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An Ideal Publication For The American Youtii

 

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No. 119. NEW YORK, November 7, 1914. Price Five Cents.

 

Frank Merriwell Again in Colorado;
Or, A FOE TO BE ~ FEARED.

By BURT L. STANDISH.

CHAPTER I.

OLD FRIENDS MEET.

”

 

“W-w-well, if it ain’t Mum-Mum

Frank Merriwell put out his hand, laughing.

“Vd know the trade-mark anywhere. Joe Gamp, how
are ye? I didn’t expect to see you here in Colorado
Springs.”

They shook hands—Frank Merriwell and the stuttering
Yankee, two old friends, who had met after a long

separation.

“T sus-saw in the papers that yeou and Diamond was
cuc-comin’ here fer a vacation, after yeou got through
yeour work at Skyline, so I jest run dud-daown here
from Salida to see ye. Haow’s Dud-Diamond?”

“Fine as silk. He’s here in the hotél somewhere.
be glad to see you, Joe.”

“Pup-pup-pup-pup——”

Merry glanced round in his old humorous way.

“Oh, dud-don’t go to askin’ where the pup-pup is, like
yeou. used tew, for yeou know I ain’t callin’ any dog.
What I’m tryin’ to say is, it pup-puts me in mind of old
times.” ”

He'll

~ “You ought to have been with us at Skyline, Joe. We
had a great crowd there. Browning, Badger and his
wife, Gallup and Dunnerwust, old Bill Higgins, and Swift-
wing. Diamond was in charge of my drill crew, and he
She
intended to return home from Skyline, but after we de-

‘cided that Frank was not to return to Fardale at once,

she concluded to remain out in the West a little longer.”
Gamp’s face was aglow with delight. |
“What's that abaout Cuck-Carker? Sus-somethin’ was
in the pup-papers abaout him. Tle pup-paper said that
old. sus-socialist had got intew trouble daown at Trini-
dad.”

With a laugh Merry drew out a telegram.

“He’s here at the Antlers with us. I got that from
Trinidad just before leaving Skyline.”

He flirted it open, and Joe Gamp read:
“Frank Merriwell, Skyline, Kansas.

“Jailed on false charge. Need your help. Yours for
the revolution. GREG CARKER.”

Gamp laughed when he read it.
“Sus-same old Carker. He can’t keep his-socialism even

out of a tellygram. Mum-mighty good fellow. You gug-
got him aout, of course.”
“Oh, yes. But the charge was foolish. He got into

“an altercation with a, reporter for a Denver paper, and

when the reporter assaulted him, Carker knocked him
down, Then they jailed him on general charge’. He had
been there during the mining war, and had been made
to leave, and, having gone back later, he was regarded
as a firebrand that had to be snuffed out.”

Merry made no mention of the very considerable sum
of money he had been forced to pay to lawyers and others
before the release of Carker was effected.

In the hotel lobby they came gn Carker talking in his
earnest way with a group of men who had gathered round
him.

Then Jack Diamond, as immaculate as if he had never
bossed a well crew and clawed -round ih the mud and
sand of the Arkansas River, joined“them. They were
delighted to meet Gamp, and the way Gamp’s hoarse
“haw, haw,” rang out was evidence enough to show that
he was quite as well pleased to meet them. \

“Sus-so the sus-social earthquake yeou used tew /talk
abaout hit ye dud-daown in Trinidad,” Gamp commented.

“Oh, well, the mining trouble down there inspired it,”
said Carker. “By the way, Merry,” he added, “that Den-
ver reporter I went up against is the editor of a little

  
 

 

2 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

paper here. He’s got it in for you, as well as
at that.”
fe took out of his pocket a copy of the. paper.
lat is that for yellow journalism?” he added,
passed the paper over.
Merry read the article indicated with a smile of amuse-

ment. it is, with all its vitriol:

ae

as he

Here
“Frank Merriwell, in going to the aid of the notorious
Greg Carker, is showing the kind of man he is. Carker
is one of the men who preached such violent doctrines
at Trinidad that the military had to run him out of that
town.. He was ordered not to return there, but he went
back, and was jailed for his disobedience. Immediately,
Merriwell rushed down there to his assistance. Carker
is a menace to the peace of the State, and Frank Mer-
riwell, in aiding him, allies himself with the thugs and
plug-uglies, whose crimes of arson and murder this past
spring and summer have been the disgrace of Colorado.

“We happen to know this man Merriwell rather well
by reputation. Isn’t he the self-exploiter who is always
the hero of about everything that comes along—the great
baseball king, the conquering knight of the pigskin, the
Wonder from Wonderland—in short, the Pasha of Many
Tales! To his other titles he can now add, the: Friend
' of Fire Eaters and the Helper of Jailbirds.

“Recently he organized what he calls the Merriwell
Company, consisting of himself and his brother, and, un-
der that title, he poses as the wise guy, whose great’ brain
is able to solve any kind of Western tangle, from: a
mining proposition to a game of poker, Put your good
‘money in his fist, and he will tear aside the veil of
your business future, and with all the skill of the veriest
fortune teller, and with as much truth. Only when he is
through with you do you realize that’ you have been up
against a. financial hobo. He is said’ to be immensely
wealthy, and that his fortune has been piled up by
swindling people in that way. Yet this maa is not a
Westerner, and he knows nothing about the West. He
is an, Easterner, and his sole talents are an itch for money
and notoriety and a persuasive manner. He ought to have
been a confidence man. We take that back; he 7s a con-
fidence man.

“We have .only this to say. to Merriwell, asa final
word: He is not wanted in the West. So, the sooner
he hies himself to his’ native East, the better. the West
will he. pleased.”

After reading the article over to himself, Merry then
read. it aloud. ;

“Quite in the old red-hot style,” he remarked ;
that kind of personal journalism was dead long

Jack Diamond, his face flaming, swung round.

“Where is that editorial dugout?” he said, with a snarl,
addressing Carker.

Merry flashed him a questioning look.

“What are you going to do?”

“l’m.going down there, to push that editor’s face in.”

“T wouldn’t,” said Merry.

“Oh, I know that you wouldn’t. You're always too easy.
But he advertised for a licking when he published that.
I want to see him. Carker, where does that hound hang
out?”

“Cool down!” Carker pire “He has published worse
things about me. Besides, he’s only a boy.”

“How big a boy?”

ch though
ago.’

for me.

he’s under twenty-five.”
“Twenty-five? Do you call that——
“He isn’t worth your attention, Jack. That’s what he
wants—attention. He had me thrown into jail in Trini-e
dad——”
“And you stood for that?
town———”

“Well,

”

Carker folded the paper and thrust it back into his

pocket.

He laughed.

“Let’s talk about something cheerful,’ he urged.

“Abaout the stis-social révolution,” said Gamp.

“It’s the only subject worth talking about,’ Carker ie
“You're beginning to hear the echoes of the com-
That’s right. The world is tired of

”

clared.
ing earthquake.
capitalism and war and

Diamond interrupted him.

“Merry,” he said, “I can’t stand the sneers in that
editorial about your ability in various lines. Why, the
article gives the idea that you’re a bladder of wind. Vd
like to show him that you’re not. Football is in the air
This village is going against Cafion City next week,

 

here,
and I want you to be in it.
fight him, you’ve got to do’ that.”

Merry laughed again.
times by reason of. the queer directions taken by his a
earnestness and sturdy loyalty.

“I’m a rank outsider, Jack. I couldn’t play here.
sides, I’m out of form.” .

“Oh, you’re husky enough—your practice and condition:

are all right,” Diamond declared. -“But -it wasn’t playing,
I thought of. They are hunting high and low for a good
coach. I’m going to mention you to them.”

“Gug-gug-goshfry!” stuttered. Gamp. “If Murm- Meshy
coached an eleven here and it whipped Cafion City, that'd
jest tickle, this editor you’re so hot against.”

“No it wouldn’t.
rage. He’d want to praise his eleven, and he couldnt
do it. without praising.Merry. Say, that would kill him,”

When Merry sent up. word that Gamp was at the hotel,
Inza Merriwell came down into the reception room, and
there they met. her

“I hope yeou won't. take offense if I-say that yeou're
even bub-better lookin’ than yeou used tew be, and that’s
gug-goin’ some,”.Gamp assured her, “Merry’s the lul-lucky
guy, all right.” se: Giada

Gamp did not mean his. words as -flattery.
developed into a supremely beautiful woman.

“If I could believe you, Joe,” she said. “And as for
Frank, if you should happen to see a paper I was read-
ing a while ago, you would be afraid to be seen speaking
with him.”

“Hah, haw!
ker

“lve been hearing that Mr. Carker is a ‘terrible man:
Yet I don’t think he has ever said anything as bad about
any one as that paper has said about him. You're living
in Salida? That seems strange.”

“Jest visitin’ mum-my sus-sister there,’

Inza had

And Cuck-Car-

Didn’t it lambaste him?

 

’ Joe explained,

“Then I heard that Mum-Merry was here, and so I had ~
to cuc-come daown and.see him. Gug-goshfry, I wisht I'd:

been in Skyline when all them fellers was there: This
does pup-pup-pup-pup
Merriwell whistled.

*Ahaw, ahaw!

 

And he’s right here, in this 3

If you don’t want me to

Jack Diamond amused him some-

Be-:

He’d choke himself i: death with,

That’s jest. the way Mum-Merry used ,

 

 

   

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tew do, when I got tew stutterin’ sus-sus-so I. couldn’t
say anything. He’d wh-whistle, and that’d break the spell,
and I'd st-start all over ag’in. I was goin’ tew say, though
I couldn’t git tew Skyline, this does pup-pup-purty well.
Ahaw, ahaw!”

Joe’s laugh was so gurgling and infectious that every

one joined him, then looked foolish, as there seemed to

be nothing to laugh about. Inza wiped a bit of moisture
Out of her eyes, that was half of laughter and half of
tears.

“There’s one trouble about these reunions, Joe,” she
Said, as if explaining, “that I delight in them, they make
me see how time is flying, and make me feel so—old.”

*Old? Haw, haw! That’s a joke. ‘Honest, Mrs,
Merriwell, yeou lul-look younger’n yeou used to.”

“How old I must have looked, then!”

“Naw!”

“Joe, you’re a flatterer.”

“I wisht I was—wisht I could sus-say all the things I’d
lul-like to; but I’m such a sus-sus-sus-stutterer y

“I remember once, Joe, that‘ you said you were always

 

troubled that way most when you were telling lies. Do

you remember about it?”

“Nun-no! Gog-goshfry, I believe yeou made that up.
I nun-nun-nun-nun-never tut-tut-tut-tell lul-lies.”

Joe Gamp’s defect of speech never abashed him in the
least. Rather, he looked on it as a joke. He was too
simple-minded and honest to think of it otherwise. Gamp
never tried to pose, and could not have done so if he had
tried.

“Has Cuc-Carker been tellin’ yeou abaout his earth-
quake ?” ,

“Mr. Carker has heard his earthquake rumbling a good
many years now,” said Inza.

“And, in these latter times, the rumblings grow louder,”
declared Carker. “The whole nation heard that explosion
down in Trinidad.”

“And haow yeou gug-got in j-jail! Ahaw, ahaw

“That was but an incident. I preach the truth though
theSheavens fall, and I fall with them.”

“Bub-bub-but yeou did want tew git aout?

“Oh, yes, for no one likes to lie in prison. I couldn’t
make any speeches in there, and that’s why they jailed
me. But I sent for Merriwell.”

“Hurraw for Merriwell! , Rah, rah, rah! Ahaw, ahaw!
Makes me think of Yale.

“Here’s a health to gug-good old Yale—
Drink ’er daown!”

yp?

CHAPTER II.
AN OLD ENEMY?

The attractions which had made Frank Merriwell choose
Colorado Springs for the brief vacation he made from
business were many. Right at hand and always visible
are the ragged granite heights of Cheyenne Mountain, and
viewed close at hand, it seems to be really a grander
and more imposing mountain than Pike’s Peak itself,
whose towering head rises amid a jumble of other moun-
tains farther away. Close by, too, is the Garden of the
Gods, and easily reached is Manitou, the famous health
resort, at the base of Pike’s Peak. And all about is a
rather level country, suited to automobiling, riding, and
driving. In choosing a pleasant resting place, one might
go much farther and fare worse. It was late in the sea-

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

 

  

  

3

son now, and, for that reason, quieter, and Merry wantec
the quiet and the restfulness.

Apparently, though, if the editor whose rabid utterances
he had read could have his way, Merry’s stay in Colorado
Springs would be anything ‘but quiet and pleasant.

Merry hoped the editor’s influence was not great enough
to affect the attitude of any of the people there toward
him, for that would have been a calamity, end might
have forced him to cut his visit short.

He did not know where the editorial rooms were; had
not inquired, and did not wish to know. Moreover, he
was determined that Jack Diamond should not make an
unpleasant call on the editor, if it could be prevented.
Jack was one of Merry’s best friends, yet the hot-hearted
Virginian sometimes got him into setious trouble by too
ardently championing his cause.

Therefore, Merry was not pleased that) Diamond was
with him when they came in sight of a building over whose
door was a sign showing that in it the Pilot was pub-
lished.

Diamond wanted to enter at once and demand a pub-
lished retraction, and thrash the editor if it was refused.

“Where do you think you are, Jack?” said Merry, re-
straining him. “The only way to treat such people is to
ignore them.”

“And let them continue to spew out their lies and believe
that you’re afraid to say anything? That isn’t my way.”

“T know it isn’t. See here, I’m going to have peace in
this town if I have to fight for it—fight you for it—
see? Come along.”

They were on the opposite side of the street from
the privting house, and the time was evening. Twilight
was falling, though the street lamps were not yet lighted.
The air was growing chill, for at that altitude, and at that
time of year, the nights are sometimes nipping.

Merry was moving on with Diamond, when a man came
out of the editor’s office who so drew his attention that
he stopped: to look at him. The man was dark-faced,
Oriental in appearance, and with something in his air so
suggestive and familiar that Merry stared hard at him.

Suddenly Merry started on, but put his hand across his
face in a peculiar way, as if brushing aside cobwebs.

“Excuse me, Jack,” he said; “but for a moment I
thought I knew that man. Of course that can’t be, for the
man is dead years ago—and this one is as dark as a real
Oriental. Did you take a good look at him?”

Diamond turned and his eyes followed the retreating
figure.

“I hardly noticed him,” he said, “for I was looking into
that office and thinking how I’d like to go in there and
tell that editor what I think of him. The man is dead,
you say?”

“Dead; drowned at New Haven years ago. And he
was a white man. So, of course, I was mistaken. But
for a minute it gave me a queer feeling. The man he
made me think of was that infamous devil, Dion San-
tanel, or Brandon Drood, sometimes known as gies
King. You remember when he was drowned, Jack.

“Your father’s old enemy!”

