entered and lightly he sprang up the steep suc-
cession of dark, dingy flights, his heart swelling in his
breast as he reflected that when he descended those stairs

she would be by his side, never to be separated from him

any more,

free to follow His own ca-.

Breathlessly he made the journey; but, arriving at the
top, halted, and scanned the doorways opening to right
and left-of the passage. The third to the right, the con-
cierge had said? That must be it, then; the door slightly
ajar, from which streamed out a shaft of brilliant, white
light athwart the, gloom of the hall. :

Franz Josef stepped toward the open portal and lifted —
his hand to knock. But suddenly he stiffened, and paused, :
arrested in the attitude, as though he had all at once
been turned to stone. q

His uplifted arm remained rigid; he did not move a
muscle; only his eyes grew wide and horrified. It was -
as though all his faculties were for the time being con-
centrated in the one sense of sight. ‘

Small wonder! Through the open crevice of the nana
and under an illumination so intense as to preclude the pos-
sibility of an error of vision, a scene was displayed which
might well shock the beholder into astonishment and shud-
dering dismay.

Upon the farther side of the bare, scantily favadated i

room, and directly in the line of his gaze, stood a tumbled, —
miserable couch, and on it was stretched out the recum- —
bent figure of an old, white-bearded man.

At first glance one might have thought him sleeping; .

but the most casual second inspection was enough to dispel

any such illusion. His head was twisted unnaturally over —
upon one shoulder, so that it faced the door, and Cheg- a
nay could plainly see the eyes wide, staring open, a fixed
expression of terror upon the distorted lineaments.

It was the look one notes upon the face of one who has
met a ‘violent end, before the features have had time to.
compose themselves into the serene dignity of death.

But it was not this spectacle
which had so completely enchained the watcher’s
tion with a sort of fascinated horror,

His gaze centered itself rather upon the slight, dark-—
robed figure of Vanna Ezhoff, leaning above the ped eS
an attitude that was unmistakable. ‘ i

Her pose, her bearing, every line of her tense body be-
spoke an implacable hate, a cruel, tigeresslike fury—told it
as vyvidly as though it had been shrieked aloud. ;

alone, gruesome as it» was,
atten-

CHAPTER YV.
A CONFESSION OF MURDER.

Even while he looked, she-raised her right hand, a gleam- |
ing knife clenched in her, fingers, and drove the keen
blade down into the breast of the unfeeling clay before
her.

‘Chegnay strove to move, to call out; but his limbs eee ;
paralyzed with horror, his tongue refused to do his a
ding. bd

At last the woman stayed her hand, and stood silent,

gazing down upon the still form of her victim. There —
was, however, no softening in her aspect, no evidence —
of regret or pity in the posture that she held. 4

Disturbed by some slight noise, perhaps by an involun-
tary movement on the part of the unseen spectator in the |
hall, she turned from the contemplation of her handi

work, and, whirling quickly about, stood in the ee o

challenging defiance before the bed.

The light fell squarély upon her upturned face, and
he looked Franz Josef felt that never until his dying
would he be able to blot from his memory the recol
tion of that countenance.

 
tne es”

 

ee

NEW

Tt was not only the recklessness of it which so shocked
him, the utter of contrition; but
there was also displayed upon it a spirit of the most ex-

absence of any sort
ultant ferocity that one could imagine in a human ex-
pression.

Her lips were drawn back’ from the even raws of her
firm, white teeth; her delicately chiseled nostrils were dis-
tended and fluttering; her dark eyes blazed a phosphores-
cent green, her bosom heaved and panted, her long, dark
hair streamed unbound down about her graceful shoul-
ders.

Franz Josef had but one impulse—to get away, to shut
that horrible vision out of his sight. She must not see
him, must not know that he had been there.

Aghast and trembling, he stole to the head. of the stairs

5?

and staggered somehow down the long flights and through

the silent streets,

In the course of his aimless wanderings, he finally
came to a little park with an iron railing about it. Seat-
ing himself on the projecting this miniature
face in his hands and gave full

coping ‘of
stockade, he buried his
sweep to his torturing reflections.

A far more effectual bar than the old general's pro-
hibition had now been raised to any thought of a union
With the beautiful gypsy.

He could almost have forgiven her for the killing of
her malevolent stepfather—having the memory of his own
quick temper to plead for her, and recalling what she had
told him of the indignities she had been made to’ suffer
—he. could have excused her for that.

But . the she had
fairly reveled in her act.

He shuddered at the thought.
he loved her; he loved her!

Then’ suddenly he lifted his head, with a new concern

inhuman rancor shown. She had

And still, he loved her;

and horror in his eyes.

Hitherto he had been thinking solely of hiniself, of
the changes which this night must effect in his own hopés
and feelings. But how about her? How about the re-
sult which must inevitably follow fast upon her deed of
blood?

She could not hope to conceal her crime. With her
lack of resources and the ingenuousness of her tempera-
ment, it were folly to dream that she might be able to
escape.

No; she would undoubtedly be captured red-handed,
she would be tried, convicted, and No, no; that must
He must never allow that!

 

never be!

Impulsive as ever, Chegnay rose to his feet with a quick
determination and hastened to his club, and, hollow-eyed,
his face drawn and lined, sought the deserted writing
room.

There he hurriedly indited two notes and handed them
to a Waiting messenger whom he had had summoned,

“Make no mistake,” he charged the boy; “this one is to
be delivered to Miss Vanna Ezhoff at once—at once, mind
you. The other you are to hand to the commissary of
police not sooner than ten o’clock to-morrow morning.”

Then he.called a cab and had himself driven rapidly to
the railway station, where he arrived just in time to catch
the night train to Berlin.

The next morning the commissary of police received, to
his surprise and consternation, a missive in which Franz
Josef Maximillian Chegnay, late lieutenant in the Im-

Io

WEEKLY. 23
perial Guards, formally accused himself of the murder
of one Anton Gordyeff, and fully set forth all the details
of his crime, together with the motives and circumstances
which had led up to it,

And two days later the.self-confessed murderer, dis-
guised ag an ordinary Hungarian emigrant, took passage at
Hamburg in the steerage of one of the big ocean liners
bound for New York.

CHAPTER VI.
HERMAN GLENROY.

The races were over for the day at the Dighton track
near New York, and a pushing crowd streamed out of the
gates of the inclosure to seek refreshment and new recréa-
tion at the big summer hotel across the way.

Bob

Herman Glenroy,,a popular clubman, who had met a few

Farnum, the well-known theatrical manager, and
moments before in the. maelstrom of the betting ring,
joined the procession, and, elbowing a passage for them-
selves up the thronged steps of the overgrown caravansary,
made their way among the fast-filling tables on the long
piazza, until finally they secured a position of advantage
next the railing, where there was naught between to inter-
cept their view of the beautiful prospect spread before
them.

A well-kept lawn, intersected with smooth walks, and
dotted” here and there with a trim bed of glowing, scar-
let geraniums, stretched to the sea wall against which the
lazy ripples of the ocean; almost as smooth and calm now
as a mill pond, beat with only a faint, lulling murmur.

Despite the fact that the race track, only a few mo-
ments before throbbing with the thunder of straining
hoofs and the shouts of frenzied spectators, was just
across the way, there was nevertheless an atmosphere of
satisfying restfulness about the scene, for the ocean has a
dignity of its own which all the vulgarities man has been
able to fashion cannot serve to’ belittle.

Glenroy leaned his arm upon the railway, and gazed
in silent appreciation out over the broad expanse of sunlit
water.

He was recalled to the present and to the practica-
bilities by Farnum.

‘What are you goin’ to have, old man?” questioned that
fat and unctuous impresario of foreign stars.

Farnum could prate glibly enough of “Art for Art’s
sake,” whenever he might think that it would serve his
purpose; but, as a matter of fact, the
outweighed with him all the esthetic
were ever formulated.

“Oh, I don’t care,” responded his companion indif-
ferently, returning to his dreamy contemplation: of na-
ture. “Whatever you want.”

“Well, I’m free to confess that this sea air has given
me a fouch of appetite,’ observed Farnum, solicitously
consulting the bill of fare, “Some broiled chicken on
toast, now; how would that suit you?”

As Glenroy gave a little nod of assent, he turned
consequentially to the waiter, who was leaning forward
with attentive ear,

“Make it broiled chicken, then, my boy, a double por-
tion; and see that it’s chickens you bring up, too, and
not sparrows. And, say, bring us a bottle of wine with
’em. Tell Johnny it’s for Mr. Farnum, and he'll know
what to give you.

turn of a beefsteak
considerations that

 

 
 

24 NEW TIP
calling the waiter back; “you
want to know,” with a fat chuckle, “that [’m a great
stickler for the golden rule. Accordin’ as you do for
us, so you'll be done by, when~it comes to Settlin’ time.
You dagoes get warm under the collar if we don’t regu-
larly come down with a fifty-per-cent tip for you; but you
don’t always/earn it. Not by a darn sight.”

The exordium was so manifestly for the ears of those
around, in an effort to impress them with the speaker’s
importance, rather than for his own benefit, that the waiter,
even while his eye flashed at the gratuitous insult, let his
lip curl in a smile of amused contempt.

He merely glanced indifferently at the man, then without
making any response turned on his heel and hurried off
about his, business.

Farnum occupied himself for a few moments with an
evening paper which he bought from a newsboy; but after
he had perused the headlines and the entries for the mor-
row’s races, his interest waned, and he finally threw it
aside.

Then he glanced about over stip surrounding tables;
but, seeing no one that he knew, or who appeared at all
concerned by the fact that he was the great Mr. Farnum,
he turned at length in desperation to his silent companion.

Glenroy, still absorbed in his reverie, was gazing wist-
fully out over the sea, and the other, thinking to coincide
with the trend of his thotights, broke in with a genial
appreciation.

“Pretty view, ain’t it?” he remarked loquaciously. ‘And
something doin’, besides. That’s what I like about it.
Now, I’m as strong for the purely beautiful as the next
one; but I want to have the crowd with me while I’m en-
joyin’ it. I want to have it, like it is here, with little
tables around, and folks eatin’ and drinkin’, and the band
playin’.. It kind of livens things up for me, something like
the bitters in a cocktail.

“Now this,” squaring comfortably back in his chair and
lighting a long, black cigar, “this blue sky, and, the people
sitting out in the open, eating and laughing and smoking,
sort of reminds me of Trieste. Or, no; not of Trieste
exactly, either. If there was any ocean there, it’d be more
like Vi-enna. Ever been in Vi-enna, Glenroy?”

The other man, who had been listening only absently,
turned now sharply at the question.

“What in the world-ever put Vienna into your mind,
Farnum?” he demanded. Then, smiling at his own vehe4
mence: “Could it have been a telepathic thought wave
that happened to strike us both at the same moment? I,
too, was just now dreaming of Vienna.” . \

“And see here, my boy,”

CHAPTER VII.
THE MAN BEHIND THE APRON,

The waiter by this time had returned with their order,
and was now deftly arranging the dishes about the board.
Farnum brightened up at once, partly at the prospect of
approaching food, partly at the signs of a returning inter-
est in things mundane on the part of his companion. The
manager had small stomach for merely abstract musings.
“Well, I don’t know what put Vienna into your head,”
he responded to Glenroy’s question; “but I know jolly
well what hauled it into mine. I got a little, old cable-
gram from there this morning that has kept me chuckling
to myself all day long.
‘“Of*course, it’s a dead secret for a while yet,” he went

’

TOP WEEKLY

on, leaning confidently across the table; “but I don’t mind
letting you know, old man. I cinched a contract fot an
American tour next season with Ezhoff.”

“Vanna Ezhoff coming to America!” exclaimed Glen-
roy. “Why, how i

He broke off abruptly; for just at that moment, by an
unguarded sweep of his arm, the waiter turned over the
platter of greasy chicken’ and deposited the contents
squarely in Farnum’s lap.

The portly manager sprang to his feet, gazing a second
in speechless consternation at the havoc which had been
wrought to the immaculate glory of his new pearl-gray
suit; then he uncorked the vials of his wrath upon the
luckless waiter.

“You clumsy lout!” he bellowed.
ery hash slinger! Just look what you’ve done!\ No; get
away from me; you’re smearing it worse than ever,” as the
servitor hurriedly attempted to brush him off. “Get out,
I say!” and he pushed the fellow back with a slap across
the side of the head.

The blow seemed to work a magic transformation in
the man. His deferential, obsequious bearing dropped from
him like a cloak. He straightened up with a military click
to his heels, his face pale to the lips, his eyes alight with

 

“You blundering, Bow-

 

a somber fire. Glenroy noticed that involuntarily, his
right hand sprang toward his left hip.

“Blackguard!” he cried fiercely to Farnum. “You
dare——”

Glenroy especially hated notoriety of any kind. People

round about were Tising in their seats and craning curi-
ously.

He thrust himself between the two infuriated men.

“Do not be rash,” he whispered French in the ear
of the waiter. “I apologize on behalf of that fool.”

Toward Farnum he wa

“You are making an ass of yourself, Bob,” he muttered
catching Farnum by the shoulders and forcing
him down into his seat. “You can’t afford to get into
a row here. After all, it was an accident, and the fellow
was only trying to help you.”

“Well, I don’t care,” grumbled Farnum, his rage gradu-
ally subsiding. “It’s enough to make anybody mad. The
idea of a supposedly first-class employing , such
cattle. Here’s a suit that dollars ;
and now it’s absolutely ruined,” at the
grease-spattered wreck.

“Oh, it’s not really hurt, Bob,” Glenroy soothingly re-
assured him. “You can easily enough have it cleaned.
Forget it now, and send another: order for dinner.
Where.has that waiter of ours gone to, I wonder?” turn-
ing about in his chair.

1s less ceremonious.

sternly,

place
eighty-five
ruefully

cost me

gazing

in

“Not that idiot for me a second time,” hastily amended
Farnum. “I: want a boy that knows a little something
about waiting. Here, call old Thomas from over there,
He’s through with that push at‘ the round table; and I
know that he’s onto his job.” He beckoned eagerly to
an old stand-by of his, who was just bowing away a pare
from a table a few feet distant.

Nor did old Thomas disappoint the encomiums passed
upon him. In due course of time the repast they had or-
dered was served and discussed without further mishap.

Then the two men entered an automobile, and were
whirled across the salt meadows and over the level Long
Island roads back to the great city.

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NEW

Farnum, oblivious now to his recent catastrophe, and re-
stored to good humor, enlivened the journey with his
picturesque conversation; but his companion was strangely
inattentive and silent.

“Why,” was the question which was engrossing Glenroy’s
thoughts, ‘ ‘is a man who has been an officer in the Aus-

trian army serving as a waiter at the Dighton Hotel?

“And why,” he further speculated, “should the name of
Vanna Ezhoff have so agitated him that it caused him to
overturn that dish?”

TO BE CONTINUED.

‘A NIGHT ON THE PRAIRIE.

By AMY ALLEN.

“Come, Cousin Ned, tell us a story—do; one of your
wild Western tales, just suited to such a night as this,”
and my Sister Minnie drew her chair closer to the cheerily

lowing grate as she spoke, and glanced shudderingly out
into the storm and darkness of the night.

Cousin Ned, the son of my father’s only brother, was
spending the winter with his friends in the East; and the
wild, thrilling stories of his adventures in the Far West,
with which he frequently entertained us, were always
eagerly listened to; for Ned had a peculiarly graphic ‘and
ardent manner of relating scenes and incidents, which
would have rendered any story interesting, however tame
in the abstract; and, as he had, in accordance with the

_ roving instincts of his mind, traveled over many a long

ile, and been considerably “mixed up,” as. he said, with
the wild animals, and scarcely less wild Indians, of those
régions, we were always sure, when we could get him

on that “tack,” of a decidedly interesting time. So °

rhe n Minnie proposed a story, there was a general outcry

mong us all, of “Do, Ned; there’s a good boy!” and

“Come, now; hurrah for.a story!” At which Ned only

miled, and said, as his eyes instinctively followed Min-

nie’s out into the whirling storm and dreariness without,
ich partially closed curtains revealed:

“T think I can tell you a story wild enough, if you wish
mething which happened to me on just such a night
his.”
settled myself comfortably back in my easy-chair, in
diness for the story, and Ned began: .

‘One winter, not many years ago, having some business
arrange in N——, and, as I had also an old friend re-

of the next day, when I prepared to go; and. while
trying to stow myself amid the buffaloes in the most

re, Ned, you must take home some of this nice
n el killed day oor selene unless, indeed, you

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

““No, indeed,’ said I; ‘for, as you see, I am well armed
with my good knife and revolver, and Dolly is as swift
of foot as a deer.’

“*Yes, I see. Well, good-by, and take care of your-
self,’ said he cheerily, as I drew the reins and whistled to
Dolly.