“And mine. And the uncle of Dade Morgan. You re-
member Dade well. He was my bitter enemy at one time
at Yale, then became my friend, I discovered that he was
not responsible for half the things he did against me.
Santanel forced him to be my enemy, with lies, and by
using his fiendish powers of hypnotism on Dade.”

   
 

  
 

 

4 NEW TIP TOP ‘WEEKLY.

“That’s Dade’s story of how it was, of course. If -you
had kicked ‘Dade Morgan out of New Haven it would
have served him right.”

In saying this, perhaps true-hearted Jack Diamond was
forgetting that once upon a time when he himself. first
came to Yale, he also had been Frank Merriwell’s enemy.
He can be fergiven if it had quite passed out of his mind,
for it wes long ago, and now for many years he had
been one of Merry’s closest and best friends.

“Where is Dade?” Diamond asked.

“T don’t know where he is right now.”

“Hope he doesn’t turn.up here.”

“He would be my friend if he did.”

Diamond choked down a bitter sentence, in which he
was about to charge, as he often did, that Merry was too
easy with his enemies.

Still looking at the man who had so strangely attracted
Merriwell, they saw him stop and give a bundle of papers
to a small boy.

A little later the boy was running along the street with

his papers, scattering them, for they were handbills of’

some kind.

As he passed Diamond and Merriwell, he threw one of
the handbills at their feet.

Merry picked it up, and saw that a charity fair was
to be given at a certain place in the town that night,
and the ladies in charge of it were announcing as one of
the attractions of the evening that the celebrated con-
verted Hindu, Ghunder Singh, would amuse and delight
the audience with tricks of Eastern magic, and would
also deliver a short talk on present-day conditions in
India.

Frank paled a little, in spite of his feeling that San-
tanel was long since dead, when he read that handbill.

“I should say that this entertainer is Santanel, if I
didn’t know that he is dead,” he declared. “He claimed
at times to be a Hindu, and, though he was only a very
dark-faced white man, his dark complexion and his knowl-
edge of India enabled him to carry it off. You'll remem-
ber, Jack, that he was a wonderfully clever juggler, as
well as hypnotist.”

Diamond looked along the streets again, but the dark-
faced man had passed out of sight.

“It’s a coincidence, yet it can be nothing else,” he urged,
seeing that Merry was disturbed. “They found Santanel’s
body in the river, didn’t they? That’s my recollection
now.”

“They found a body, and it was supposed to be San-
tanel’s. I didn’t see it. But I saw him fall into the
water, and I was sure that he had drowned.

“We'll not let this trouble us, then,” said Diamond;
and threw the handbill into the gutter. “Santanel is dead,
and we'll let him rest.” ’

Merriwell walked on in silence. The street lights flashed
into ropes of rubies, and their light revealed to Diamond
how pale Merriwell had grown.

“Even if it should be Santanel, you would not be afraid
of him?”

“No, not afraid of him. Seeing him here—or the man
who looks so like him—-made me think of my fathér, whose
bitter enemy he was. He claimed, you know, that my
father swindled him out of a large sum of money; in
fact, that my father’s wealth came to him in that way. But
it wasn’t so. The way he hounded my father—-~”

Diamond, genuinely distressed, did not know what to

Say to break the force of the poignant recollections which
he knew had suddenly come to Merriwell. There were a
number of things lying in the past, connected with his
father, that always saddened Merry when they were re-
called to him.

Merry voiced another thought that had come to. Dia-
mond, as he went on:

4
“Tf that was Santanel—it can’t be, of course—he might ©
1g

have had something to do with that attack on me in the
Pilot. Santanel always has money—he had a genius for
collecting it—and he was always ready to spend it in
bribery. Of course, I’m wrong, for that wasn’t Santanel.
But if it had been Santanel, it would have been just like
him to bribe that editor to do that, And there was an
excuse ready to the editor’s hand, in the fact that I
had gone to Trinidad to help Carker; and he hates: Carker
and all his doctrines. But if that was Santanel——”

Merry shook his shoulders as if casting off a nightmare,
and strode on.

“We'll think no more about it,” he declared,

Yet the next minute he was saying that he intended to
look in at the charity fair that night and see what. the
Hindu did.

Then he added:

“Jack, say nothing about this to Inza, and keep it from

Gamp and Carker. We'll all go and see the Hindu. How

does that strike you?”

“Why should we?” Diamond objected. “He'll have
nothing new in this box of tricks, You’ve seen them, or
their like, dozens of times.”

“But,” said Merry, with singular earnestness, “I- want
to see'if Inza and Gamp and Carker notice the resemblance
that I noticed. Inza is particularly keen-eyed.
want to get’a straight face-to-face look at him myself,
and I want you to have the same. If Santanel is liy-
ing & é

“Forget it,” said Diamond; “old Santanel is dead long
ago.”

“Yes, he must be; I saw him. fall into the water, and
they found his body a day or so later.” #

“And buried him. So that settles Santanel. Perhaps
we'd better turn here and walk back toward the Antlers,
for we're a long way from that hotel now.”

 

CHAPTER III.
AT THE CHARITY FAIR.

Joe Gamp’s roaring laugh was sounding in the lobby at
the Antlers, when Merry and Diamond arrived there.

“A cuc-caowboy,” he explained, “has been entertainin’
us with the gug-greatest yarns ye ever heard, He’s in
from the Wyoming ruh-ranges, and’s jest bub-blowin’
himself, He sus-said the Antlers was the best hotel in
this taown, and nothin’ was too good fer Andy, if it cuc-
cost him a hundred dud-dollars a day. Y’ought to hear
him.”

They heard him. Im fact, unless they went out of the
lobby they could not have failed to hear him. He was
the regulation cowboy, even to chaps and red necker-
chief,

“Too much cowhoy, isn’t he?” Merry commented. “He
must have come from a remote range, As a rule, cowboys
like that are only see nowadays in wild-west shows.”

“That football practice I wuz) witnessin’ this afternoon
was the plumb limit, to. me,” they heard him say. “I’m

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NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. 5

wonderin’ they didn’t kill me. But how wuz I to know?
Jest by chanct+I butted into it, and I didn’t know what
it was. There wuz a feller callin’ out letters and num-
bers, and as I come up he yells out ‘A. B.’

“Them’s two of my ‘nitials—my name’s A. B. Holker;
and’ the boys allus call me A. B. All the name I got on
the range is jest A. B. So I yells back, thinkin’ I’m
wanted; thinkin’, too, that one o’ the critters in the queer
togs is some chum o’ mine yellin’ for help.

“Then 2 man begun to run, and some others hot after
him, and I thinks my friends is in the crowd that’s chasin’
him, and mebby he’s stole a watch, er suthin. So I lets
fly with my rope, and brings him down.

“Great cats! I thought them critters wuz goin’ to mob
me. But how wuz I to know?”

“Ahaw, ahaw!” Joe Gamp was bellowing, in a roaring
laugh that could have been heard a block. °

“I says: ‘What is this?’

“And they says: ‘This is football!’ And begun to kick
me all over the lot. I reckon they’d been playin’ football
with me yit if I hadn’t pulled my gun.”

“Ahaw, ahaw!” yelled Gamp, falling against the wall

to keep himself from falling on the floor.

“A little later some feller hollered ‘tackle,’ and I sailed
in. Why, they had a man down, and looked like they
wuz tryin’ to kill him. Then they wuz goin’ to kill me
agin. I says to ’em: ‘Gents, if you make any more
breaks like that you'll have to tie me, to keep me out of
it, fer I can’t see a feller tackled and killed without
jest natcherly goin’ to the help of the under dog. ’Tain’t
in me,’ I says.”

“Ahaw, ahaw!” Gamp roared, his face livid.

“And then, a minute later, they had a scrimmage. Out
on the ranges, when we git in a scrimmage, we’re sure
fightin’, and I thought that’s what they wuz doin’. Well,
there wuz a man down ag’in. I wuz startin’ in to help him
when he jumped up and run, and I prompt roped the feller
that wuz chasin’ him, as I couldn’t stand that. Gents, the
things that come my way after that wuz fierce.”

Frank Merriwell turned away.

“He doesn’t ring true,” he commented to Diamond, “He
may be a cowboy, but I doubt it. He seems to be playing
to the galleries.”

Almost an hour later Merry saw the alleged Hindu

_ passing by a side door of the hotel, and saw the cow-

boy, who was standing there, put up his hand in a queer
gesture. The dark-faced man halted, as if to speak
to him, then went on, as if he had changed his mind
or feared observation.

Consulting the hotel register, Merry looked for the

name of the Hindu in the lists of the hotel guests.

“The Hindu who is to be at the charity fair this even-
ing isn’t a guest here?” he asked the clerk, when he failed
to find the name.

“He isn’t stopping here,” said the clerk, and he did

‘not seem pleased with the question.

Further proof, to Merry’s mind, that the cowboy and
the Hindu were in partnership was furnished that even-
ing at the charity fair, to which Merriwell and his
friends went, getting there at a reasonably early hour.

The place was crowded, and the Hindu was far from
being the only attraction, for to many of the young men

of the place he was much the smallest of the attractions,

for there were beautiful flower girls in abundance, ready
to pin bouquets on any one who had the price. And there

were other beautiful girls who were posing as fortune
tellers, in attractively draped booths, reaay to tell to any
one the most marvelous things wnen tneir palms were
“crossed with silver.”

Joe Gamp was assured by one of these fairies that all
kinds of good fortune were coming to him; and all Joe
had to pay for this cheerful information was fifty cents.

“Dud-dirt cheap at that,” Joe asseverated; “fer, if half
the things cuc-come tut-true, I'll have such w-wads of long
green that I’ll have to gug-git a hay wagon to carry
o

Merriwell was anxious for the Hindu to come with
his performance, but as a drawing card, he was held back
until half the evening was past. When he did appear,
Merry glanced at those about him, to see if anything in
his appearance awakened in them old memories.

Inza, he saw, had paled, and her face was almost ghastly
under the bright lights.

“You're not well, sweetheart,” he said, suddenly solici-
tous; for, though he had half expected something of the
kind, this was so much worse than the expectation that he
was not sure but she had been attacked suddenly by illness.

Inza recovered something of her composure, but her
color did not immediately return.

“That man,” she whispered; “the Hindu!
remind you of some one, Frank?”

Doesn’t he

Merry looked again at the Hindu, and discovered that
he was staring, with his black, hypnoti¢ eyes, straight at
the group.

“He reminds you of some one?” he said, testing his own
fears further.

“Of Santanel! But he can’t be, of course; for—for San-
tanel is dead.”

“Santanel!” said Frank, and again looked so straight at
the Hindu that the black eyes were suddenly averted.
“Surely Santanel was drowned—drowned at New Haven,
long ago.” :

He looked at Carker and at Gamp. Gamp’s face showed
nothing. Greg Carker’s eyes had widened, and he, too,
was staring at the Hindu.

“Does he remind you of any one?” Frank whispefted
Carker sat close by him.”

Carker hesitated.

“The dead can’t come to life, Merry; otherwise——”

“Otherwise you would think the Hindu is Dion San-
tanel. He reminds me of him, and reminds Inza of
him. But this fellow is a Hindu—we suppose; and—
Santanel is dead.”

“Br-r-r-r!” said Carker, as if he shivered. “I guess
we made a mistake in coming here. I shan’t be able to
sleep to-night for thinking of the devil who tried so hard
to ruin you and kill you.”

The Hindu, when he began his performance, gave an
exhibition of the kind. of wizardry often seen on the
vaudeville stage. He broke an egg into a dish, poured a
liquid on it, set the liquid on fire, and covered the dish.
Then, after firing at the dish with a blunderbuss, he un-
covered it, and took out a live white pigeon.

“Ahaw, ahaw!” Gamp roared. “Pup-pup-purty good !”

Gamp, sitting next to Diamond, was roped with bou-
quets, which he had bought of the bewitching flower
girls, whose blandishments he had not been able to resist.
How many times Gamp had had his fortune told could
not be known; but if he remembered and believed all of

 
6 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

them, he must have felt that he was facing a very mixed
future.

That roaring laugh caught the attention of the Hindu,
and he beckoned to Gamp.

“If the gentleman will just come forward, it would. the
favor be to me,” he invited.

“Naw ye don’t,” Gamp roared, sitting tight;
I’m) foolish, but I don’t want tew advertise it.
other mum-mum-man.”

The Hindu picked out others, and invited them.

When no one -showed a disposition to be made the
“goat,” he arranged before him, on’ his little table, a
variation of, the ancient shell game, putting out three
little bells, and placing under one of them a black pellet,
the size of a pea. He began to shift the pea from bell
to bell, and invited any one to pick out the bell under
which he concealed it. Several in the audience selected
the bells they thought the pea had been placed under, but
they were always mistaken.

The juggler shifted the pea again, and, apparently,
every one could see under which bell it was placed.

“I am not allowed the gamble to make,” said the Hin-
du, in his soft voice, “otherwise 1 might offer a wager
to any one who can find the pea under the bell. Yet I
can do this: I can give of myself ten dollars to any
one who will pick out the bell holding the pea.”

Merry and all with him but Gamp were listening closely
to the talk of the faker. ‘Those soft, sibilant syllables—
could they be mistaken in thinking they were like the
soft, hissing speech which Santanel had on. occasion
used?

“Santanel reincarnated,” whispered Carker, and again
he seemed to shiver; “why, it seems to me I have seen
him do just the things this fellow is doing now. He
played a shell game with bells, instead of walnut shells.”

“That’s right,” said Diamond; “I remember it. But,
of course——”

“The explanation,” said Carker, “is probably that it’s
a common Hindu method of playing the shell game. San-
tanel posed as an East Indian at times.”

“Must be the explanation,” Diamond admitted, staring
at the Hindu.

“To make this. interesting,” said the Hindu, “if the
man trying for the prize of the ten dollars fails to
pick the pea, he must consent to assist me a little while
here on this stage.”

There was still silence, broken at last by the cowboy.
He jumped up suddenly and began to make his way
forward.

Seeing him coming, Santanel laid a ten-dollar bill on
the table by the bells.

“It is yours, my friend, if you win it.”

He put his hands on the bells, as if he meant to move
them again.

“Here, none 0’ that!” said the cowboy; “you’re goin’
to git me riled if you try that! I’ve got that little black
ball o’ yourn located, and I don’t want you to go to
mixin’ things up. I know right where ’tis: So keep
yer hands off.”

He strode up heavily in his high-heeled boots, put out
his hand, and lifted the bell on the left, under which all
had seen the black ball pushed by the faker’s supple
fingers.

But when the ball was lifted, there was nothing un-
der it.

“T know

Git an-

 

“Fooled!” said the cowboy, in a dazed manner.

“Ahaw, ‘ahaw!” Joe Gamp was roaring. . “He can’t fool
ye ag’in, naow that yeou’re cuc-cuc-cuc——”

The cowboy grinned.