“*Good-by,’ I rejoined, and away we went. As I
emerged from the thick growth of timberiin which Roberts
lived, a little to the south and east of the village, I be-
came aware that the sky was hidden with thick cloudé, and

, that a snowstorm was evidently approaching. The pros-

pect was not a very cheering one to me; and Dolly, as if
she shared my thoughts, darted away with increased speed,
until my light sleigh fairly flew over the gleaming snow;
but before we had gone one-fourth of the distance, how-
ever, the snow came down in a copious shower, increas-
ing in volume until it seemed a perfect avalanche, and I
could\ see scarcely three feet ahead. Such a storm as that
was is unusual even in those regions, and for a time it
seemed to me that my prospects for reaching my destina-
tion that night seemed doubtful. But Dolly did so bravely,
struggling on through the fast-increasing snow, that I
began to flatter myself that I should reach home by dark,
after all, when, just as we cleared the edge of a dark
forest of oak that lay to the right, a distant, dismal, and
prolonged howl smote upon my ear, coming from the very
heart of the forest.

““Good heavens! the wolves!’ I exclaimed, and at the

_ words Dolly pricked up her ears, and plunged ahead.

“Had the roads been clear I should have had no fear
of them, but now the great drifts of snow lay heaped all
along the way, so that we with difficulty progressed at all;
and now the rapidly increasing chorus of howls that
sotinded sharply at intervals, approaching nearer and
nearer, excited my feelings to perfect dismay.

“*Heaven save us!’ I exclaimed, urging my noble little
animal to her utmost, who was indeed already straining ™
every nefve, tearing and plunging through the snow as
if she understood how much depended upon her efforts.
Ere long the yelping, cowardly pack were in sight, and,
looking back, I counted full a score of them, as they Came
on, bounding and leaping over the snow.

“But Dolly had; now reached a clearer space; niches
wind swept the prairie, and we began to gain on them per-
ceptibly. I thought of the venison, and tossed it to them
in the hope of staying their progress, if only for a mo-
ment; but they had no sooner reached it than it was torn
in a dozen pieces, and on they came, fiercer than ever. I

saw there was no hope of trying to escape by flight, for

they were already but a few rods in our rear, and still
gaining. But there was a small oak tree a short distance
ahead, whose branches bent low over the road, and here I
determined to take refuge, and let Dolly escape, if she
could. I clasped my knife firmly in my hand and bent over
the sleigh. Nearer and nearer came the ravenous pack,
close in rear of the sleigh, snapping their long, sharp teeth.
But the tree also was close at hand. A moment more,
and with two sharp strokes Dolly was free from the
sleigh, and with her harness rattling about her heels, she
went plunging on, while I, laying hold with: desperate —
strength upon the limbs of the tree, swung myself clear of —
the ground, and in a second was safely lodged in the —
Awe ‘Bat I was scarcely — off than before, for :

 
‘NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

the sharp, cold winds from the prairie blew with cutting

force against me, and the snow still fell, though in lighter
volume than before, |

“That was a terrible night for me,” said Ned,
clusion, “for the villainous pack kept me treed; yelping and
howling under me all night, till the coming light dispersed
them, when I came down from my lodge and proceeded
home as fast as I was able, where I found Dolly, and the
good people of the house in a state bordering on distrac-

tion at my nonappearance.”

con-

AN ARMLESS ARTIST.

In Antwerp, that singularly gifted and singularly un-
fortunate artist, Charles Felu, may still be seen at work
copying the masterpieces of ancient art. Born without
arms, in 1830, at Warmaerede, in Flanders, his natural in-
stincts led him to throw over his employment and to take
to painting as the serious object of his life. (Overcoming
withthe greatest perseverance the enormous difficulty of
his want of arms, at the present day he may be seen
painting the most delicate subject, ‘with Dutchlike detail,
with his feet.

Standing, he is helpless; but sitting on a stool in his
studio, his easel grasped by the left big toe, and the right
toes holding the brush, just as the right hand does, it is
difficult to realize that Charles Felu is not as other men.
Tall in stature, and with a clean-shaven, intelligent. face,
the painter strikes one as a man of rare sympathetic feel-
ing and considerable education. -

His intimate friends will tell you that a kinder and more
affectionate man lives not. He wears slippers, and imme-
diately on entering his house, which is kept spotlessly clean,
. changes his outdoor shoes in the hall. Gray woolen socks
partially cover his feet, leaving his toes free to act as
gloveless hands.

Reversing the usual order, he stands in the hall to take
off his shoes, and sits in his studio to take off his hat.
A stool, about two feet and a half high, placed outside
each door of his house, enables him to shut and open them.
He has, besides copying the old masters in the museum,
painted many portraits. beh

Monsieur Felu has become such a Cor cinental celebrity —

that he now never paints on the free days at the museum.
He is simply mobbed by curious sight-seers when he does.

\
}

FICTION AND FACT.
There is rarely a circumstance or character invented by

the imagination that does not) find its parallel in real life.

_A-year or more ago a writer described in a story the ad-
ventures and vicissitudes of an erring lad who ran away
from home to follow the sea. The tale was pure fiction,

and the author invented for his young sailor a name unlike |

any he had ever heard.

Soon after the story was published its author received a
- pathetic letter from a sorrowing mother, saying that the
sailor boy of the story was her only son, and begging for
his address.
Tell him,”

she wrote, “if he will only come home, I will
forget and forgive all the past.

I am alone in the world,

and if my, rae son will but return to me I will be happy

en

zone

boy of the story, ‘whose name, adventures, and life sO
closely resembled her son’s was but a creature of the im-
agination. mn

“While addressing a jury in a criminal case a few years
ago,” Said a lawyer, “I made up the
illustrate
condemning a ae

“A. passenger train was pulling into the station of a
small town. The driver had seen many years of continu-
Ous service on
failed to stop his engine at a certain point.

“One day a great celebration was held in the town, se
when that train came in, the line ahead of the point whete: =
the engine always stopped was crowded with people. No
one feared being run over,.so great was the confidence
in the driver’s ability to stop his engine at a particiilag
spot.

“But, alas! on this day the heavy train was not dinoee: ;
but continued its course, running over a woman, who,
hampered with a baby ‘in her arms, was not agile enoug
to get out of the way. At first the crowd stood aghast
and then a great wave of indignation broke forth agains
the man who had done this thing. cd ie

“The driver stood on his step, white and speechless
helpless against the fury of the mob.

“Wait! cried the fireman.’ ‘See this!’ and he held ti
a broken bolt. ‘Here is the cause of the accident—abro
bolt at the throttle.’

“I believe that I won my case with that little bit
fiction, and what do you think? After the court had» ad-
journed, a. gray-haired old gentleman came fcrwerSy a 1
grasping my hand, exclaimed:

man,

that particular bit of ‘line,

“‘You told that story well! I was in that crowd
the time of the accident, and saw the whole thing.”

TRAINING FOR A RUNNER.

Remembering that it is the “staying man” }
wins the race, your efforts should be directed to the m
of sustaining the/ stayitig powers. The pedestri
usually gives way at the chest. The object of the t
is to get the muscles into such a condition as will «

fit.

not too far at first, but gradually increasing the

In the summer, six in the morning

first thing is the bath, either plunge or sponge. “Rub °
well with a hard, diy: towel. Some recommend a shor :
walk before breakfast; but, perhaps a cup of tea ae

egg beaten up in it is the best preparation for the v

If the eens be dull or rainy,

then a gent sha

ual put the bay in «tore sc the eee exercise.

_ distance, and a little more, fixed for the race, thr

four times a aes There is much less feateiee as re

tet as your eas, anid? arcbahis-y you will show ye
to-your opponent when eon breast the

 

following story to ~ ;
the need of coolness and calm judgment before

and had never, oe
NEW TIP TOP. WEEKLY,

NE Wo FieMS OF INTEREST.

 

Killed Twelve Thousand Deet in a Year.
According to reports just compiled by William R. Oates,
State game warden, Michigan has 60,000 deer running wild
within its boundaries.
In 1912 there were 72,000, but hunters killed 12,000 last
winter. Deer were found in forty counties, but have dis-
appeared completely in twenty counties. As a result of the

report, legislation may limit to one the number of deer
that a hunter may kill.

Slit-skirt Girl Driven Out.

A fine of $25 and orders to leave the city of Richmond,
Va., was the punishment Judge Crutchfield imposed in the
case Of Blossom Browning, the attractive girl who startled

Mayor Ainslie and Chief of Police Werner when she ap-

peared on the streets wearing a slit skirt. The girl left

Richmond for some seaside resort.