“Naow that yeou’re cuc-cuc-cuc-close to him.”

“T’ve got a bale of long green that says he can’t.”

“If we were permitted the bet to make,” said the
Hindu unctuously; “but that we are not permit. Betting,
it is irreligious, and we nothing must do irreligious. I
am the Christian Hindu. But I can offer prize again
and onct more—and it is the ten dollars that you see
on the table.”

He began to shift the bells, with the pea held in his
slender fingers.

“Here, here,” the cowboy protésted;, “‘you’re goin’ too
fast fer me!”

The fingers of the Hindoo had been moving like light-

ning. He slowed his motions; then, as it seemed, he
>

tucked the pea under one of the bells.

“Wow!” the cowboy bellowed. “I got ye now! I seen
that slick’s a whistle. Right under this one—I seen it
go under.”

“Tf so, the ten is yours,” said the Hindu, smiling.

When the cowboy lifted the bell, nothing was un-
der: it.

“Fooled ag’in! Say, I’m easy!”

“Perhaps it is under the other bell,” the Hindoo stg-
gested; “you have two chances more.”

As there were but three bells, this seemed getierous.
The cowboy, lifting the bells, saw, to his apparent amaze-
ment, that it was under none of them.

“Tt fly away,” said the Hindu blandly. “You see; 1
have not got it.” He spread out his hands.”

Thén, smiling, he showed it, wedged under the long
nail of his right forefinger.
1

“Let me git out o’ this!” The cowboy staggered back.
g J g

“This is too much fer me.”

“Tt was the old game, hoary with age, yet highly divert-
ing to people like Gamp.

“But you have something forgot,” said the Hindoo;
“you aré now to be my assistant.”

With apparent sheepishness the cowboy climbed up be-
side him.

“No tricks,” he said, red-faced; “why, you could rob
a feller and make him think you was doin’ him a favor!
Keep yer hands away frum my pockets.”

Joe Gamp ‘was roaring again. He believed in the play
he saw before him, not once suspecting that the cowboy
was the Hindu’s confederate.

“It is the hypnotism I do now,” said the Hindu.

He made passes over the cowboy’s face, and he soon
had him “asleep,” and began to make him fight to get out
of a burning building and swat at bees that were sting-
ing him, to the infinite delight of Gamp, who roared so
much that his sides were aching, as he finally took his
way to the hotel with his friends.

CHAPTER IV.

CARKER IS STRUCK DOWN,

Inza Merriwell confessed that she was in a state of
terror. Speaking to Merry alone, she said:
“Whether, that man is Santanei or, not, I admit that

I’m scared blue. You must be careful, Frank; don’t go

 

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anywhere, unless you take Diamond or Carker with you,
or both of them. And warn them. Warn Gamp, too.”
“Thoughts of Santanel have made you nervous,’ he
urged.
“You almost believe yourself that man is Santanel.
Now, confess that you do. And if he is Santanel——”
“He will do something desperate?”
“You know that he will, Frank.
miracle that you escaped before.
Sanel, he will again try to kill you.”

It was almost a
If that man is San-

“You are not acting like my brave Inza,” he said.

“I know I’m not, but I can’t help it. I’m trembling
like a coward, for, if he is Santanel, and should strike
at you?” ‘

Her eyes were shining, her face pale with fear.

“Please warn Carker and Diamond and Gamp. You
Know Santanel’s method. He will strike at your friends,
as well as you, Perhaps he will strike at them first, to
terrorize you.’

“I know,” Merry Std, walking about the room; “yes,
I'll warn them. We may as well take precautions.”

He could not but recall that Santanel’s method in-
cluded mental torture quite as much as physical. San-
tanel would strike suddenly and deliver deadly blows
when it suited him—would strike without mercy; yet he
was as likely to try the slow methods of terror. To hold
the fear of death over the head of an enemy had been
a thing that delighted him, and if he could fill that fear
with horror, he was even more pleased. Merry had be-
lieved that Santanel could not be a sane man; yet he
had always seemed sane—seemed to possess a kind of
fiendish sanity that was filled with malevolent cunning.
He neyer forgot and never forgave. His hatred was
originally based, as he had declared, on the belief that
Frank’s father had swindled him out of a fortune. At
first he had’ struck at Frank because he thought it would
torture the elder Merriwell. Later it seemed that his
blows had been, given force by sheer vindictiveness, a
vindictiveness as — and venomous as the anger of a
rattlesnake.

At Inza’s urgent solicitation, Merry now did a thing
he rather disliked to do, as it seemed a showing of the
white feather in the presence of possible danger. He
-went down -to the clerk and asked for other rooms,

“The ones you have are.the best in the house,” said
the clerk, somewhat -surprised at the. request.

“T. know,” Merry. admitted; “yet we think we. should
like to change into others.. The Antlers is not very full
now, so you must have plenty of other rooms.”

Acting on Inza’s suggestion, he also induced the clerk
not to alter the numbers on the register.

“Til have to make-a note of this,”
very unusual, as you must know. If the rooms you
vacate are taken by other parties, I can’t keep these
numbers here, as the numbers of the rooms you are
occupying. We want to please you, you know,’ otherwise
I couldn’t possibly do it.”

The clerk was bewildered. Why did Frank Merriwell
want to change his rooms.and keep it a secret?

“I’ve never had a request like that before, Mr. Mer-
in all my experience,” he urged. “But we like
to please and accommodate our guests, and I will do this
until the rooms are taken by other parties.”

When the change of rooms had ‘been effected, and he

the clerk said; “it's

 

   

 

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. 7

saw that Inza had been made to feel better by it, Merry
went in search of his friends.

One by one he told them what he had done, and why,
and he gave them the warning, on which Inza had
insisted.

“You're thinking that Hindu is Santanel yourself,”
said Diamond, reading his face. “Is that right?”

“I confess I don’t know. When I think with, my
mind I say it is impossible, but when I think with my
feelings, I declare at once that the fellow is Santanel.”

“T see. Inza thinks with her emotions, like all women.
So she knows the Hindu is Santanel. I don’t suppose
we could get him out somewhere and give him a duck-
ing, and see if some of the dark Hindu complexion
won’t wash off?”

Diamond was trying to pass it off with a laugh; yet
when he recalled Merry’s serious manner and grave face,
he began to feel that it was no laughing matter.

Gamp’s amazement over Frank’s statement threw bim
into such a fit of stammering that for a minute he could

not speak.

“Sus-Sus-Sus-Santanel !
cuc-can’t be!”

“And look out for that cowboy,” Merry added... “For,
whoever the Hindu is, that cowboy is his confederate.”

“Gug-gug-gug-gug se

Gamp stopped trying to speak, and stood opening and
closing his mouth, like a gasping fish.

Gug-goshfry! Why, it cuc-

 

Before Merry went up to his rooms again, Diamond
returned to him.

“We can find where that Hindu ‘is stopping,” he said;
“that ought to be easy. We can buck up to him and
ask him straight who he is—take the bull by the horns.”

_ And if, he says he isn’t, ashe surely will?”

“Well, we couldn’t prove it, I suppose.”

“Jack, we could do nothing. Those attempts against
me were long ago, and far from here. Even when they
happened, it would have been hard to nail any thing ‘down
on him in a way that would stand test ‘in the courts.” .

“I know, Santanel was the cleverest rascal going. I
can’t think of anything else to suggest. It ‘160k8. “now
as if that Hindu aspired ‘that attack on you. in the
Pilot. And if he did——

“Go on.”

“Why, it proves that he is Santanel.”

“Just so,” ‘said Frank.

Merry kept a casual watch on the loud-mouthéd cow-
boy. However, the cowboy did not remain long in the
lobby. Some of the guests asked him troublesome ‘ques-
tions, apparently, about his hypnotic experiences, and-he
disappeared.

Greg Carker retired at a comparatively early hour.

In going to his new rooms, Merry passed the door of
Carker’s. As he did so he heard strange sounds within.
Instantly his hand was on the knob, The door was
locked. The sounds continuing, he knocked.

“Carker!” he called. “Carker!”

Getting no answer, and the singular gurgling continu-
ing, Merry put his shoulder against the door. The stout
panels so resisted that he ran to the nearest televhone
and called the office.

A man came up in the elevator at once with a bunch of
keys.

“This door,”

said Merry.

“It’s the room of my friend

     

  
   
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
   
   
  
  
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
   
  
 
 
  

‘thing to do with it.

‘ , lve been in a lot of trouble out here,”

 

8 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

Carker, and I’m afraid something is the matter ‘ with
hira.”

When the door was unlocked, he rushed in and snapped
on the lights.
~ Carker was lying in bed, breathing stertorously. His
face was so blue that Merry thought he was’ dying.
There were no finger prints on his throat and no marks
of choking.

Summoning the office, Merry asked: for a doctor to be
sent to Carker’s room quickly, and then he began efforts
to stimulate Carker into consciousness. The man* who
was with him hurried out to get Diamond and Gamp.

The man of medicine came, made an examination, ad-
ministered a heart stimulant, and showed that he was
puzzled.

“Is your friend given to heart trouble?” he asked.
“The circulation is depressed.”

“Never heard of it,” said Diamond, staring-eyed, for he,
like Merry, was thinking of Santanel.

“He hasn’t been melancholy lately?” the doctor in-

quired.
“Gug-gug-great Jupiter!” cried Gamp. “Nothing could
depress him, unless it was that his earthquake dud-dud-
didn’t arrive on time. Cuc-couldn’t even depress him
when they pup-pup-pup-put him in jail.”

“Jail?”

“Down in Trinidad,” Merry explained; “he was jailed
there on a flimsy charge. He had been preaching socialisin
to the striking miners.”

“Ah, I see!” said the doctor, looking suddenly. wise.
“This ‘is an attempt at suicide, induced by the feeling
that he was disgraced by being jailed?”

They assured him that he was much mistaken. Yet
he assumed the correctness of his theory and set to work
with vigor, now that he had a basis for his diagnosis.

It was long past midnight before Greg Carker was
brought out of his deathlike stupor. Those who watched
and assisted the doctor were by that time thoroughly
convinced that whatever the meaning might be, Carker
would have passed into the great beyond if he had not
been given prompt assistance.

“In the morning, Merry had a talk with Carker when
the latter had sufficiently recovered.

“T don’t know what happened,” Carker informed him;
“but if I was drugged; I may be able to account for it.
I had a feeling, when I came into the room, that some
one had been here ahead of. me, but I put it aside. I
thought, anyway, that it could have been only the cham-
bermaid, and that she had been using some kind of per-
fume, for there was an odor in the room, I was. thirsty,
and before I went to bed I took a big drink of water,
out of the pitcher that was there. Then I turned in.
After that I know nothing.

“But,” he added, “even if I was drugged, it’s no sign
that your Hindu, or Santanel, or-whoever he is, had any-
I think I know who did it.”

“Let us have it,” Merry invited, relieved; “no one can
be as bad as Santanel.”
said Carker,
as&yyou know. I’ve made loads’ of enemies. Even some
of the laboring men I’vé tried to help are my bitter
enemies, because they haven’t liked my doctrines of
socialism, So, when I say I know who did it, I don’t
mean it literally. I only mean that it was done by one

6e.

 

 

of the enemiés I’ve made. So, Merry, you can put San-
tanel out of your mind.”

Inza, however, would not credit that, and
sure the blow had been struck by Santanel.

“Tt was just like: him,” she said.

she was

CHAPTER V.
JUST A CUT FINGER.

That afternoon the Pilot came out with another tiradg
It was as follows:

“The notorious Greg Carker, close friend and chum™

of the gentlemanly four-flusher known as Frank Merri-
well, has got down to the level of the hobo whiner who
exhibits his sore toe to create sympathy and gain bread.
He knows he is a down-and-outer. So he threw a dope
fit last night, and is making the claim that some of fis
enemies poisoned his drinking water. It’s the general
opinion of those who know, that when Carker touches
so plebeian a drink as common water it will only be
when all the booze shops and drug stores have been
warned against him. Any one who has ever heard one
of his rabid speeches has no need to be told that he is
a dope fiend. Only a mind clouded by dope could utter
the political nonsense that comes out of the fogged area
that he thinks is his mind. Carker, the people are on to
you! Your latest sympathy racket will fail to squeeze
salt tears out of the eyes of any one.. Even the work-
ingmen you claim to love so much have long since seen
what a hypocrite you are. So the next time you jab
the hypodermic under your thick cuticle don’t expect
any sensible than to believe that you didn’t do it your-
self, and only got a bigger dose than is your normal
allowance.”

So incensed was Jack Diamond when he read. this
that he flung out of the hotel, and was well on his way
to the Pilot office before Merry knew it and set out
after him.

Joe Gamp went along with Merry, stuttering his in-
dignation. Carker was still in his room, in bed,

When they arrived at the Pilot office, expecting to find
trouble, they saw only Jack Diamond, sitting in a chair
by the editorial desk, frowning at the offensive article
in the paper.

As they invaded the office, Diamond turned on them
abruptly, expecting to meet the editor, who was out. His
frown deepened.

“I know what you want,” he said “elk “but I’ve
come here to make this editor eat his words, and I’ll stay
till I do: it.”

“Pup-pup-pup-p’r’aps he'll eat you,”
morously. “Besides, it will j-jest give: him a ch-chance
to come back at ye in the paper.”

“Gamp is right,” said Merry; “the man who goes up
against the editor of a newspaper ought to understand
that the cards are stacked against him, for the editor

can say what he pleases and scatter it wide, and the

”

other fellow——

“The other fellow can lick him!” said Diamond.

Merry laughed, and took a chair.

“See here, Jack, ” he said,
One is that I believe in free speech.
paper, particularly if its violence consists in lies, injures
only itself.”

“you know my principles.

Gamp urged hu-

A violent news-.

 

    

 

 

-_ —- Aa As
EE. SO eteterindg

 

 

  

 

NEW

 

“Carker’s your friend! Don’t you intend to stand up
for your friend?”

“Assuredly I do, but not in-that way. Just look at this
thing in a fair way, as a friend of Carker. One of
the things that Carker demands for himself is free speech.
How can he justly demand free speech for himself if
his friends deny the right of free speech to his enémies?
see how inconsistent that is, Jack. Let Carker say
Whatever he pleases, in speech, and let this man say
what he pleases, in his paper. The public can always be
trusted to sift the truth from the falsehood, in the end.
If this editor tells lies, the people will soon brand him
as a liar and refuse to believe his utterances. That’s
what gives power to a free press, in a free country.”

“You're willing for him to print lies about you?”

“I don’t enjoy it, of course.”

“He can injure you—injure your reputation, and he’s
doing it right now, in this town.”

“He can’t injure me with my friends and, those who
know me—they’re all who really count, and, in the long
run, he can’t injure me with anybody.”

They were still talking, when a shadow darkened the
door. They expected to see the editor. But the. man
who stood there was the Hindu.

He looked confused, and would have retreated, but
when he saw that the men at the desk were all look-
ing at him, he came on in, with a sort of bravado.

“It is the editor that I would the word with,” he
said.

Behind the pupils of his black eyes lay a strange gleam,
Suggestive of the glow of live coals, as he looked at
Frank Merriwell.

“The editor seems to be out,” said Merry; “but in the
room back of this there are some compositors, I think.”

One of the compositors came to the connecting door,
a slight girl, simply dressed, and with luminous brown
eyes. She held a stick of type in her hand. Merry stood
up, lifting his hat, when he saw her. He had’ thought
the compositors were boys, or men.

The girl looked at the Hindu.

“My brother isn’t in,”
I can do for you?”

she said. “Is there, something
There was. The Hindu had some “copy” he wished
to leave. ; :

“I think you are the Mr. Frank Merriwell,” he said,
in his. soft voice, with a peculiar accent.
a out. to. me last. nights. Even .in.the far-away

ast I have heard of you. In Japan I hear’ of your
brother. Dick, when he .baseball teams through that coun-
try some years ago. And in this paper here I see the
Merriwells and their friends are wonders of the world.”

What was there in those strangely burning eyes, in the
soft slurring of that voice, in the scarcely covered sneer
of the words, that struck a cold chill to the stout heart
of Frank Merriwell? It was not fear. It was a feeling
such as might be produced by laying the hand suddenly
on the cold back of a snake.

“You were

Merry was still standing, as when the girl had turned
back into the composing room. Gamp was standing near
him, but Diamond had dropped again into his chair by the
desk.

His words purring on, the Hindu held out his hand,
as if he desired to clasp that of so great a man as Frank
Merriwell,

   

ae TOP \WEBALY. 9

As though he did not see it, Frank glanced at the paper
that was held in Diamond’s stiffened fingers.

Impulsive Joe Gamp put out his hand, thinking the
extended brown palm was being offered to him, and shook
hands with the Hindu. He had not felt the chill of the
Hindu’s presence, nor had he noticed the under méaning
of the words. Apparently, the Hindu had been praising
the Merriwells, a thing to please and win Gamp at any
time.

Yet even before Gamp’s hand fell out of the seem-
ingly limp fingers of the Hindu, he was wondering why
he had permitted himself to shake hands with a man
who was regarded by Merry as a bitter enemy.

The Hindu glided past, and was gone from the room
after that handclasp.

“Gug-gug-gug-goshfry! What an idiot I be!” said
Gamp. “Say, that critter had me hypn’tized. My hand
jest went into hisn "fore I knowed it. And finger nails!
D’yever see sech finger nails? Sharp ‘as razors. One of
7em cut me lul-like a knife.”

He exhibited his hand, with one of his fingers bleed-
ing from a slight cut on the inner side.

Merry looked queer when he saw it, He seemed about
to say something, but checked it as he glanced toward
the cémposing room.

“Jack,” he said, “we’ré going back to the hotel.”

Jack Diamond did not protest. He had seen the quick
change in Merry when the bleeding finger was exhibited,
and his face had paled, too.

“All right,” he assented, jumping up.

As they gained the door, he asked, in low tones:

“Think something is wrong with that cut, Merry? If
that man is Santanel "

 

When they came out in the street the cowboy clattered
by them in his high-heeled boots, apparently without see-
ing them. He had come from the direction taken by ‘the
Hindu in departing from the office, and he was singing,
in a reckless voice: :

“I stood on the bridge at Denver=
*Twas the bridge of the half back’s nose.”

He turned about.

“Hello!” he cried.’ “Somethin’ told me this was you
fellers.- I.been learnin’ that-song frum one o” the football
boys. Sence our little roocus they’ve adopted me, and
I’m learnin’ the: game. -Cut- yer hand?” he added, noting
the blood that had trickled down Gamp’s fingers. .

Gamp stared at him with suspicion, recalling that Merry
had said he was the Hindu’s confederate.

“Jest. sus-sus-sprained it.”

“Sprained it?”

“Gug-gug-gug-gug-got. some ruh-red ink on-my hand
in the pup-printin’ office,” said Gamp, extricating himself
with difficulty.

“Oh, I see! Looks mighty like blood.”

The cowboy. wanted to detain Gamp and look at the
cut. Diamond’s eyes began to blaze. Merry was as
distrustful as Diamond. Had the cowboy been’sent by
the Hindu to keep Gamp dallying along until the poison,
if there was poison, had worked into the circulation? It
seemed even more than a possibility.

“We're in a hurry,” said Merry; “so you'll excuse «as >
if we go right on.”

The cowboy gave him a killing look.

“T was talkin’ with your friend here, I think,” he
snarled,

  
 

 

10 NEW ‘TIP “TOP WEEKLY,

“Stand out of the -way,” said Merry, his :eyes blaz-

ing.

The cowboy fell back, ducking.-as if ~-he dodged a

‘blow.

Yet as they ‘went on, htirrying, it seemed fodlish—this
resentment of the cowboy’s actions and the fear that there
was poison in the cut: in’ Gamp’s finger.

Nevertheless, they turned in at the first doctor’s office
they came to). The office, as it happened, was that of the
doctor who: had: been: called to see Grég.Carker.- For-
tunately -~he was in, and alone; so they were not com-
pelled to- wait.

“We want you to sterilize this cut,” said Merry; “I
have what is perhaps a foolish fear that there is poison
in it, or some form of infection.”

As the doctor looked at it, Merry, after ‘hesitation,
added: ;

“Last night, when you were summoned to see Carker
at the hotel, you will recall that you thought he had tried
to commit suicide, and that he claimed. he had taken a
big drink of water.that may have been poisoned. Un-
fortunately I had used the water left in the pitcher in
bathing his head, and there was, then, no possibility of
analyzing it. If there is poison in this cut,. could the
little blood you see there be analyzed?”

The doctor looked up with a start of surprise.

“What makes you suspicious of this cut? How was it
made ?”

. “We have reasons for not speaking of that now.
can the blood: be analyzed?”

The doctor scraped it away with a scalpel and. stuck
the scalpel into an empty bottle. : ve

“lll see what can -be done with it, should it: prove
necessary... -This seems an ordinary cut, possibly made
with a knife, or a piece of glass. I'll sterilize it.”

“Gug-gug-goshfry!” Gamp shivered. “Yeou’re gug-gug-
gittin’ me scared tew dud-death. Jest because that’ cuc-
critter cut. me with his finger nail——”

“He stopped, with his mouth open.

“Wh-what’m I sus-sayin’? Ahaw, ahaw!” He broke
into his roaring laugh, to cover up. his confusion.

“There might be infection in a cut from a. finger nail,”
said the doctor, wondering why there should be any
mystery in a thing like that.

They went on to their hotel, when the cut had been
attended to. Gamp, asked when they got there, how he
felt, said he felt the same as ever,

“Test fuf-foolish,” he explained.

Half an hour later Gamp was carried to his room,
insensible.

But

CHAPTER VI.

DIAMOND’S QUEER EXPERIENCE.

While the bewildered doctor was using his utmost skill
to keep the breath of life in the body of Joe Gamp,
Jack Diamond slipped away from the hotel.

It was evening. For so long a time had Gamp lain
Rep etecions.

\Diampnd did not tell Merry his intentions, nor even
that he thought of departing. He knew Merry was so ab-
sorbed that his departure would not be noticed for at
least a time. Besides, he knew that even if Merry knew
he had gone, and desired to have» him return, Merry

would not leave Inza, and,
follow and interfere. '

Diamond had learned where the Hindu was stopping,
and he went there. He meant to have it out’with the
Hindu, and learn something, if- he did no-more.: > * *

The house was’a combination lodging “and boarding
house, and he. had heard that the Hindu=had ‘set-up as
a fortune teller there,-now that there was no longer any

money for him in the rdle:he had béen playing.

“Can I get my fortune told here?” Diamond asked
airily of the girl who came to the door. “I was so
informed.”

“Step this way, please,”
ushered into the hall.

Before him was a stairway.

“First flight. up,’ said the girl; “turn to the right.”

Diamond began to mount the stairs.

tie would call a halt on this if he knew abous

* -he was thinking; “but he won’t know about: it-antil
ie all over... I’m going to interview this Hindu, -or
Santanel, or whoever he is. Merry says we can’t get at
him by law for what Jhas happened, and that a case
against him on the mere fact that his finger nail scratched
Gamp’s hand would be laughed out of court. That’s
right, for it sounds too silly for. belief. Yet there is
Gamp, and he may die of it. And there is Greg Carker,
Of course, in’ Carker’s case, we can’t prave that the
Hindu was even near him.

“What if he wasn’t?” came an added thought. “What
if something. else struck Gamp down; and struck.Carker
down? We can hope, then, that there will be no: more
of it.
and that the Hindu is Santanel,

therefore, Merry. could: not

she invited, and Jack was

none of us is safe a

minute. I could see that Merry is frightened—not for
himself, but for Inza.. If that devil should strike. at
Inza. ” -

 

At the top of the stairs Diamond turned to the’ right.
He was in a long corridor. Before one of the doors
a red light was burning, and he made for it, and he
saw, when he reached the door, that on the panels was
the word: Clairvoyant.

Diamond rapped on the door.

When it was opened he was given a shock of surprise.
For, instead of the Hindu, he was in the presence ‘of
a most bewitching dark-eyed beauty, who. was dressed in
shimmering silk of a reddish hue, and had a wealth of
black hair piled in a coil on her shapely head. The only
thing that marred the picture for Diamond was: that a
huge black cat, with marvelous yellow eyes, rested on
her shoulder.

Believing that the girl was the Hindu’s servant, Dia-
mond walked on in, at her invitation, noting, as the door
closed behind him, that the lights in the room were red,
like the one outside the door, and that the room was
either hung with red curtains or the red light gave them
that, color.

Having been conducted to a chair at the opposite end of
the room, Jack, without accepting the. chair, asked to see
the fortune teller.

“T am the fortune teller,” the girl informed him.

“You? 1 thought it was the Hindu!”

“T am the daughter of the Hindu.”

Diamond slid into his chair, too surprised to do anything

else,

“You came to get your fortune told, of course Pe

But if we're right in thinking it was the: Hindu, ~

 

 

 
  

 

—————

oo et

pest” cae

 

 

 

 

ra
«

~ iemimiaemadiaetl
=~

very foolish.”

NEW

“A Hindu!” was his thought. “She is no more Hindu

* than I am; and that shows that the Hindu isn’t a
Hindu.”

“II came to see the—Hindu!”

A musical laugh gurgled.

“T am the Hindu—the fortune-telling Hindu.”

“But you—are an American,” said Diamond; “that
is, 1 should take you for one,” he added, making a des-
perate effort to regain and retain his customary gallantry
Of demeanor in the presence of a woman, and that meant
any woman, for Diamond was as courteous to a serv-
ing maid in rags as to a lady in silk attire.

“Say that I am half Hindu,” she said, laughing again,
for his face revealed his bewilderment; “say half Hin-
du, and it will be about right. On the Hindu side, I
come of a race of fortune tellers. You will not  be-

tieve that, of course; American men seldom believe in,

or consult, a fortune teller.”

_ “t—really must admit that I didn’t come here to have
my fortune told, but that I came to see your father.”
"You do not believe in fortunes?”

“Qh, yes, I believe in fortunes.”

“But not in fortune telling. That was a clever eva-
sion. You are a very clever man, Mr. Diamond.”

“Ha! You knew my name.”

“Haven’t I been saying that I am a fortune teller? I
know not only your name, but your past, and your
future; and the past and future of any close friends you
may have; that is, I will know all those things as soon
as I have had time to trance the information.”

“You go into a trance?” said Diamond, beginning to
feel. even more uncomfortable.

"You might not know that I did. I just sit and look
at you.”

Diamond pulled up his galloping wits.

“T must believe you when you declare it.”

“Said like a Southern gentleman. Now, where shall
I begin?”

“You haven't gone into your trance,” he reminded.

“Am 1 not looking at you?”

“T fear you are—rather jesting. Of course, you have
seen me on the streets here, and seen me with my friends,
and so it is not surprising that you know sdmething- about
me, and about them.”

He would not add, what was in his mind, that, as she
was the Hindu’s daughter, and that perhaps the Hindu
was Santanel, she had been informed by her father of
many things.

“You still do not believe that I can tell your fortune?”
he heard her saying.

“Yes, I believe that you can.”

“Tt would be so grossly impolite not to say that, you
think. Just why did you wish to see my father, Mr.

Diamond ?”

“You know, of cotrse, because you are a fortune
teller.”

“Yes, I know,” she said, taking a seat on a chair be-
fore him, and looking at him with such steadiness that
he flushed. “You came hére to threaten him.”

“If that is a part of your fortune-telling knowledge, it
would be futile for me to try to deny it,’ he ad-
mitted.

“Futile and foolish. You expected to beat him with
words, and then perhaps beat him with your fists. All

ffP TOP: WEEKLY.

    

    

“I came to find out who he is!”

“Yes, I know. Shall I tell you?”

“Yes, I beg, of you.”

“His name is Santanel.”

“You—you admit it; you-——”

“I am not ashamed of my name.”

“Oh, of course, it’s your time, too. But I didn’t——”

“IT know. You didn’t for an instant suppose that I
would refer to the terrible things that the Merriwells
have done against Santanel: the huge fortune that Frank
Merriwell’s father swindled him out of, and the attempt
of Frank to drown him in New Haven. The——”

“That is a mistake.”

“The times without number that the Merriwells have
struck at Santanel, I know all about.”

“And now he is striking back, you mean? But Frank
didn’t drown him at New Haven, nor try to; and what-
ever Frank’s father did, or not do, Frank isn’t respon- —
sible for that.”

“Who drowned him at New Haven, then?”

“Why—he wasn’t drowned, of course; he’s here now,
as you have admitted. He has begun to strike at my
friends. If you know the things you say you do, you
know that your father tried to poison Carker last night,
and that to-day, in shaking hands with Joe Gamp, he
contrived to cut Gamp in the finger,;.and the poor fellow
is now hovering between life and death.”

The girl’s eyes seemed blazing, as Diamond looked into.
them. He drew his gaze away with an effort. The
thought struck through him that she was trying to hypno-
tize him. He was almost ready to leap from his chair
and rush from the room. ws

A queer laugh came from her lips. It was musical
laughter, yet it had a chilling effect.

“Suppose that all you say is true?” she asked.

Diamond drew himself up with an effort, and was
aware that he was trembling, And he recalled that his
words to-this woman had been too harsh.

“T beg your pardon for what I was saying. I hope
you will excuse it, on the ground that my anxiety for my

friends got the better of my judgment. I had no right

to make those charges‘against your father—to you.”

“But suppose they are true?”

“We should be compelled to defend ourselves.”

“How ?”

Diamond could not answer.