_ Miss Browning set up the plea in court that the slit
in her skirt had been tacked with basting thread, and that

the stitches ripped. The mayor and the police chief were

the main witnesses against her. She paid the fine with-

out comment. [

Herb Drives Indians Insane.

Ki? Congressman John J. Esch, of La Crosse, Wis., says he
will at once renew a movement for an appropriation to
suppress peyote eating among the Winnebago Indians in

ern Wisconsin.

Reports received from Black River Falls tell of wild

rgies by the redskins, often ending in unconsciousness

ich lasts two and three days. Many cases of insanity
1ong the Indians are said to be due to peyote eating.

The eating of this herb is supposed to be part of the In-

ians’ Seen belief. p

_ . Giel Mail Carrier on Mountain Route.
Floe Brown, a bright girl, fifteen years of age, carries
daily mail from the little town of Henderson, in Baxter
unty, Arkansas, to) Bakersfield, in Ozark County, Mis-
i, a distance of-fifteen miles, and return. She is one
B even sisters, daughters of Asa, Brown, and all have
aduated off of the mail route, each having had her turn
. It has been a part of their education and has helped
in more ways than one. “
loe is a small girl, but what she lacks in size she makes
in nerve and ability to get over the road in all kinds
weather. The route lies over some of the roughest
mtry in the Ozark Mountains, and over a great patt of
e houses are few and far between. On a stretch of

1 the soba, and the tis and squirrels are her

S, and keep her company. Most of the time she car-

the mail on horseback. At times, in good weather,

, when the roads are worn. down hard and smooth,

she uses a buggy. Besides Henderson and Bakersfield, she
serves ‘two. other towns en route, Gamaliel and Custer, both
villages, but with large post-office patrona uze. The

zi most ba ee of her trip at times is casing the North

Fork River, a mountain stream nearly as large as the White
River, which at times gets to be a raging mountain tor-
rent. The stream is fordable at low water, but when it
goes on a rampage it is dangerous even for a ferryboat
to cross. One time when it was past fording she swam
her horse across in order to get her mail to its destination
that night. She came out on the opposite bank with drip-
ping skirts, but with mail high and dry on her shoulders.

In the spring and summer the route is pleasant to ride,
as some of the finest scenery in the Ozarks lies along the
way. Wild flowers and grass cover the woods floor, and
the hills are a mass of green, with the rocks of the river
bluffs sticking out in bare splendor. In autumn, too, it is
beautiful, when the woods present an ever-changing color,
but when the winter winds begin to blow and the days of
falling snow and blind, biting sleet come it would try the
nerves and spirit of a man, but Floe sticks to her post.
The winter season is short and the warm spring days to
come buoy her up.

The family lives a few miles north of Henderson, Ark.,
and in the worst weather her Sisters Pearl and Hannah
help her out. Hannah or Pearl goes after the mail at
Henderson in the morning and brings it to the house, where
Floe picks it up and carries it on to Bakersfield and brings
back the morning mail from that point.

The parcel post has made the daily load a great deal
heavier for the girl, and many times the horse is loaded
down with all he can carry. Sometimes the load is more
than ‘can be carried on horseback, and then the single
buggy is pressed into service, good roads or bad. She is
very popular and does many favors for her patrons-in the
way of bringing things from the stores for them when
they are too busy to go to town.

Asa Brown, her father, is an old man.
on a farm, and he specializes on fruit.
glad his children were girls, and that he could not get along
without them.

The family live

New Trotting Record.
When Peter Volo, driven by Murphy, won the two-

year-old trotting division of the Horseman Futurity, and -

the purse of $3,000 at the Grand Circuit Meet at Kala-
mazo, Mich., recently, he established a new world’s record
‘for two-year-old trotters, going the first mile in 2:00.

The distance was made with ease, Murphy holding the’

colt back as he came down the stretch. The former record
of 2:0914 was made by Justice Brooks two years ago. In
the second heat Peter Volo equalled the former record.

Track Recotd fot Spears.

“Bob” Spears, the Australian cyclist, at the Motordrome
at Newark, recently created another new track record

He says he is ©

-

when he crossed the line a winner in his heat of the half- , .

mile professional in 0:53. Spears, as the scratch. man,
was called upon to concede very liberal handicaps, so that
he had to ride in his best form in getting around the
field.

In the final heat Spears found the allowances too hard

to overcome,.especially when Reggie McNamara, his coun-

tryman, who also started from scratch, dropped back. | —
: ae £15 ares

j

 
28 NEW

fine
third

field, however, and by a

burst of speed in the final turn managed to get

Spears kept right at the

place. W. Beck, of Newark, who started from the eighty-

yard mark,-was the winner, in 55 seconds,

Ministers Live Longest.
According to statistics furnished by Doctor Emery R.

Hayhurst, chief of the State bureau of occupational dis-

eases, women clerks, bookkeepers, and stenographers are

shown by the figures to die soonest, and) ministers are
Next

the longest lived. come physicians and farmers.

women of the occupa-

The average length of life of 82
tions mentioned above, who died in I911, was 28 years.

Ministers averaged 67 years, and physicians and farmers
63. Forty-three per cent of female telegraph and tele-
phone operatives, who died during the year, were victims
of tuberculosis,

Tramps Want Luxuty in Box Cars.

That freight cars had fallen behind in the onward march
of progress was an assertion made at.the opening session
of the Itinerant Workers’ Association’s annual conven-
tion at Cincinnati, recently.

The hoboes said they would request the Interstate Com-
merce Commission to have the railroads make improve-
ments
Pullman Company and the companies operating the latest
They explained that their travels

in the freight cars along lines established by the

types of ocean liners.
could be made much easier if the railroad companies
would hang hammocks under the freight cars, whereas,
in this great day of progress, when every known com-
fort was being devised for the populace, the steel rods
beneath the cars were as hard as ever.

Swallowed Diamond Ring.

Lorenz Mallai, a commission merchant, was visited in
his apartment, at 352 West 115th Street, New York, by
Mrs. Florence Sabagillia, who made a claim of $10 against
him, and straightway grabbed his $300 diamond ring as
security. Much distressed, Mallai put his head out of the
window and shouted the facts at the top of his lungs,
with the result that Patrolman Karl was soon inside ques-
tioning the woman, and in the face of her stubborn de-
nials he took her to the West 125th Street station. The
matron searched her thoroughly. No
found.

“She swallowed it,” exclaimed Mallai suddenly. “That
must have been what it was I saw her putting in her
mouth.”

So the next search was by a doctor’ with a stomach
Despite her :in-

ring’ was to be

pump, and it brought the ring to light.
sistence that she had simply tried to indemnify herself
for a worthless $10 check Mallai had given her some
weeks ago for work done, and that she had swallowed
the ring in her fright at the appearance of a policeman,
Magistrate McQuade held her for further examination on
the grand-larceny charge.

To Attend Athletic Conference in Germany.

Before James E. Sullivan, secretary of the American
Olympic committee, sailed recently for Berlin, where he is
to attend the congress of! the International Athletic Fed-
eration, which has been called to pass on’a uniform set
of rules under which all future Olympic games will be
conducted, he informed the newspaper men that the atti-

LIPS TOP “WHERE Y:

tude of England and Germany toward the Panama In-

ternational Exposition wouid have no bearing on the ath
letic situation at the exposition.

Secretary Sullivan. will join Colonel Robert M. Thomp-
son, who is in Europe, and Supreme Court Justice Bar-
tow S. Weeks will sail later and complete the American
representatives at the international conference.

Mr. Sullivan stated that the plans were already being
laid for a very large’ and representative American team
for Berlin in 1916. Secretary Sullivan said he felt con-
fident Germany would send the largest team coming from
any foreign country to the games at San Francisco in
1915. Before leaving, Secretary Sullivan said:

“I am going to arrange the international events for the
[ expect to have the codperation of

to the

Panama exposition.
all the great nations, despite the recent
would not exhibit at the exposi-

stories
effect that the powers
tion.

“I think we shall be able to improve vastly the rules
for the coming Olympic games. They need revising, and
experience has taught a good deal by which we expect to
profit.”

Capture Last of Wild Horses,

Maimed and bleeding as the result of getting entangled
in barbed wire, the handsome black stallion which had been
the general of the last band of wild horses on the plains
of Montana has just been shot near Great Falls, and the
entire» band, numbering more than fifty, were captured.
This was notdone easily, however, but only after the
band had vbeen literally run off their feet in a chase of
more than fifty miles, which was negotiated by relays and
in a little less than three hours’ time.

Nearly a cowboy for.every mile of the race took part,
and during the fierce fight for their liberty by the outlaw
horses there. were some of the most daring feats ever per-
formed in a round-up.