“Your charges are so absurd that no sensible judge
would listen to them. ‘You dare not kill my father, for
that would be murder, and you would be punished for
his murder, no matter what you may think he is.”

Diamond was again staring into those blazing eyes.
They held and fascinated him. It seemed that he was
no longer looking at a beautiful woman, but at a cobra,
whose head lifted and swayed.

“So you can see how futile it is to fight him—to strike
at him, and that the only thing for you and your friends
to do, if they would be safe, is to leave this town at
once.”

“Never!” Diamond declared, shaking himself free with
an effort. “Merry and his friends haven’t yet acquired
the habit of running from enemies. Besides, we’ve got
to know about your father—this man Santanel, and the
things you say.” :

Jack Diamond did not believe much in hypnotism, the
ordinary variety; he always suspected collusion, as in
12 | NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

the case of the Hindu and his cowboy confederate. But
a fear of it came over him so strongly now that with
difficulty he cast it off, and turned, breaking the spell
of those staring eyes.

Diamond’s nerves were so taut that he fairly leaped
in his chair when the black cat rubbed against his
legs.

“I must go,” he said, snatching up his hat and rising.

“Five dollars, please,” said the girl smoothly.

Diamond fumbled and drew out a bill, This was an
outrage, he knew; yet he felt that he must pay it, inas-
much as she demanded it.

“My recollection is that I haven’t had my fortune told,”
he said, “but we'll not quibble about it.”

He laid a five-dollar bill on the arm of her chair.

“Y’'m going to tell you more now. Sit down again,
please.”

“T think I had better hee: going.”

“You will find it very interesting,” the girl purred,
again trying to get his eyes. “First, Mr. Carker; then
Mr. Gamp; then Mr. Diamond, and

“Go on,” he said hoarsely, sinking back.

“Then Mrs. Merriwell

“Tf Santanel so much as harms a hair of her head——”

“And then Mr. Merriwell!. And all by quite natural
means, apparently. No suspicion that can be made
to stand, All very natural. Just like this—puff—and
they’re gone.”

That quick puff of her breath seemed to light a torch
at Diamond’s elbow. At any rate, a red-fire-colored torch
sprang alight there, sending: up a smoke like thick incense,

He heard the laughing retreat of the girl as the smoke
began to fill the room,

With a thrill of fear that drew his heart into his throat
and started a cold sweat on his body, Diamond got out
of his chair and turned toward the door. When he
reached it, he found that it was locked.

“Here!” he called, turning round. “This door is
locked !”

From far off, as it seemed, came the girl’s bewildering
laughter.

 

 

i

CHAPTER VII.
FRANK MERRIWELL.

“Diamond has gone out on a hunt for trouble, and is
sure to find it,” said Merriwell, speaking to Inza.

“Save us from our friends,” she said; “of course, you
want to follow him, to keep him out of it, and will get
into trouble yourself. I'd like to shake him.”

“Jack has his faults, and is hot-headed, but there never
was a truer friend.”

“He is medieval—a back number. He thinks the-only
way to fight an enemy is to knock him down, or fight a
duel with him. Besides, I don’t think you ought to follow
him and leave me here alone.”

“Tl’ve been in to see Carker,’ said Merry, as if evad-
ing this. “I found him sitting up, in his chair, reading—
the Pilot.. And Gamp has so far recovered that he is
quite out of danger. Both Gamp and Carker suffered
from muscle cramps, and that doctor says now it was
ptomaine poisoning. If he is right——”

“Which you know he isn’t, Frank.”

Merry made a wry face. He believed the doctor was
honestly mistaken.

“But if the doctor is right, we have been foolishly
scared, and have nothing at all to fear. We haven't

even convinced ourselves yet. that the Hindu is San-~

tanel.”

“What do you intend to do—if you follow Jack?” she
asked anxiously.

“I think he will go to the office of the Pilot. He will
have words with the editor, and perhaps more. Toa-mor-
row there will be another attack on me in its columns, I
should not mind that, but it’s sure to influence the
opinions of a good many people temporarily, and will
help to spoil our. vacation.”

Inza’s face lighted in its old attractive way.

“Our vacation! That’s amusing, Frank.”

How could any one enjoy a vacation, with a man ‘hlke
Dion Santanel delivering his unheralded blows in his old
mysterious and fiendish way—the vacation was ae
spoiled! -

“You'll have no need of apprehension while I’m gone,
if you will undertake to remain with the nurse in Gamp’s
room,” he urged. “Very likely you can be useful, there,
too.” eo
“Frank, dear,” said Inza, “I’m not afraid so much for
myself.” os

“For me? Forget it! Let’s say that Diamond is a
hot-head, and is rushing into possible danger through
his wrong notion that by doing so he is helping me;
and then acknowledge that the obligation of friendship
makes it necessary for me to help him, or see that he
doesn’t get himself harmed. You know as well as I
do——”

“Yes, I know, and, of course, I won’t keep you here.
Rope him and tie him and lock him in his room. Then
chloroform him. Do something to keep him still. And
look out for Santanel.”

“Good-by,” Merry said, and kissed her; “I'll be gone
a very little while. I’m pretty sure to find Diamond in
the Pilot office, like the bull in the china ‘shop, and if
I want to keep the crockery, from being smashed, I’ve
got to hurry.” :

 

Merry hastened off, with a wave of his hand, and a
light manner that was assumed. Would danger come to
Inza while he was gone from the hotel? The thought
troubled him, and he was in a mood to censure Jack
Diamond.

“Why is it,’ he mused, as he walked along, “that a
fellow who is so bright and clever, so sensible in most
things, can’t control his temper? Diamond goes about
like a burning candle in a powder magazine, or a fool
in a cellar, hunting for a gas leak with a light. I feel
like hammering him.” t

Yet he knew he would do nothing of the sort. The
thousand and one kindnesses that Jack Diamond had
done him, the risks Diamond had taken, the dangers he
had been through, and all to help Merriwell, precluded
that. In the old days, when they ‘did not know each
other very well, and had been, in a sense, rivals, there
had been a good deal of that “hammerihg,’ as well as
worse things. But it could never occur again; no matter
what happened.

Merry was thinking of Inza in possible danger at the
hotel, quite as much as of Diamond’s recklessness and
possible danger elsewhere, as he hurried on.

On entering the Pilot office, he was disappointed at not ~

finding Diamond there.

 

af

<

:

 

 

 
i)

 

   

doesn’t even drink.

But the editor was in, bending at his desk, writing; and
there were lights in the compositors’ room.

Merry had never met the editor before. He saw a
sparely built and rather strenuous-looking young man,
who did not seem the fire eater that his stinging edi-
torials indicated. In fact, Merry was rather pleased with
the young editor’s appearance.

“Ah! Mr. Merriwell, I believe?” said the editor, stiffen-
ing in his chair almost as if he expected Merry to pitch

fat hhitn.

“My friend Jack Diamond
evening ?”

hasn’t called here this
The young editor laughed, relieved to see that Merry
was not going to attack him, and twirled his pencil.
“He was coming here to chew me up?
pecting it, from some things I’ve heard.
been making threats.”

I’ve been ex-
I heard he had

“Jack is a bit impetuous. A good fellow, though. You
would say so yourself if you could only know him. And,

really, Carker is a fine fellow—though you have been

attacking’ him so bitterly.”

“That socialistic dope fiend !”

“He isn’t a dope fiend. I happen to know that he
He’s a royal good fellow. You
ought to be friends, instead of enemies, Just because
people can’t agree politically is no good reason why they
can't be friends. Carker would willingly meet you more
than halfway; tliere is nothing personal in his eénmity—
it’s purely political.”

“That anarchist !”

“He isn’t an anarchist.”

Merry went on in defense of his friend Carker. Not
until he had left the office did the editor notice that he

had said not a word about the bitter editorial attacks '

made on himself,

Merry had not meant to remain a minute in the office

-of the Pilot, after discovering that Diamond was not

there, yet had lingered in his efforts to set Carker right
in the eyes of a young man whose prejudiced opinions
were important only because he controlled the editorial
pages of the little sheet he called the Pilot.

A bit uncertain what to do now, and impelled to re-
turn at once to the Antlers, Merry would have done so, if
he had not been suddenly deflected by the recollection
that Diamond had told him, that afternoon, he had heard
where the Hindu was stopping.

Recalling the street and number, Merry went in that
direction, with the growing conviction that Diamond had
gone there, and it had been a mistake and serious waste
of time to look for him elsewhere.

He came at last, to the door of the house showing
the number he had been seeking, and rang the bell. Of
the young woman who came to the door, he asked:

“I wonder if you can tell me if Mr. Jack Diamond has
been here this evening?”

“Y’m sure I don’t know,” she said.
called.”

“To see the Hindu? He is stopping here, I believe?”

“I understand the gentleman came to get his fortune
told.”

“Ah! Is he here yet?”

“T think he hasn’t left.”

Merry pushed on into the hall, feeling that. the girl
might close the door against him.

“A gentleman

 

   

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. 13»

“I think J will see the
said.

The girl closed the door.

“One flight up;'turn to the right.”

Merry was sure, while mounting the stairs, that the
fortune teller was the Hindu, or Santanel, and he was
wondering what had befallen Diamond, if they. had
encountered.

fortune teller myself,’ he

As he turned, at the top of the flight, into the corridor
on the right, and saw the red lamp, he at the same time
heard a jarring blow on a door and what seemed a choking
call for help.

“Diamond?” he thought, and leaped along the corridor.

The blow on the door came again, but feebler, and
again the choking cry sounded. It could hardly have
been heard downstairs, and not at all out in the street.

Before the door holding the clairvoyant’s sign Merry
stopped, believing this to be the door, but waiting for the
blow and the call to sound again. Beyond the door there
was a scuffling noise, quickly succeeded by a heavy
fall.

For a moment Merry hesitated, after trying the door.
The proper thing to do was to go back downstairs and
speak to the girl at the door and get a key; yet that
would take time, and time might be a matter of the first
importance. Yet he did not know that Diamond was be-
yond the door, or that anybody was in the room there
who needed help,

The groan that followed the fall drove away his, hesi-
tation. ‘Withdrawing across the narrow hall, he rammed
the door, driving into it with his powerful shoulders.

It took a second blow, heavier than the first—a blow
that would have broken the shoulder of. an ordinary man
—to tear the lock from its holding and hurl the door
inward on its hinges.

A heavy, reddish smoke rolled out of the open door-
way, as Merry plunged through.

You here? Diamond!”

As he groped his way, the smoke began to stifle him.
It had a sweetish, sickening odor, and it cut into his
lungs.

“Diamond !”

He stumbled against something on the floor, and dis-
covered it was the body of a man.

“Diamond !

“Diamond!” he said, gasping; and began to drag him
out of the room.

Out into the corridor he plunged, dragging the body
as if it were a bale of goods. Then he lifted it, heaving
it to his shoulders, and made a wild dash for the
stairway.

Noi until he had the man downstairs, under the light
of the hall lamp; could he be sure that it was Diamond
that he had rescued.

The girl who had admitted him at the outer door came
running into the hall,

“T don’t understand this,” said Merry; “but there’s a
room upstairs that is filled with smoke, and the house
may be burning; you’d better look to it.”

Diamond, now unconscious, needed his attention.

“Look out, when you get up there,” Merry warned.
He was coughing so much he could hardly speak. “That
smoke nearly stopped my breathing. Better get help.”
He turned to Diamond.

   
 

   

14 NEW

When the girl came downstairs a few minutes later
there was no one in the lower hall, where she had left
Merriwell and Diamond.

CHAPTER VIII.
MERRIWELL FACES HIS ENEMY.

The cab that stopped before the doctor’s office bore
‘Frank -MerriweH and Jack Diamond, the former very
much alive and alert, the latter semiconscious.

Merry carried Diamond into the office.

Others callers were there, but Merry gained the doc-
tor’s ear, and made him understand the imperative need
of giving Diamond his immediate attention.

“T can’t explain what happened,” he said;
another of the mysterious cases you’ve been asked to
treat lately. I have my theories. The important thing
right now is to get busy with Diamond. But I can
say this: I found him in the Hindu’s boarding house,
in the room where the Hindu has set up as a fortune
teller. He had* fallen. unconscious on the floor, and the
room was filled with a red-colored, choking smoke. I
got some of it, and it cut into my lungs and nearly
stopped my breath.”

“but it’s

As soon as the doctor got to work, Merry called Inza,
at the Antlers, over the doctor’s telephone.

“I thought you might be anxious,” he said; “so I’m
reporting and explaining things up to date.”

Then he told her where and how he had found Dia-
mand, and where they were at that moment.

“I think that Jack is not in a serious condition,” he
said; “I got there in time, I believe. He must have had
a queer experience, Which we'll hope to learn all about
ina little while. . . . Come back to the Antlers? I
will soon, and will bring Jack with me. Gamp is
doing well, and Carker was in to see him! That’s good.
Well, don’t worry; I’m all right, here at the doctor’s.

Good-by.”

Merry hung up the receiver, and went in to see what
progress Diamond was making.

In a little while he was back at the phone, informing
Inza that the doctor thought it would be an hour or
two before Diamond could be removed to the hotel,

“He’s in no danger. It is simply a case of asphyxia-
tion, from which he is recovering.”

The man of medicine looked at Merry.

“It’s a singular series of accidents your friends have
met. There was a fire in that room, of course,’ and he
got caught in the smoke.”

“It was red smoke.”

“Any smoke looks red at night, with a fire behind it;
the house may be burned down by now, if the fire had
a good start. You didn’t see the Hindu there?” °

Merry had intended, when he spoke to Inza over the
phone, to remain at the doctor’s office until Diamond was
able to be taken to the hotel, then accompany him.

Soon he changed his plans. Two hours might be, in
that way, wasted, and two hours’ time might be valuable.
He began to feel that Santanel was taking his friends by
turn, to throw a scare into him, and that the villain would
soon strike again—strike Inza.

To forestall that dreaded blow, the wise and brave thing
to do seemed to be to move at once on Santanel. Merry
recalled the axiom of Forrest, one of the best of the
Confederate cavalry commanders, stating that the way to

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

  

defeat an enemy is to “Git thar fust, and with the mostest
men.”

Apparently the time for temporizing with Santanel
had passed. Merry would move on him, and strike a
blow, though in what manner he did not now know.

He did not phone this to Inza. Inza was brave, but
there was no use in burdening her with further anxiety,

Having arranged with the doctor that Diamond was to
be told as soon as possible what had occurred, so far as
it was known, and that Merry had gone to the Hindu’s
for an interview, Merry set out.

The driver of the cab was still awaiting him, having
been ordered to do so. And Merry was soon being whirled
away to the Hindu’s boarding house.

The doctor’s conjecture that the house had been de-
stroyed was seen to have no basis in fact, for there had
been no fire, and hardly a person was in the street.