The cowboys who were finally to corral and rope the
wild horses were tHey ele Se outfits, and
with them, so that the brand question might be properly
One of
the leaders in this long chase was Julius Beechard, a sea-

(49

from and “2

adjudicated, was State Stock Inspector Kennon.

soned yeteran of the plains, and it was due to the wise
plans worked out by Beechard that the horses finally were
conquered.

They have for more than a decade ranged the foothills
and valleys in the country between Stanford and the jure
tion of the Judith and Missouri Rivers, and during the
more have bolder been more
bothersome to the farmers in the valleys by showing too

recent years become and
great fondness for the alfaifa fields.

They have existed for about twelve years, and old-
timers say they had their origin in some Hambletonian and
Morgan thoroughbred .mares which were brought to the
range by a big outfit several years ago and allowed to get
away. As a result, all the animals, captured showed high
breeding, the bodies being finely formed and their ears
being the very picture of the thoroughbred.
| They were in racing flesh, and but for the well-organ-
ized relay campaign of the cowboys they never could have
been captured by the slow cow pony.

The relays had been worked out.carefully in advance, at
the chase was directed with a view to forcing them alor
a general line toward the Missouri River and then ea:
and south along the'stream. They were started more the

 
NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

' forty miles from the river to the westward and south, and
the plan worked.

The outlaws were chased from hilltop to hilltop, thus
gaining the advantage of wearing their pursuers and at
- the same time being able all the while to keep an eye on
their quarry and to determine from which direction it was
approaching.

The famous black stalli ion was always in the lead dur-
“ing the first forty miles, but raced into some loose barbed
‘wire in such a way as to entangle his legs and both his
_ front and rear limbs were gashed.

‘He fell from exhaustion and loss of blood and was shot
hy one of the cowboys pursuing to relieve his. suffering.
The loss of the stallion served to completely’ break the
spirit of the band, and they soon were corralled and

When the stallion fell it was found that he was almost
_ jet black all over. There was a slight trace of white on
his right hind fetlock.

Most of the captured horses took kindly to the bridle.
There were three or four, according to Mr. Beechard, who
were of the vicious type, and he says they never will be
_ subjugated.

Pinned Beneath Engine, Kills Self.

While pinned beneath an overturned locomotive, Hus-
ton Fleming, an engineer, put an end to his torture by
cutting his throat. Spectators had refused his request to

ing a new ecesbtive in’ ‘the Pauiwitte & Nashvil le ramets
when it was hurled from the tracks by a switch engine and
Hamlin vce

Long Vigil Kept by Indian Tribe.

‘Like a chapter from the chronology of the Middle Ages
is the story recently) brought from Mexico to San Fran-

“T left Sina said Mr. Oleson, “because conditions
were so disturbed that it was impossible to do any busi-
vess. Personally, I was not interfered with, although many

my neighbors lost everything they had. I was told that

owed my immunity to the fact that I was a Dane.”

Then he pe the ae story: eee PEA a

xteenth th In pa, ‘he founded the town of Zin-
sa. He worked among the Indians and so endeared
I self to them ee the memory of his life i is to-day their

8, candles tive been Fist Sanaa in a underground
ting place, and three Indians have kept constant vigil
the’ re the location is vite is aud to. be kriown

300 years the secret has, been handed down by its
#, those selected, by virtue of their age to re-

knocking him from his seat.

ceive and keep it and pass it along at the approach of the —
Reaper. , .
Several of the -popes, so the story goes, have sought to
have the remains of Father Dacio removed to Rome, but
the Indians have refused either to give them up or reveal
their location, There is a tradition, says Oleson, of one
priest sent out by Rome to learn the location of the sub-
terranean tomb who won the confidence of the Indians to
the extent of inducing them to show him the embalmed
body of the monk, He was blindfolded and led to the
place. When the cloth was tied over his eyes the priest
cut the string of his rosary, and under the protection of
his cloak dropped a bead at frequent intervals. The beads
were to guide him to the place when a chance offered later
on to make the-trip without escort.

The Indians kept: their word, and led him to the
lighted cave, where he saw the silent figure of the
monk, sitting upright in his chair of stone. He w:
folded again and led back. When the aged Ind
had led him to the tomb removed the bandage i
eyes, the other holder of the secret, who had acco
them, handed to the priest a handful of beads witl
mark:

“You dropped these.” '

Oleson says that he had many warm friends among the —
Indians, and has every reason to believe that the story is
true, and that, somewhere in the vicinity of Zinsonsa, the
embalmed body of that missionary of long ago sits in a —
stone ‘chair, staring with unseeing eyes at the everlasting
candlelight which keeps alive in the hearts of the descen- |
dants of the people he loved and worked for the memory
of his own good deeds.

The Indians believe it to be true. I have talked with
one of the old chiefs who is said to have the secret of
the subterranean tomb. I have heard the story of \Father
Dacio from his lips. I know that I and my property were
safe solely because I was a Dane. When the Indians first
learned that I.came from Denmark they were deeply in-
terested, but surprised that Iyhad not known Father Dacio. —
I tried to explain that 1540 was a long time ago. They
said they knew that, but that Father Dacio was such a
great man that everybody must have known him. They —
accepted me because I was a Dane, and I know that when
I go back my property will be just as I left it.

If the Indians who promised to care for it are ae
they will have delegated the duty to somebody else. They
may be ignorant as the world’s idea of knowledge goes, but —
they have the capatity for remembering a friend. When
judgment day comes, Father: Dacio will be able to so
testify. :
Paymastet Shot, Escapes Bandits. °

Samuel Howell, of New York, paymaster for a firm of
local building contractors, was skimming over the Bed-
ford village road, near White Plains, N. Y., on his, motor —
cycle, recently, with money in his pocket to pay off a gang
of workmen, when four armed bandits sprang out from

the bushes on the side of the road and ordered bins, to

halt.

Howell’s reply was to put on more ible ee he
whizzed past the highwaymen all four fired. During a
second volley a bullet was planted in his side, almo:
He clung to the handle bar
however, till he reached ms i Boa when he a

 
.

had just pulled in, and put on the operating table at the
Flower Hospital. He probably will recover.
Sheriff Doyle and a posse are searching the.countryside

for. Howell’s assailants.

Pigeon’s Odd Nesting Place.

Since the Steel Trust investigation has been on, Richard
V. Lindabury, chief counsel for the trust, has spent very
little time in his offices in the Prudential Building, in
Newark, N. J. His long absences evidently have been
observed by the pigeons that occasionally light in the win-
dow ledges to rest, for recently one of the birds flew into
Mr. Lindabury’s private office and confidingly laid an egg
under his desk. What is more, the process of hatching
was shortly after begun.

All day long the pigeon sat on its single egg, undis-

; - turbed by the young women stenographers and others who

tiptoed in to glance curiously at the unusual sight.

Filled Teeth With Gold One Thousand Years Ago.

Professor Marshall Howard Saville, professor of Amer-
Archzology in Columbia University, who’ has been
making extensive excavations in the state of Esmeralda,
Ecuador, arrived home recently, and told of discoveries
that, among other things, seem to prove that dentisty
of a high order was practiced in the Inca ay more
than one thousand years ago.

“This is the end of my twenty-second trip of excava-
tion in the tropics,” said Professor Saville, “and this time
_I did all of the work. I am glad to say the trip has been
a most successful one in every respect. I yanaged to get
along very well in places that are seldom visited by man.
I found a number of human skulls in a splendid state of
- preservation. The teeth were in perfectly even rows.

“The scene of my work this time was the state of
Esmeralda, in Ecuador, and I was able to gather much
new data bearing on the ancient civilizations of this hemi-
sphere. “The skulls I have referred to had their teeth
decorated with gold, being filled with gold on the inside,
but showing only slightly without. The teeth seemed to
_ have a gold band stretched across their edges either for
decoration of the\mouth or to strengthen the incisors.
Some of the skulls had the incisors neatly chiséled out
and filled with gold in some instances, and in others with
a material that seemed to be a kind of dental cement.

“In another type the gold band was cemented to the
teeth, but most remarkable were the chiseled holes, most
of them little ones, all filled with gold. The effect is
_ striking and the work may be one thousand years old; as
a matter of fact, it may have been done before the
Incas.

“The skill with which these people worked speaks vol-
umes for the civilization that centuries ago preceded us.
I myself expect to get one full volume ott of it. :
’ “I have brought back with me articles which show how
wonderfully skillful those people were in pottery work.
I have examples of the most distinctive kind of pottery
making.”