“Wait at the corner for me,” Merry instructed the cab
driver, and rang the bell. i

The girl appeared again. She was startled at seemg
him, He had been in the hall, with an unconscious man;
had told her about a smoke in the fortune teller’s room,
and had been gone with the man when she came down.

“The fire is out?” he said, stepping into the hall.

“There was no fire,” she said.

“No? What about the smoke?”

“Incense that the fortune teller burns now and then.”

SOnF*

“Did you wish to see her?”

“Her ?”

“The fortune teller.”

“I thought the fortune teller was a man—the Hin-
du!”

“She is his daughter, I think.”

“T didn’t know he had a daughter,” said Merry, be-
wildered.

“You wish to see her?”

“I'd like to see the Hindu, yes, and her.”

The girl closed the door.

“First flight up, and turn to the right.”

Merry hastened up the stairs.

He was trying to be prepared for whatever might hap-
pen. If the Hindu wanted to fight him, he would fight;
if, on the other hand, the Hindu was willing to talk,
he would talk. And he would guard against an attack,
open or. insidious. x

“They can’t lock me in that room, as they must have
done Jack, for I broke the holding of the latch. That
ought to rid me of the incense-smoke danger, if that is
what it They trapped Jack in a locked room,
sure.”

was.

The door had ‘been closed. Before it the red light
was burning, and on it was the clairvoyant’s sign.

As he knocked on the door, Merry was thinking of
Inza. She would protest against this, if she knew. Her
love for her husband made her timorous at times.’ She~
would have argued that this was an unnecessary running
into danger.

Yet it was the way to protect her now, he believed. He
could not let Santanel go on in this way, and strike her
down next. He must strike Santanel.

After a moment of silence, the door was opened.

He saw only a black cat on the floor before him,
plainly revealed in the red light of the lamps. The red
smoke had disappeared.

 

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enough to send you to prison,”

Merry hesitated, looking into the room.

“Come in,” a voice invited, which he recognized as San-
tanel’s; and then he discovered that-Santanel had stepped
back, behind the doer.

“Come out. into the open,’ said Merry, -“and I’ll accept
ve come here for a talk swith. you.”

“Come. in.”

“And be struck down by. you’as I pass the door? Come
out into the open.”

The Hindu appeared, smiling, deferential, clothed in
a robe of scarlet. Bowing, he rubbed his-hands over each
other, like Pickens: character, “washing his hands with
invisible soap.”

“It is the Mr. Merriwell,” he ot as if. recognizing
Frank now for the first time. “Pray come in, and the
chair take over there. I have myself but. arrived.”

Merry moved toward the chair, cautious, yet feeling
sure that the door could not. be locked behind him. The
Hindu closed the door and followed. . Frank watched
him out of the corners of his eyes.

“Tye just a few words to say to you,” said Merry,
stopping behind the chair, instead of sitting down in it.
“The first of those few words is that I am amazed and
have heen baffled by the fact that the dead has come to
life. For, though you profess to be a Hindu, I know
that you are Santanel.”

The red-robed figure chuckled quietly, and moyed on

‘past, finally seating himself..

“Very true,” he said.

“You don’t deny it?” Merry was amazed.

“Why should I deny it—to you?”

“T was. sure you were drowned in New Haven!”

“Oh, I was drowned in New Haven, but—I have come
to life again.”

“Pass up that nonsense,” said Merry.

“You do not believe in reincarnation? But, look! ‘That
Wag many years ago. Those years dropped out of my
life; they made -no- impression. When I came back I
was no older; those years had not counted... Am I older
—am I more wrinkled?”

“Devils like you seem never to grow older,”
irritated.

said Merry,

Seized by a great rage, he wanted to strike the man
to the floor; suddenly he. was seeing red. He controlled
the feeling with an effort. If he let anger inflame and
weaken him, he would fall a victim to this man him-

self.

“Another of the few words I came to say is this,” he
went on, his voice low and quivering: “The old fiendish
spirit which animated you is as much alive as ever, what-
ever else has happened. It is now inducing you to strike
at me through my friends, You got into Greg Carker’s
room, Or some one in your pay did, and. poisoned his
drinking water. In the office of the Pilot you invited a
handshake, and cut Joe Gamp’s finger with a poisoned
finger nail. My friend Jack Diamond came into this room
this evening, and you trapped him in here, and tried to
asphyxiate him with a poisonous gas of some kind. Y
broke your door and took him out just in time. You
will deny, of course, that you did any of these things.”

The Hindu seemed to shake with silent laughter. .

“Oh, no,” he said smoothly. “Why should I deny any
of them?”

“Because a confession that you did them would be
Merry flared.

 

NEW TIP. TOP: WEEKLY. 15

 

“Possibly—possibly, if I were fool enough to make that
confession -in a-couft,-or.'to the public; yet not when
I merely make it to you, here. If outside .of this .room
you should say I had confessed it, I should deny it.
What then?”

“You have been trying to stampede. me——

“Right again, my dear Mt. Metriwell.”

“Out of a sheer desire to. torture me and. my - friends.”

“Oh, no—no, you are wrong—very: wrong. I.would not
so trouble myself just to make you unhappy.”

“Then, why?” Merry demanded. “And remember, I
shall

“Threats here are but so much wind wasted, so save
your threats. You ask why? It is of-a very easy ex-
planation, I have been showing you what:I can:do, and
how I can. do it, and a hundred other things I can. do,
which, if you should proclaim them from the housetops
of this town, no one would believe. a word of all you
said. But I want you to know that I can do them; that
I can kill you and your very dear wife .

With difficulty Merry kept from pitching: at ie, and
his fingers writhed to catch the pretended Hindu by the
throat and choke the black life out of him.

“Go on,” he said, his fingers burying themselves -in the
red velvet of the chair top. “If you dare to so much
as lay the weight of a feather on my wife, Ill kill: you,
if I hang for it the next minute.”

”?

 

 

“Softly, softly; I have-no desire to kill anybody. The
friends you named I eould have killed, had I desired
so to do. You.will admit that I was able to strike them,
and that you could not prevent it; and had I sought. it, I
could in all three cases have struck Hard enough ‘to kill.
The poison in the water pitcher could. have been tnade
stronger, and the poison I slipped under my finger “nail
could also have been made stronger. As for the smdke—
it could have been so arranged ‘that it would have slain
your friend here in’ a minute. And nothing could have
been done to me. You ~hurriéd in each ‘case for a doc-
tor; and you think the doctor saved them. T teélf you, no!
And in each case he could have been fooled—in fact, has
been fooled, for it has come to me that he thinks there
was a little ptomaine poisoning, From eating the most
excellent beefsteaks served at the Antlers, I presume.”

He “washed his hands” again, and, leaning back in his
chair, laughed horribly, yet almost silently.

Merry had the feeling that ‘he was letting this clever
fiend outwit him, even here and now, and again that
almost uncontrollable desire to throttle the monster swept
over him.

“But I am not giving you my reasons for the many
little attentions I have been paying your friends,” the
man in red went on. “It is this: I do not desire re-
venge. But I do desire money. You see the devices
I must resort to in this town to get even a little money.
You have, so I am assured, immense wealth. Ten thou-
sand dollars cannot be much to you. Your Merriwell
Company, as I learn, is making much money. Giye me
ten thousand dollars i

“You devil—I refuse!”

“Very well. You have not learned your lesson yet, I
see. The fear of Santanel has not been driven into you
deep enough. I shall now proceed to drive it in.”

“Do you want me to kill you?”

“Ha, ha! You dare not. It would be a pleasant sight
for your wife to see-you swinging at the end of a repe?

 

  
    

16

That would be what would happen if you killed me. But
you will not kill me. I have not the slightest fear of
it. You are not a murderer, in the fir&t place——”

“But you are! You are—~”

“My. friend, the cat that treads softly catches the most
mice. You are not scaring me. But now I shall proceed
to scare you. I have struck at your three friends, know-
ing that, though you love them, you do not love them
as you love your wife. Now I shall strike at your wife!
If an arrangement is not made by you to-morrow for
the safe payment to me of the money I demand, |
shall——”

Merriwell’s. twitching fingers slid round the chair.
The next instant he had the threatening villain by the
throat and was dragging him to the door.

“You'll go with me to the police station, you scoun-
drel,” he was saying, “if I have to drag you all the
way there. But I’ve got a cab outside, and into it you
will go. Tl have you locked up, and I'll prosecute you
to the finish, if it takes every cent I have in the world.”

Merry pulled the door open,
robed: man.

Then the huge black cat launched itself at his throat
with a howl. To defend himself from this unexpected ‘at-
tack, he dropped the Hindu with a thud to the floor,
and staggered back through the doorway, into the cor-
ridor.

As he shook the cat off, the door closed with a re-
sounding bang, and a bolt shot. Merry hurled. himself
at the door, with the cat trying again to claw him.

The doer which he was sure could not be secured
had been strengthened since: his previous: assault on it,
and it withstood him. ;

He was trying to calm himself-as he hurried down the
stairs.

He could not find the girl in the lower hall, even when
he rang the doorbell violently.

Since the door of ‘the room had resisted him, and the
girl could not be found, he hurried into the street and
ran to the waiting cab.

“Take me to the nearest. telephone,” he commanded, as
he leaped in.

The nearest pay station was half a dozen streets away,
yet was reached quickly. .

Merry there called up the police station, and in a
féw minutes had the satisfaction of knowing that. off-
cers were being hurried to’ meet him.

Impatiently he awaited their arrival. When they came,
he preferred his charges against the Hindu, whom he
called Santanel; then was told that he would have to
swear out a warrant for the Hindu’s arrest.

This took time. Before a warrant could be issued, and
Metry and the officers sent to serye it could get back to
the house where he had met Santanel, the better part of
an hour had passed.

The girl was at the door, as before, and admitted them,
staring, when: she beheld the policemen,

“Upstairs,”
where the room is.
he has cut out.”

A rap at the door of the clairyoyant’s room. brought

said Merry, leading the way; “I. know
The only thing .| fear now is that

the red-robed beauty who had. been seen by Jack
Diamond. ;
“Santanel, the Hindu?” she said, when they | stated

their errand and demanded admission. “He isn’t here,

NEW. TIP TOP WEEKLY.

still dragging the red--

and hasn’t been here this evening.

I don’t know where

 

he is.”

“You are i

a am his daughter, but I haven’t ‘seen him this - even-
ing.” ae

The officers pushed on into the room, displayed their
and announced that they had comé to arrest

warrant,
him .at the instigation of Frank Merriwell.

“How dreadful!” said the girl. “What has my father
done to bring this about?”

“IT charge that he tried to poison Greg Carger and Joe
Gamp, and that in this rou he tried to suffocate Jack”
Diamond this very evening,” Merry announced.

“Poof!” she said scornfully; “if your jother charges
have no more basis than that about your friend Diamond,
they’re not worthy of notice.
see Mr. Diamond. Mr. Diamond came here to get his
fortune told. You can learn that much by inquiring of
the girl who attends on the door. I told his fortune.
Right here, as you see, is a lamp in which I burn im
cense. I always light it as a patron is leaving me. TI
find that it impresses people,
too much oil in the lamp, and it blazed up. I ran to
get away from the incense, which, in large quantities;
is rather overpowering; and, as it happened, your, friend, -

in trying to get out by the door, found the door eels
I was réturning to
Merriwell; as I now knows

or failed to be able to turn the knob.
help him, when some one—Mr.
—smashed the door open and got him out: Yet, really,
the smoke would not have hurt him. . That is, it ¢eould
hurt him no more than any ordinary. smoke would. Of
course, ordinary smoke will cause asphyxiation.”

Her flashing eyes turned on Merriwell) . .- |

“IT think you are troubled Just a little bit by an’ exesss.
of imagination, my dear sir,” she declared; “that is what
is troubling you. My father has been guilty of none ¥

the things you charge against him. Poof!”

CHAPTER IX,

THE BLOW FALLS.

Frank Merriwell did not linger in the rooms. of, the

fortune teller. Santanel was not there, nor in the house.
And a great and sudden fear had come on him that, éven

at that’ moment, Santanel was striking at Inza;

Dismissing the officers, who, as he could see, regarded —

him very much in the light in which he was apparently
regarded by’ the sneering and defiant. beauty,
posted “back to the hotel in the cab he had kept waiting.

He encountered Greg Carker in the lobby, . somewhat
to his surprise.
seemed himself once more.

“Gamp is on his pegs again,” Carker reported; “he’ll
be all right by to-morrow. Either that doctor is a won-
der, or the poisoning we got wasn’t as bad as we thought.
How about Diamond ?”

“Still at the doctor’s office, but getting. on fine. I
came back to see Inza. I’ve'had a séance with /San-

tanel and his daughter, and Santanel made ‘threats that.

You’ve seen Inza recently?” s

She was in that

alarmed me.
“Oh, fifteen or twenty minutes ago,
big upper hall.

is Santanel ?”

In fact, my father did not

As it happened, there was

Merry’.

Carker was pale, though otherwise he

I think she had been to see Gamp, and
was going to her room, Are you sure yet that the fellow

he

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in the hall.
Merry’s face was as white as a sheet.

' Santanel has seized her.

But Merry had moved on hurriedly, and was entering

_ the elevator.

In the upper hall he paused long enough to look in at
Gamp’s door. Gamp was sitting by his table, reading.
He started up. ;

“Hello, Mum-Mum-Mum-——”

“Glad to see you out of bed,” Merry flung at him,
and passed on.

Entering the rooms occupied by himself and Inza, he
glanced round.

“Inza!’’ he called.

With a growing chill of fear, he hastened through the
rooms. She was not there. He was about to hurry out,
when he observed a half sheet of paper pinned to a
pillow.

Snatching it away, he read:

“First blow!”

Tt was a scrawl like that of a schoolboy.

Merry was stunned. Santanel had been there—in these
rooms—and Inza was gone! For a moment he stood, reel-
ing, then crumpled the paper in his hand and flung out

eat the door.

Greg Carker had followed him in the elevator, and was
Under the bright lights Carker saw that

*She is gone!” Merry told him huskily.

“She’s in the hotel, somewhere, of course,” said Carker.

“No. Santanel has been here!”

Carker was incredulous, until Merry
serawl and showed it to him.

While Merry was running to the elevator, Carker
rushed into Gamp’s room with the astounding news. It
brought Gamp up, standing. :

“Gug-gug-gug-goshfry! Dud-don’t sus-sus-seem pos-
sible,’ Gamp stuttered. “Why, it dud-don’t seem it’s bub-
been mum-more’n five minutes ago sense I was tut-talkin’
to her right here. -You ain’t mistaken abub-baout this?”

“T think there can be no mistake,” said Carker, “‘Merry’s
gone down to the office, and will announce it théré, and
telephone to the police. You're able for duty? Then,
we'll turn this hotel upside down. She isn’t in it, of
course, but we'll go through it.” .