_ At that moment Professor Saville opened one of his
long, waterproof-canvas bags and showed some of the
_contents to the customs inspector.

“You must have these appraised,” said the. inspector,
taking a miniature face and bust in one hand and per-
fectly formed clay head about the size of an apple in
‘the other. In a few moments the customs man returned,

where under heaven.

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

saying there would be no.duty on them, as they were ob- —
jects of art. .

“They are of no use except to science or art,”
fessor Saville.

One of the heads was so finely finished that it daociels
to be of marble instead @f clay. The nose was deli--
cately chiseled and the lips-were gracefully arched.

“These are among the most perfect specimens of pot-
tery figures I “have ever seen,” Professor Saville said,
“and show that these early inhabitants of South America
were the only, people on that continent to bring pottery
making to such a high state of perfection. They are, so
far as I know, the only people of that time and region
who worked with jewels and. platinum. It proves hone
these people were highly cultured. They were purely — ;
American, and must have had highly skilled dentists among {
them.”

Professor Saville said he was confident that many more _
wonderful discoveries awaited the archxologist in Ecua-
dor and the adjoining countries.

said Pro-

Hounds Lead to Suspect.

Bloodhounds brought to Kirksville, Mo., from Sortie ms
field, Ill, to track the murderer of Mrs. Ivy Chevalier ©
and her twelve-year-old daughter, who were found in their

‘home with their skulls crushed, led the police directly to.

the home of Henry Thorington, a rejected suitér, of Mrs.
Chevalier, and the man, who was already under suspicion, —
was arrested.

Milburn Chevalier, a grown son of the dead woman, is
also held for investigation. :

Thorington is on the verge of collapse in the jail ab
Macon, ‘Mo., where he was rushed in an automobile by
Sheriff Wills before the result of the dogs’ work hecany
known, in order to avert violence by the mob.

At Thorington’s home the dogs rushed to his vedigaes
where the officers found bloodstains on the bedstead.
They then went to the railroad tracks, where Thorington
was seen the morning of the murder.

j

China, Boasts Oldest Money.

Now that the 3,000 bankers and economists are wrack
ing their brains over the 32 varieties of banking-reform
questions, it is worth while remarking that the youngest
republic of the world has probably forgotten more on the
ctirrency question than all the ilk of congressmen and —
economists ever. knew. aad

In speaking of China‘s bank-note ‘currency, Doctor
Louis Livingston Seaman, president of the China Society
of America, says that China has already developed 2
highly creditably currency “at a time when the ancestr
of the six-powers syndicate were groping in the darkness
of feudalism.”

Doctor Seaman was a strong advocate of Chinese rec- :
ognition, and the efforts of the China society had not a
little to do with the early step on the part of our govern-
ment. It was he who presented to the British Museum
a few years ago a Chinese bank note issued early in the
Ming dynasty, which began in 1368. For a somewhat”
similar-looking riote the museum paid. £500.

The note measured 9 by 13 inches, and is apparenily
printed from wooden blocks. It calls for “one string of _
cash,” and bears the following rather curious legend: |
“Government. money order of Ming dynasty, current any-

- Governnient money order issued by

 
4 te

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

board of revenue in accordance with their memorial ap-
proved by the throne,
_ Copper cash,

_ Persons giving

This note shall .be accepted as
Counterfeiters hereof will be executed.
information of counterfeiters will be re-
warded with taels 250, and, in addition, will receive prop-
erty belonging to the criminal.” This was signed with the
emperor’s name.

Black Troops Feted in Paris.

For the first time
4 of the black army, samples of which were brought frdm
_ all the colonies to be present at the gtcet review at Long-
_ champs.

The black troops have come from .
from the Kongo, and from
are accompanied by Arabs and Musselmans,
in ‘their gaudy uniforms, are enjoying their
stay in Paris. They flaunt\about in the boulevards, sit
sipping drinks at the small tables as if they had been doing
that thing all their lives, and wonder at things less than
they are wondered at. A large contingent was received
at the Hotel de Ville, and listened to the bands as if they
had been long accustomed to Wagnerian music. After
the review they went on an excursion in boats up the
” Seine; and in the evening there was a great banquet in
their honor at-one of the great fashionable hotels.

aris, France, is having a good: sight

\lgeria, from Senegal,
and they
All of them,

Asiatic posséssions,

immensely

Motor Bus Lines to Cover England.

All the essential plans have been completed for a sted
tem of motor-omnibus services which, under a central own-
ership and management, will eventually thread all. the
‘principal roads of England connecting large small
towns, and villages. There are at present 21 towns des-
ignated as centers for the new operations of the Greater
Omnibus, Services, and these operations will cover a ter-
ritory of 62,000 square miles.

_Each of the towns will have a radius of service from 15
milés at Norwich to 30 miles at London. These radii will
Overlap one another so that a passenger may travel en-
tirely by motor coach from London to the north of Dar-
-lington, a distance of 250 miles; south to Brighton, Ports-
mouth, and Exeter; as far west as Cardiff, and northwest
im td Liverpool and Manchester.

towns,

King’s Son Must “Fag” at Eton,
When Etonians reassemble in September after the sum-
mer vacation for 3 e€ winter Re ees eee old aes

England.

~The “new boy” will be Prince Henry, the third son of
the. king and queen, who is 13 years old, and who until
of -summer has been at St. Peter’s Court School, Broad-

; school, it was understood the prince would reside at
Windsor, but he is really to be attached to the house of a
‘housemaster as soon as-he arrives. This is in accord-
ance with the king’s s igo wish that he should be treated
like every other boy.

) Prince Perey will start in the middle fourth—the aver-
’ for boys entering Eton. ‘ He will have no
“special privileges, a nd will have to “fag” for his seniors

in school by 7:30 a. m. On full school days he will
have to do six hours’ work a day, and four hours’ work
on half holidays. Like all the lower boys, he will have
to “fag” for upper boys; that is, run errands, tidy the
house fagmaster’s room, light the fire, and keep jit alight;
prepare tea, make toast, cook eggs, fruit, pastries, and
so on. A house captain has two or three fags, with the
privilege of applying corporal punishment if the
discipline demand it.

needs of
An upper boy requiring a fag calls
and every fag must rush to obey the call.
The last to arrive has to do the job required.

The question that is troubling the Eton boys above
everything else concerned with the is what. they
shall call him when he géts settled among them.
be “Prince Henry,”

out, “Boy!”

“new boy”
Shall it
or plain,-simple “Henry,” or “Harry,”
as he has been called by his school fellows at St. Peter’s
court, The majority are for “Henry.”

Prince George of Teck, King George’s nephew,
Eton, and is always calletl “Teck” by the other
while those who are intimate with him call him’
“George.”

census half the American i never go is
Canon Hughes Scott said at a dinner in Denver:
“The trouble is, perhaps, that Americans have a
idea about the church. They think the church
them. to believe a lot of outworn dogma. That
true.
“Yes, the trouble is that the people define faith as the
little girl defined it in school.
“‘Faith,’ the little girl said, ‘
isn’t true.’’

is believing what you know ~

Sunken Wealth in Navatino Bay.

A company has just been incorporated in London. called
the Navarino Bay Salvage’ Company, to recover the treas-
ure in the Bay of Navarino, on the west coast of Greece,
where 63 Turkish.and Egyptian ships of war were sunk
by the allied fleets of England, France,-and Russia in: 1827

Of these 63, 43 have been located and buoyed, and as
the water is very clear and no deeper than 50 feet, it is
expected that a rich Siseidet will be reaped. Many of the
ships are known to have gone down with. specie and
jewels on board, but aside from that the guns and other
things which can be-recovered without ‘much trouble, have
great value. The treasurer of the Navarino Bay Salvage
Company is E. W. Gaze, who has related how the salvors
will go to work and what they expect to find:

“All: the existing records that might throw any light
on the size,and armament of the sunken ships have been
most carefully examined,” he said, “and from the dis-
patches of Admiral Codrington himself, and from other
sources, we have been able to ascertain definitely the
size and nature of practically every vessel that was sunk
in the engagement,

“It is thus possible, for instance, to estimate that at
the bottom of the bay there are at least three hundred
thousand tons of oak timbe -rs,'which, by the action of time
and the sea, have been turned to the color and hardness
of ebony. At a moderate estimate, this timber, which is
an ideal material for making furniture, will be worth ta
about six dollars per ton. a:

“All these oH napa were sheathed with almost pure

 
   

‘from its field men.

x ‘than'a year. It had the appearance, Captain Remnant said,

}

copper, and it is estimated that there must be at least
three thousand tons of the metals in the hulls of the sub-
merged ships.