“Bub-better telephone that dud-doctor’s office, and if
Dud-Diamond can w-walk, he'll git here; if. he can’t
walk, he’ll ruh-ride. There’s the telephone right there.
I sus-sus-stutter so much that I’m always shut off before
I cuc-can git sus-started to speakin’ into the thing. Where
I was last summer they th-threatened to take the phone
aout if I dud-didn’t stop usin’ it. Ahaw, haw!”

Gamp felt more like crying than laughing, and his
laugh was but a sorry attempt to cover up his real feel-
ings. Then he blew his nose hard, and, in dabbing at
it with his handkerchief, managed to dab away the
moisture gathering in his honest eyes.

Greg Carker was not noticing him, however. He had
the telephone reteiver down, and was giving central the
doctor’s number.

“How is Diamond?” Gamp heard him inquire.

It was like music to Carker, when Diamond’s voice

unfolded. the

came over the line.

“So you can talk—and walk? That’s good; hurray!
Get’this, Jack: Inza has disappeared, and Merry is sure
Merry has séen him. Santanel

demanded money; and threatened to strike at Inza if he
What’s that?”

didn’t get it.

 

 

NEW <PLP TOP: WEREKEY:, 17

He turned with a blank face to Gamp.

“Gamp, the fool is coming right here! He shouted,
and dropped his receiver. Why, he can’t be able to walk,
even !”

“Mebby he cuc-can ruh-ruh-ride,” said Gamp.
he’d cuc-come.”

The short time that elapsed before Jack Diamond was in
the hotel suggested that he must have ridden in a fly-
ing machine. Why the taxi he took was not held up
for a violation of the speed laws can only be accounted
for by supposing it went too fast, or ran over all the off-
cers that got in its way.

Diamond leaped out of the taxi when it drew up to the
street entrance, and came running into the hotel as if
there had never been a thing the matter with him. Yet
in the lobby he reeled, and had to put his hand against
the wall to keep from falling to the floor, as he met Gamp
there. His face was the color of tallow.

“Tell me about it,’ he gasped.

Gamp seemed on the point of breaking down and blub-
bering like a schoolboy. ;

“T cuc-cuc-cuc-can’t,” said Camp; “it’s tut-too awful;
and I dud-don’t know a thing. She is gone; th-that’s all
I know.”

Jack discovered, though, that the hotel was in a stir.
Having made sure that Inza had disappeared, and being
equally as sure that Santanel had spirited her out of the
hotel, Merry had laid the matter before the hotel manage-
ment, and without mincing matters.

So the hotel telephones were buzzing, and so many
people were being notified that it seemed that in a few
minutes the whole city must know all about it.

Merry was. “taking the bull by the horns.” It was not
a time for secrecy. He was trying to make sure that
Santanel, known to the people as the Hindu, could not
get out of the city.

Yet even while Merry was doing all this, he could not
get away from the feeling that Santanel might be too
clever for him, for he had, through bitter, experience,
learned that the resources of the rascal were simply
amazing. However things turned out, too, Santanel seemed
nearly always able to make it appear that he was a much-
wronged and guiltless person. Judging by the past, he
might even now accomplish his ends, and .so completely
turn the tables that in a few hours the whole city of
Colorado Springs would be laughing at what they would
consider Merry’s. foolish fright.

But that did not stay Merriwell’s hand now.

Jack Diamond staggered into Merry’s rooms, like a
walking ghost. Yet there was a fine fire of determina-
tion in his dark eyes. Merry was busy at the tele-
phone.

“You ought to be in bed, Jack,” he commented.

At the moment Merry looked as if he ought to be in
bed himself. His face was pale and drawn with anxiety.

“Don’t you think you ought to go to bed, Jack? Go
into your room, and go to bed!”

“Don’t you need me?” said Diamond, fixing Merry with.
his. burning eyes.

“Of course I need you, but that doesn’t make you
fit for the work. I know how you feel; Jack, and I
appreciate it; yet I really think you ought to be in bed.
An hour ago you seemed at ‘death’s door.”

“Well, I’m all right now,” said Diamond; “just. mark
out some line of action for me, and I'l put it through.

“T knew

   
18 NEW TIP TOP. WEEKLY,

Carker is downstairs, talking in the phone with the police
station; but there never was a policemarn born who had

' sense enough to go up against Santanel. And the fools
don’t want to believe Carker, anyway. They think Inza
is in the hotel here, calling on some lady acquaintance,
or has stepped out somewhere. They wanted to know if
Carker was sure that wasn’t so. Faugh!» Those bandy-
coots make me sick. But what’s the best course? Lay out
some work for me.”

-Merry’s telephone bell rang before he could answer.

He turned and lifted the receiver to his ear.

“Yes? What is it? Whois this?”

Jack Diamond, who had dropped into a chair, and was
looking at him, saw the fingers of his right hand tighten
in a spasmodic clutch on the wood incasing the phone,
and a twitch of pain flick over his face.

“Tt is you! Santanel!” Merry’s voice rose ‘and
quivered. “Where are you? Oh—you don’t have to say!
All right, [ll find-out in a minute. . That’s all
right; you harm her and I'll feed you to the wolves!
What's that? ... .”

Diamond’s emotions hurled him out of his chair, and
he came toward the phone with the catlike ferocity of a
man who expected to be able to reach through the wall
there and get at his enemy. But his only thought was
to hear what Santanel was saying, which, with care, he
might do by silent listening close by the receiver.

These words, that came clearly enough to Merriwell,
came to Diamond as:a faint metallic squeaking, yet dis-
tinguishable;

“You may think this is “bluff, but the cards I’ve al-
ready laid on the table ought to show you that I-can win
the game. I’ve nothing against you—now, but I’m going
to have that money. You'll pay it, if you ever hope to
see your wife again. She hasn’t seen me, and doesn’t
even know that I’ve got her. She'll know enough, though,
in good time, if you’re obstinate. All I want is your
word,”

Diamond saw that Merry was hesitating.

“Defy thim!” he said.

Merry’s face twitched again. What was ten thousand
dollars compared with the safety, the life, of Inza?
Nothing at all.

“Tt isn’t the money,” said Diamond, reading him like a
book; “but what would Inza want you to do? She’d
scorn you if you yielded weakly to a demand like that.”

Merry knew Diamond was wrong, for Inza would
never scorn him, no matter what he did. But, on the
‘other hand, he knew that Inza would not wish him to
submit tamely.

“If you harm her,” he bellowed, “I'll kill you! You
say that in this money matter you are willing to accept
my pledged word; that you know I’ll do whatever I. say—
will give you the money and make no trouble about it,
if I so promise. All right, I do try always to keep my
word. And now remember—I’ll keep this one: Harm
Inza, and I'll kill you, and go cheerfully to the “chair”
for it, I pledge you my word,”

Diamond’s tallowlike face had changed color again—
it had flushed to a deep, dull red; his dark eyes seemed
on fire,

“That’s the stuff!” he yelled. “If you should fail—
if he should get you, there are others to take it up. We'll
make a vendetta*of this, if it falls that way. But—it

. . .

”

 

won't; he'll wilt. Every man of the Santanel breed is a
coward when it, comes. down to a final analysis.”

Santanel apparently caught. this.

“His scornful laugh sounded—a metallic buzz in the
receiver. 4

“T see I must strike again,” he said. “I shall double
my money demand if [am delayed in this, and. in the
end you'll pay whatever: I ask, You'll hear from. me again
in half an hour or so,’

Merry demanded of central where the call had come
from, and learned, what. he had suspected, that it was
a public pay station—the pay. station at the railroad
station.

“That doesn’t help. us much,” he said to Diamond; “he
could slip into one of the telephone booths and out again
without attracting attention ; there’s usually a crowd in the
waiting rooms. And if he took the precaution to dis-
guise himself, as I suspect he did

 

Carker and Gamp came jin, interrupting, to report that

it was known positively now that Inza was not in the
hotel.

“We've already had the proof here—so far as Santanel’s *

word can prove anything.”

“I’m going to the railroad station,” said Diamond;
take the taxi, which is waiting at the entrance.
to be moving.
what do you say to my visiting that fortune teller
again?” .

“Visit the station—if you must take a hand... I'll visit
the fortune teller, if. it seems. advisable... Carker, I want
you and Gamp to watch round the hotel here, and in it.”

“He'll not. cuc-cuc-come here naow.”

“Likely not. Watch for the cowboy.
sion between them, we know.

“Dt

There's collia:
They may try to meet,

Perhaps he is the very fellow who left that note on the

pillow, and seized Inza. We've never yet been able to
see Santanel in or near this place.”

Diamond had not waited to hear all’ of this. To his
mind, time was infinitely precious. They heard the taxi
moving out and away. OA nae

Having turned over various plans, Merry decided to risk
another visit to the house where he had seen Santanel
and his daughter,

Before setting out, he instructed Carker to give at-
tention now and then to the telephone, as Santanel might
call him up again.

“First flight up, tutn to your right,”
mitting him as before.

said the girl, ad-

It had become a. familiar formula, yet each time it.

had introduced him to something new and strange. Merry
wondered what it would be this time, as he climbed the
stairs, then turned toward the red light. Had Santanel
returned to this house?

Santanel’s daughter came to’ the door.

“Is your father in?”

Merry knew the answer would be “no,” before he asked
the question; though he was not sure that it would be a
truthful answer.

Having entered, at her hrgttation, Merry came at once
to the point.
and informed her that he had heard directly from San-
tanel, by telephone from the railroad station.

The girl laughed in his face.

“You think you are smart,. Mr. Merriwell.

ought to see that you are beaten—were beaten in the © |

I’ve got —
Perhaps I'll catch onto something; or,

He announced the disappearance of Inza,

Yet: you. |

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NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

beginning. A voice came over the phone, and you say
it was my father’s; you say there was an admission of
identity, a demand for money, and threats. As I said
before—poof !”

/You do not believe me?”

**“T know that it is true; that you heard it, and\it held
a meaning that you should regard. But you don’t know
where he is; you haven’t laid your hands on him, and
you never will. You have a scrap of paper that was
pinned to a pillow; a schoolboy. scrawl, you say. Poof,
agains. Can you prove against my father anything by
that? He can make it appear that all the things you have
heard and seen are, or were, the mere foolish pranks of
foolish fellows; that he had nothing to do with him; or
that you lied.”

“T might be able to trust Santanel,” he said, looking
into the face of the bewildering witch before him, “if I
*did not know him so well. His blows against me, and
against my father, have always been guided by revenge.
Even now, if | should pay him that ten thousand dollars,

’ his revenge would not be satisfied, and he would strike me

He

again. I am astonished that he asked for money.
has changed.”

Her odd laughter rose again.

“You have been fooled. Oh, don’t glance at the door!
You heard no one there, and you will not be trapped
here. That would defeat our purpose. No one can get
close enough to this room we’re in to hear us. We took
precautions. These rooms round us are hired by my
father, and no one is in them, or can get into them.

“But that isn’t what I meant to say. You think Santanel
has changed. That is because he is not Santanel.”

“Not Santanel ?”

“Not the Santanel you knew; he was drowned at
New Haven. This is a Santanel,; and he is my father. He
is a brother of the Santanel you knew. He has no bitter
enmity against you. All he wants is the money. What
he has done has been merely to drive home to you the
knowledge that you are powerless before him. He will not
kill your wife. But you will never see her again until
you have promised to pay that money and pay in a way he
will point out, that shall guarantee him safety. You may
as well learn that first as last, Mr. Merriwell.”

_ “Not Santanel!”

“Not the Santanel you had in mind. But he is as
shrewd and capable as his brother, fully so. He is even
a better juggler and necromancer. In ‘this matter he is
sure to defeat you. And he will demand a larger and
ever larger sum, which you will have to pay in the end,
if you do not yield quickly.”

The telephone in the room rang.

The girl sprang to it.

“For you, Mr. Merriwell,” she said, turning round.

“Here I am, Santanel,” Merry heard, when he: put the
receiver to his ear; “I am now in your rooms at the hotel.
Diamond has gone to the railroad station, Gamp and
Carker are in the lobby below. They will be up here in a
minute, but before they appear I shall be gone.”

It was like a bewildering blow. Merry was puzzled
to account for Santanel’s knowledge of where he was,
until he saw it was as easy for the shrewd rascal to
know that as to know where Diamond had gone. San-
tanel had got into the hotel, and had heard Carker and
Gamp talking.

“At midnight,” Santanel was saying, “I shall raise my

19

demand to twelve thousand dollars. Good-by, Merriwell.
Communicate with my daughter before then, unless you
want to say twelve thousand.”

Merry turned toward the door,

“Oh, you’re going back to the hotel!” said the girl.

Then Merry heard her talking, and was sure she was
communicating that to Santanel.

Meanwhile where was Inza?

CHAPTER X.
MERRY’S VICTORY.
“T stood on the bridge at Denver—
*Twas the bridge of a half back’s nose!
And the ball rose over the gridiron,
From the tips of our tackle’s toes.
How often—oh, how often—
I saw the pigskin fly !—
While we scrambled our foes to custard,
And ate ’em up like pie.” '
Airily light and reckless, the song drifted from the lips
of the cowboy as he swung along the street.
He was in a part of the town near the boarding and

_ lodging house occupied by the Hindu and his daughter ;

occupied by them, because they had hired practically the
whole of it, in their crafty preparations for holding
up and robbing Frank Merriwell by the use of fear-
provoking threats and acts.

The cowboy stopped in the semidarkness at the mouth
of an alley, and leaned against the wall there, still sing-
ing, or, rather, humming the words of the song, for his
voice had dropped to subdued tones.

A man came stealthily out of a door in a wall of this
alley. A man dark of face and crafty in bearing. He
was Santanel, or the Hindu, and he advanced on the
cowboy in a manner which showed acquaintanceship.

“Ah,” he said, when he had sidled up, “you have ven-
tured to come with news? I see I shall have to strike
Merry himself. He is stubborn.”

“He says he will never surrender,” the cowboy whis-
pered hoarsely. “Cut your demand down to five thou-
sand, and maybe he’ll pay that. I’ll pin another note on
that pillow, saying so, if you’re willin’, What say?”

“Ten thousand, or nothing. If he defies me I’ll crush
him. Since my daughter rather foolishly let him know
that I am not the Santanel he so feared, he has grown
more defiant. But I'll show him that I am quite as
dangerous. I'll crush him, if he defies me now.”

“He seems to be defying you,” said the cowboy, in a
changed voice.

Santanel started back, in sudden fright.

But he was not quick enough. The pretended cow-
boy clutched him by the throat with fingers that were
like iron, and, having borne him back, helpless and con-
fused, caught him up with seemingly enormous. strength
and deliberately walked back to the gate with him, which
had been left ajar.

Entering the yard behind the gate, and closing the gate,
the cowboy bore the struggling man across the lot, and
stopped with him in a dark entrance.