“Then, there are the guns. According
preserved at the British admiralty, two thousand one hun-
dred and six guns went down in the Turkish and Egyp-
tian ships. One thousand three hundred of these guns
were made of bronze—which is worth from two hundred
and fifty to three hundred dollars per ton—and the aver-
age weight of each gun may safely be put at four tons.”

The salvage of these materials alone should amply repay
the venture, but there is also more than a possibility that
the: divers will find gold in specie and other forms.

Certain notes written just before the engagements and
found among the papers of the Egyptian admiral, re-
ferred to the money in the possession of the two com-
manders of the fleet. Muharem Bey, the

to the records

Egyptian ad-

-miral, had in his vessel $2,000,000, 20 large bags of money,

and 10,000 gold ducats; and; the Turkish admiral, Brahim
i: stated in a note that his ship went down with gold
ee! jewels worth not less than $4,800,000. It is more
than likely that some of the other ships carried specie and
eee valuables, and a gold cup, of the shape used in the
Greek church, h has already been recovered by a diver.

Forest Fires Set by Lightning,

Nitural; not human, agencies are responsible for most
: forest fires so far this year in the national forests,
ing to reports to the forest service at Washington
Whereas in former years railroads
with their spark-showering -locomotives, campers, and
brush burners were the chief causes of fires, most of the
destruction has been originated this year by lightning.

The officials ‘at Washington attributed this change to
the educational campaign it has conducted among forest
users, as well as to the improvement of the fire-patrol
system. While only slight fires have been reported re-
cently, the dry and windy conditions in southern Arizona
and New Mexico makes fire risk there imminent.

“Titanic”? Wreck May be Found,
Much of the mystery that surrounded the sinking ‘of the
White Star liner Titanic on April 14, 1912, may be dis-
pelled by the discovery of a wreck believed to be part of

the hulk of the ill-starred vessel, standing on end in the

Atlantic Ocean, off the Grand Banks of Newfoundland,
practically in the spot where the disaster occurred.

Captain Remnant, of the British steamship Luciline,
which arrived at Philadelphia from Bordeaux several days
ago, reported sighting the derelict, and the United States
hydrographic office has begun an investigation to learn
more about the wreck. Lieutenant Commander Landen-
berger, United States hydrographer stationed in Phila-
delphia, said the matter was of the utmost importance.

Should the vessel sighted by the Luciline prove to be
the remains of the Titanic, the story of the memorable
wreck would be rewritten. The fact that after more than
a year the hulk stands vertically in the waves, protruding
eight feet or more above the surface, would indicate that
a submerged ledge of rock had prevented the wreck from
going to the bottom of the sea.

Captain Remnant says the wreck was covered with a

marine growth of comparatively recent formation, ‘tend-

ing to show that it had been in the water a little more

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of being held down by anchors in shoal water, and of
being buoyed up by water-tight compartments. He is of a

the opinion it was the forward part, which, it was said,
split in two just before it sank.

Mariners say there is every reason to credit the exist-
ence of a submerged ledge of rock at or near the spot es
where the Titanic was destroyed. oy

 

Tells How to Live One Hundred Years.

Much interest has been aroused by the remarkable old
age theories just put forward by Doctor L. H. Goizet,
a well-known French physician, in a volume entitled -
“How Not to Grow Old, and Live More Than One Hun- mid
dred Years.” “hg

According to Doctor Goizet’s theory, life is the result
of a vast atomic current created by the motions of the
planets and the suns of the universe and governed by the
laws of gravitation.

While this current is produced under ‘oad conditions, _
the doctor says, life proceeds normally and no change ~
occurs in the body. To live for at least twice the pres- —
ent period, all that is necessary is to facilitate the har- —
monious working of the current, which, Doctor Goizet as- if
serts, can be insured by a kind of massam® for the body
every morning. m

Doctor Goizet, who, at an adwantad age, preserves jal-
most boyish vigor and alertness, says that his youthful-
ness is entirely due to his discovery. ‘

 

   
  
 
 
  
   
  
   
  
   
 
   
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
    

Bathes Hand and Face in Fountain.

Residents of the neighborhood of Penn Valley Park,
Kansas City, have found a new use for the public drink-
ing fountains.

The other afternoon a man stopped at the fountain near
Twenty-seventh and Main Streets. The cooling spray
shot upward in the stone bowl. He stood for several min-
utes and looked at the fountain.

Then, with a sigh of satisfaction, the wilted stranger
dipped his hands in the tiny pool and dashed the water |
over his bald head. Then he washed his face, sprinkled
the dust off his shoes, and took a drink.

The Penn Valley neighborhood is asking for a bath-
house.

Makes 1,030 Miles Air Flight in Day.

Eugene Gilbert, a French aviator, recently flew from
Paris to the town of Pejabo, on the Portuguese frontier, ©
a distance of 1,030 miles, in an effort to win the Pommery —
cup. The prize is awarded semiannually to the airman
who makes the longest flight across country from sunrise
to sunset in one day, during which he may stop as often:
as he wishes to replenish fuel. ah

Gilbert beat the record of 875 miles made on Jus
last by Marcel G. Brindejone des Moulinais, when he flew.
from Paris to Warsaw.

Gilbert left ‘Paris at 4:45 o’clock in the morning ik
made a seven hours’ nonstop flight to Vitoria, in Spain, —
where he landed. Ascending again at 1 p. m.,'he headed
for Portugal, and at 8 o’clock that evening descended al
Pejabo.

   

 
   
 

 

 

    
   
 

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‘

SOME OF THE
BACK

NUMBERS OF

W TIP TOP
WEEKLY

 

 

656—Frank Merriwell’s Red Visitor.
657—F rank Merriwell’s Rope.
658—Frank Merriwell’s Lesson.
659—FIrank Merriwell’s Protection.
660—Dick Merriwell’s Reputation.
661—Dick Merriwell’s Motto.
662—Dick Merriwell’s Restraint.
663—Dick Merriwell’s Ginger.
664—Dick Merriwell’s Driving.
666—Frank Merriwell’s Theory.
668—Frank Merriwell’s Encouragement.
669—Frank Merriwell’s Great Work.
670—Dick Merriwell’s Mind.
671—Dick Merriwell’s ‘‘Dip.’’
672—Dick Merriwell’s Rally.
673—Dick Merriwell’s Flier.
674—F rank Merriwell’s Bullets.
675—Frank Merriwell’s Cut Off.
676—F rank Merriwell’s Ranch Boss.
677—Dick Merriwell’s Equal.
678—Dick Merriwell’s Development.
679—Dick Merriwell’s Eye.
680—F rank Merriwell’s Zest.
681—Frank Merriwell’s Patience.
685—Frank Merriwell’s Fighters.
684—Dick Merriwell at the ‘‘Meet.”’
685—Dick Merriwell’s Protest.
656—Dick Merriwell in the Marathon.
687—Dick Merriwell’s Colors.
688—Dick Merriwell, Driver.
689—Dick Merriwell on the Deep.
690—Dick Merriwell in the North Woods.
691—Dick Merriwell’s Dandies.
692—Dick Merriwell’s Sk yscooter.
693—Dick Merriwell in the Elk
tains
694—Dick Merriwell in Utah.
695 —Dick Merriwell’s Bluff.
dic ete in the Saddle.
Merriwell’s Ranch Friends.
Merriwell at P hantom Lake,
-Ffank Merriwell’s Hold- back
700—Frank Merriwell’s Live ly L ads.
701—Frank Merriwell as Instructor.
702—Dick Merriwell’s Cayuse.

70: 3—Dick Merriwell’s Quirt.
704—Dick Merriwell’s I'reshman
705—Dick Merriwell’s Best Form.

706—Dick Merriwell’s Prank.
707—Dick Merriwell’s Gambol.
TO8—Dick Merriwell’s Gun.
4 09- ‘Dick Merriwell at His Best.
710—Dick Merriwell’s Master Mind.
11—Dick Merriwell’s Dander,
12—Dick Merriwell’s Hope.
13—Dick'’s Merriwell’s Standard.
14—Dick Merriwell’s Sympat Pi?
2 »—Dick Merriwell in Lumber
)
I]
1
19

Moun-

Friend.

Land.

Frank Merriwell's Fairness.
7—Frank Merriwell’s Pledge.
8—Frank Me ‘rriwe ll, the Ma in of Grit.
—Frank Merriwell’s Return Blow.
O0—Frank Merriwell’s Quest.
21—Frank Merriwell’s Ingots.
22—F rank Merriwell’s Assistance.
23—Frank Merriwell at the Throttle.
24—-Frank Merriwell, the Always Ready,
25—Frank Merriwell in Diamond Land.
26—Frank Merriwell’s Desperate Chance,
ion oe rank Merriwell’s Black Terror.
28—Frank Merriwell Again on the Slab.
729—Frank Merriwell’s Hard Game.
730—Frank Merriwell’s Six-in-hand.
31—Frank Merriwell’s Duplicate.
302—Frank Merriwell on Ratth snake
Ranch.
—Frank Merriwell’s Sure Hand.
54—Frank Merriwell’s Treasure Map.
5—Frank Merriwell, Prince of the Rope.
36—Die k Merriwell, Captain of the Var-
sity.
—Dick Merriwell’s Control.
38- —Dick Merriwell’s Back Stop.
9—Dick Merriwell’s Masked Enemy.
0O—Dick Merriwell’s Motor Car.
—Dick Merriwell’s Hot Pursuit,
—Dick Merriwell at Forest Lake.

bette be to POP rors OPPs rsrsrers|
botolong WINN e

PRICE, FIVE CENTS PER COPY.

news dealer, they can be obtained direct from this offlce.

760—Dick Merriwell,

748—Dick Merriwell in Court.
744—Dick Merriwell’s Silence.
745—Dick Merriwell’s Dog.
746—Dick Merriwell’s Subterfuge.
747—Dick Merriwell’s Enigma.
348—Dick: Merriwell Defeated.
749—Dick Merriwell’s ‘‘Wing.”’
750—Dick Merriwell’s Sky Chase.
751—Dick Merriwell’s Pick-ups.
752—Dick Merriwell on the Rocking R.
753—Dick Merriwell’s Penetration.
754—Dick Merriwell’s Intuition.
755—Dick Merriwell’s Vantage.
756—Dick Merriwell’s Advice.
757—Dick Merriwell’s Rescue.
758—Dick Merriwell, American.
759—Dick Merriwell’s Understanding.
Tutor.
761—Dick Merriwell’s Quandary.
762—Dick Merriwell on the Boards,
763—Dick Merriwell, Peacemaker.
764—Frank Merriwell’s Sway.
765—-Frank Merriwell’s Comprehension.
766—Frank Merriwell’s Young Acrobat.
767—F rank Merriwell’s Tact.
768—Frank Merriwell’s Unknown.
769—Frank Merriwell’s Acuteness.
770—Frank Merriwell’s Young Canadian.
77 ‘rank Merriwell’s Coward.
‘rank Merriwell’s Perplexity.
~Frank Merriwell’s Intervention.
“rank Merriwell’s Daring Deed.
‘rank Merriwell’s Succor.
‘rank Merriwell’s Wit.
“rank Merriwell’s Loyalty.
‘rank Merriwell’s Bold Play.
‘rank Merriwell’s Insight.
“rank Merriwell's Guile.
—Frank Merriwell’s C amps 1ign.
78: 2—Frank Merriwell in the
Forest.
788—Frank Merriwell’s Tenacity.
784—Dick Merriwell’s Self-sacrifice.
785—Dick Merriwell’s Close Shave.
786—Dick Merriwell’s Perception.
787—Dick Merriwell’s Mysterious
pearance.
788—Dick Merriwell’s Detective Work.
789—Dick Merriwell's Proof.
790—Dick Merriwell’s Brain Work.
791—Dick Merriwell’s Queer Case.
792—Dick Merriwell, Navigator,
793—Dick Merriwell’s Good Fe Nowship.
794—Dick Merriwell’s Fun.
795—Dick Merriwell’s Commencement.
796—Dick Merriwell at Montauk Point.
797—Dick Merriwell, Mediator.
T98—Dick Merriwell’s Decision,
799—Dick Merriwell on the Great Lakes.
$00—Dick Merriwell Caught N: epping
$01—Dick Merriwell in the Coppet
try.
802—Dick Me rriwell Strapped.
803—Dick Merriwell’s Coolness.
804—Dick Merriwell’s Reliance.
805—Dick Merriwell’s College Mate.
806—Dick Merriwell’s Young Piteher
807—Dick Merriwell’s Prodding.
SO8—F rank Merriwell’s Boy.
S09—F rank Merriwell’s Interference.
810—Frank Merriwell’s Young Warriors.
811—F rank Merriwell’s Appraisal.
812—F rank Merriwell’s Forgiveness.
813—F rank Merriwell’s Lads.
814—F rank Merriwell’s Young Aviators.
§15—F rank Merriwell’s Hot-head.
816—Dick Merriwell, Diplomat.
817—Dick Merriwell in Panama.
818—Dick Merriwell’s Perseverance.
819—Dick Merriwell Triumphant.
820—Dick Merriwell’s Betrayal.
821—Dick Merriwell, Revolutionist.
8$22—Dick Merriwell’s Fortitude.
$28—Dick Merriwell’s Undoing.
824—Dick Merriwell, Universal Coach,
825—Dick Merriwell’s Snare.
826—Dick Merriwell’s Star Pupil.

National

Disap-

‘¢ oun-

827—Dick Merriwell’s Astuteness.
$28—Dick Merriwell’s Responsibi
$29—Dick Merriwell’s P lan.
330—Dick Merriwell’s Warning.
.31—Dick Merriwell’s Counsel.
332—Dick Merriwell’s Champions
3338—Dick Merriwell’s Marksmen.
334—Dick Merriwell’s Mnthusiasn
335—Dick Merriwell’s Solution.
.36—Dick Merriwell’s Foreign Fo
337—Dick Merriwell and _ the
Warriors.
88—Dick Merriwell’s Battle for 1
39—Dick Merriwell’s Evidence.
840—Dick Merriwell’s Device,
841—Dick Merriwell’s »Princet
nents.
842—Dick Merriwell’s Sixth Sens
843—Dick Merriwell’s Strange Cl
844—Dick Merriwell Comes Back.
845—Dick Merriwell’s Heroie Cre
846—Dick Merriwell Looks Aheat
8&47—Dick Merriwell at the Olym}
848—Dick Merriwell in Stockholn
849—Dick Merriwell in the
Stadium.
850—Dick Merriwell’s Marathon.,

NEW SERIES. -
New Tip Top Week

1-—Frank Merriwell, Ji
2—F rank Merriwell, Jr., in the ]
—Frank Merriwell, Jr.'s, Strug
4—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Skill.
5—Frank Merriwell, Jr., in Idah
6—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Close
7 en Merriwell, Jr., on W
aers.
S—TIrank Merriwell, J
9—Frank Merriwell,
thon,
10—F rank Merriwell, Ir.,
Ranch.
—Frank Merriwell, Ja.’
Frank Merriwell, ae
Frank Merriwell,
~—lrank Merriwell,
Krank Merriwell,
Pr ank Merriwell,
-Frank Merriwell, qn
Frank Merriwell, Jr.’
Frank Merriwell, Ret
Frank Merriwell,
Frank Merriwell,
-Frank Merriwell,
2: 3. Frank Merriwell,
24—Frank Merriwell, arg Fearl
25—Frank Merriwell, Jr.,.on Skis
26—Frank Merriwell, Jr.'s, Iee-bi
27—Frank Merriwell; Jr.’s
I oes,
28—Frank Me ‘rriwell, Jr..
29 ‘rank Merriwell, Jr.’
‘rank Merriwell, Jr.’
‘ank Merriwell, Jr.’
rank Merriwell, Jr.’
Frank Merriwell, Jr.. tn the
Frank Merriwell, Jr.'s, Grue
—Frank Merriwell, am i.
Frank Merriwell, Jr.'s,
Frank Merriwell, ph ak
—Frank Merriwell, Jr.'s,
Race,
$9—F rank Merriwell, Jr.'s, Four
Frank Merriwell, : Ss Umpi
1—F rank Merriwell, y Seer
42—F rank Merriwell, a Team
453—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, ’ Step-
44—F rank Merriwell, he Mon
45—F ‘rank Merriwell, Te Athle
46—F rank Merriwell, : : s. Out fir
—~Frank Merriwell, if , Sun

r.’s, Dang
Sr.’ Ss, Re

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s, Golde
s, Comy
'S, Guidi:
‘s, Scrin
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.s, Star
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Meets 1
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Adve
‘Time

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—F1
I

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‘a Frank Merriwell, tr 8s, Hobo
49—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Canc

If you want any back numbers of our weeklies and cannot procure them

Postage stamps taken the same as money.

Street & Smith, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Ave., New York