“T didn’t know until recently that you had hired this
place, too,” came in the voice of Frank Merriwell. “Now
I'll take your keys, and we'll go into this room.”

Still holding Santanel by the throat, Frank Merri-

well searched the fellow’s pockets and brought up the

 
20 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

key. Then he unlocked the door, and pulled Santanel into
the room.

He had discovered that Santanel’s only weapon was a
small revolver, and he secured it. Snapping on the lights,
he flung the almost unconscious form into a chair. Then
he locked the door and drew the blinds close, and turned
on a single light.

When Santanel tried to sit up in the chair, his mind
in a haze, his throat constricted, his breath a wheezing
gasp, he was looking into the muzzle of his own revolver,
and staring in a wild sort of daze at the cowboy who held
it. He could hardly believe that the cowboy was Frank
Merriwell. For he had recognized, as he thought, the
cowboy’s very voice and intonations. And that foolish
song, as he thought it—the cowboy had been humming
and droning it all day.

But, yes—it was Frank Merriwell. Merriwell, in the
cowboy’s clothing.

“Now, we'll talk,” said Merry, “I’ve put down the
final cards, and I take the game. Where is my wife?”

“Wh-wh——”

“Where is my wife?”

Santanel cringed.

“She is safe. On my honor, she is safe. She has not
been harmed.”

“T hope you can prove it. Now prove it. Lead me
to her. I’m through fooling with you.”

Santanel knew he had been overmatched, and it cowed
him.

“Yes-—yes,” he said, his voice shaking and whining;
“don’t shoot me, Merriwell. [ll show you where she is,
She—she has not been harmed.”

“T’ve ordered you to show me where she is. Lead on
now. But, mind you, if you try any tricks I shall not
be responsible for the consequences.”

The peculiar ring in Merry’s voice showed that he
meant it.

Santanel rose and shuffled across the room, He was not
in the red robes he had posed in as Hindu and fortune
teller, but in ordinary brown clothing. Reaching the door
he stooped abruptly.

“I forgot,” he whined; “you have my keys,”

“TH do the unlocking, then, I don’t trust you.”

Even as he fitted a key and unlocked the door, his
hand was ready to seize Santanel if he made a move-
ment not desired.

The door admitted them into a musty hall that had
all the appearance of an underground corridor.

At its end was another door, and that let them into a
room. Santanel said that Inza was held a prisoner in
this room, and Merry forced him to lead, when the door
swung open. ;

Inza, hearing ‘Merry’s voice, flew to his side; and in so
doing gave Santanel a chance to duck back into the musty
passage. Inza’s arms went round Merry’s neck, and she
was almost screaming.

“You are safe and unharmed?” he said. “Thank God!
Just a minute, sweetheart. That villain is escaping.”

The villain had already escaped. The doors were

open, as well as the gate, leading into the alley. There
had been other keys somewhere, apparently. Santanel was
out and away. ;
Fearing the treacherous scoundrel might return by some
unknown route, and even yet strike another blow, Merry

did not seek to follow him, though he wanted to, and he
returned at once to Inza, finding her in the dark corridor.

“It is you—you, Frank!” she said, as if she could not
believe it.”

“You'll think I’m some one else, when I turn on this
light, which Santanel turned out as he passed through.”

He drew her into the room where first he had held
Santanel, and turned the light on, revealing himself in
the garments of the cowboy.

“T don’t care what you are, or what you're wearing!”

She put her arms round his neck. “Oh, Frank, I’ve had:

a horrible time.”

“Santanel harmed you—insulted you?”

“No, but he frightened me nearly to death. I didn’t
know he was within a mile of me, when he came up
behind me and put his hand over my mouth; right in
our rooms, too. And threatened me with death if I
spoke. I was so frightened that I fainted. Then I was
here. I don’t know how I got here. But he came in, and
he made me see that I couldn’t get away and couldn’t
make myself heard. The room is an old wine vault, en-

tirely shut away from the street, and there is no light in
it. I thought I should die. I almost fainted again, when

I knew I was here, and heard him threatening you,”

Minutes passed before she became quiet enough to
talk without an approach to hysteria,

“We must get out of here,” he urged.

“Yes, in a minute; I feel dizzy—I can hardly move.
Just in a minute. How did you discover where I was?
And that cowboy clothing?” 5

“Tll tell it, in a hurry, then we must go. We can
get a cab somewhere. ' Of course, I didn’t come here in
one, for I came disguised as the cowboy, in his clothes.
It was funny about that——”

“Nothing can ever seem funny again,”

“Oh, yes, as soon as your nerves are let down.”

“Oh, Frank, what if he had killed you?”

“He had no intention of killing either of us, for he
was after money, And he is not Santanel, not the San-
tanel, but his brother. His daughter told me that. While
I was interviewing her again, she said that. Diamond had
gone to the railroad station, and Gamp and Carker were
at the hotel.

“Carker encountered the cowboy sneaking out of our
room. He did not know that Carker, or any one, was
there, and when Carker collared him he said he was
merely looking in, to inquire of me if I had heard any-
thing about you. Of course, everybody at the hotel had
heard all about your disappearance.

“T happened to return right then, and was in the hall.
I had no positive proof against the cowboy. Yet I de-
cided to take a chance. So we forced him to go back
into the rooms, and then we sat down for a talk with
him. In the end, the only thing we could get him to
admit was that he had a “slight acquaintance with the
Hindu, as he called him; he had met the Hindu in
Pueblo, he said, and formed a sort of business partnership
with him there.

“But his slight admissions gave us the information that
Santanel had hired another building, or rooms in an-
other one—this building.

“So I decided to saunter over here, in the cowboy’s
clothing, and see what would happen: I knew that if the
cowboy was really in with Santanel in this thing, and I

 

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could, as the cowboy, meet him, I’d find a chance to do
something.
“It came out that way, and proved that the cowboy lied

as to the extent of his acquaintance with Santanel, for
Santamel came up to me out by the mouth of the alley,
believing me to be the cowboy, and said things which

; - proved they were in this villainous and treacherous deal
¥

29

 

 

- together.
a Then I took, the coward, Santanel, in hand; and—
~ well, this is the rest of it.”

* * * * * * * *

“Gug-gug-gug-goshfry,” Joe Gamp stuttered, when they
got back to the hotel, “dud-didn’t we ruh-rout him gug-
great? Rah, rah, Merriwell!

“Here’s a health to gug-good old Yale—

Drink ’er daown!”

THE END,

“Frank Merriwell’s Conquest; or, Winning an Enemy,”
is the title of the story that you will find in the next
issue of this weekly, No. 120, out November 14th. Carker,
Diamond, and Gamp play important parts in this story,

too, and the adventures of Merry and his chums will hold

the mind of the most casual reader in an absorbing grasp.

 

_ The Garden of Aventure.
By BARRY WOLCOTT.

(This interesting story was commenced in No. 117 of the NEw Tip
TOP WEEKLY. Back numbers can be obtained from your news
dealer or the publishers.)

CHAPTER X.
FROM THE BELFRY.

“Come!” cried Denny, as he leaped ashore and started
for the house. “Don’t waste time!”

Jack followed at a run, but hardly had they started
when they saw an elderly man and a young girl coming
from the house to meet them.

Though past the age when most men begin to get
Stout, the man was as erect as a pike and as slender as
a boy, and his handsome, strong face inspired confidence
even as Denny’s had done. The girl was a refined, fem-
inine edition of the man.

Never for an instant was Jack in doubt as to their
identity, nor of the justice of Denny’s description of the
girl. And he noted, with an inward chuckle, that it was
to her, not to her father, that Denny turned.

Their words were not impressive, but the look the
girl gave Denny spoke eloquently.

“So you've come?” "said she, holding out her hand.

“W'u'd I stay away?” he asked in return, his brogue
unconsciously appearing with his earnestness.

That was all that passed between them then. Still
holding her hand, apparently without knowing he did so,
Denny turned to her father, who spoke impatiently.

“What's the matter, Denny?” he asked. “Has it come
at last?”

“I fear it has, sir. I tried to send you. warning, but
the messengers failed, through no fault of their own.

I’ve brought you some men, though, and one who'll be

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

 

 

al

more good to us than any hundred of the others. Come
here, Jack.”
Jack came, and was introduced to Mr. Baynes. Then,

Denny told the story of their meeting
The face of the old

in a few words,
and subsequent voyage up the river.
gentleman brightened as he listened.

“Good!” he cried, as Denny finished. “I remember you
well, Jack. Your father was an old and dear friend
of mine, and | think I[’d have known you anywhere from
your resemblance to him. Have you had any military ex- ’
perience?”

“Only what I got in a private military school, before
I went to college,” Jack admitted regretfully. “But I
know the drill—and you'll find me willing to do my best,
Mr. Baynes.”

“I knew you were going to say something like that,
Jack!” cried the girl, coming forward, both her hands
extended. “I’m Alice, you know. Don’t you remember
me?”

Jack took the hands willingly enough. And, when
he came to look at her face more closely, he did remember
a little girl whom he had once known as Alice Baynes,
a girl with long, fair pigtails and short skirts, But like
most normal boys of his age at that time, he had regarded
her with a more or less contemptuous indifference.

His mind was at work on some polite fiction to dis-
guise this uncomplimentary fact, but Mr. Baynes saved
him the necessity.

“Of course Jack remembers you, my dear,” said he,
rather testily. “But there’s no time to talk over old times
just now. Do you realize all there is to do?”

“T ought to, daddy,” she answered, smiling. “We’ve gone
over it often enough. And now, Jack, you'll see and hear
something that in all the six years that I’ve lived here
never has happened.”

They had been hurrying toward the house while they
were speaking. Now, Mr. Baynes, nodding assent, spoke
to a drowsy half-breed servant. The man looked up,
startled, and went away at a run.

A moment later the deep boom of a bell- was heard.

“Tt’s the alarm bell,” explained Alice. “Listen!”

The great bell kept on, sending its deep-toned voice

across the lands of the great plantation. But strong
though this voice was, it could not reach one-tenth of
the way to the boundaries of La Flor del Rio. Other and

smaller bells answered it, each one ringing from the belfry
of a chapel standing in a subsidiary village of the great
ranch, and others again answered each of those. And
so it went, like an endless chain.

Men working in fields miles distant heard this sum-
mons, listened, and, dropping their hoes, or whatever they
had been using, ran to the village to which they be-
longed, rallying under their local leader, then moving in a
compact body toward the central ranch house near the
river.

“Let’s go up in the belfry and. see them come,”
gested Alice.

Regretfully enough, Denny declined; there was much for
him to attend to, he said. But Jack consented eagerly,
and Mr. Baynes, after hesitating a moment, made no
objection.

From the top of the low belfry, where the great bell,
its rope pulled by eight strong men, still was booming
out its summons, one could see for many miles over. that
level country.

sug-

   
 

 

22 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

Far away, little, dark blotches, which, seen through
strong glasses, proved to be bodies of men, moved slowly
along roads between the reaped cane fields, to unite into
larger bodies as they met, and these into bodies larger
still.

“They’re all organized,” said Mr. Baynes, after they
had stood for a little in silence. “It will take a long
time, though, for them all to get here; some have to come
from such a distance. But they'll be here, if they have
to fight their way through.”

“This is bully!” said Jack, irrelevantly perhaps, but with
deep sincerity.

Mr. Baynes looked at his eager face and glistening
eyes, and smiled, as did Alice. It was the former who
answered.

“I’m glad you feel that way, my boy,” said he.
one of our most valuable assets here, as you heard Denny
say. Do you know why?”

“T can’t imagine,” replied Jack,

“Because you're the owner. These Indians, negroes,
and half-breeds who live on the place have strong notions
of something like a feudal loyalty to their chief. And
I want them to think that he has come down here, willing
to fight for them and lead them. I want you to tell them
so.”

“T could do that truthfully, if I could speak any
tongue that they understood; do it with all my heart,”
said Jack.

“I believe that, And I want you to remember that
you'd be fighting for your own dependents; for the most
part people born ‘and bred*on the soil, who know no
other home or means of livelihood. And that if we win
—when we win, rather—we’ll have broken the enemy’s
back, as it were. He has concentrated all his forces on
us here, in the hope of catching us unprepared and doing
as much for us. Do you understand ?”

“T understand,” Jack replied, speaking far more gravely
than he had before.

And he did understand that there was more in the
coming conflict than the mere love of excitement. There
was a principle involved. For the first time, perhaps, in
his carefree life he now felt burdened with respon-
sibility.

In silence they descended from the belfry, for there
was much to do; Jack had been taken there merely by
way of an object lesson.

ie “You’re

Even Alice had her part: that of preparing a place for
the possible wounded, and seeing that nurses and medical
supplies were ready. Denny was superintending the issue
of rifles. ;

“Where on earth did they all come from? Whose are
they?” asked Jack, in surprise.

“The roifles?” answered Denny, now in high good
humor. “Yours, me lad, ivery wan. Seven thousand, an’
men enough an’ to spare to put behind thim.”

“And what magnificent men they are!” Jack exclaimed.

They certainly were. Those long-armed farm laborers,

every one bred from childhood to the use of the machete,

would give a fearfully grim account of themselves if
it should come to a charge.

All the rest of that afternoon and far into the night,
men came pouring in, to arrange themselves with all the
ease of those working on a well-ordered plan.

Then there was a council, and the plan of defense was
carefully laid out, after much discussion, and'each leader

sent to place his force.
could attack until after two or three days.

was even in the field from reaching El Flor del Rio.

CHAPTER XI.
A LUCKY ALLIGATOR.

It was morning before the council rose. Jack oro
went to bed, with the sun shining through the shades of
his room. When Denny awakened him, it was dusk. ©

“Sure, the sivin sleepers—or siventy av thim—haven’t o
“It'S aes
wonder ye wudden’t get up now, and ate something, an = ©

got annything on you, Jack, me boy,” said he.

ask the news.”

“Is there any news? What is it?” inquired Jack eagerly,

as he rolled out of bed.
“There’s none so much.
on us even as soon as we thought. He’s stopped to
harry the country back av the river, accordin’ to late ad-
We've sent some men in that direction to argue
How long will it take you to get into thim

vices.
with him.
clothes ?”

“Not long, if there’s supper as soon as I’m dressed.
Is there anything special to do afterward?”

“Not in the way of preparation; all that’s been attended
to. But we'll go out and get an alligator or two afterward,
if you'd like to.”

“How? Shoot them?”

“No, in a new way.”

Jack had heard the ways enumerated by Denny, but
he could recall just then mone which they had not tried.
It was not until after they had eaten, and he saw Denny
overhauling some tackle, that he remembered.

This tackle consisted largely of shark hooks; huge: fish-
hooks, each one attached by a snell of steel chain to a
line of fairly heavy rope.

Buckling on light machetes as well as their pistols,
they started, Alice accompanying them, Even she had a
serviceable revolver in a belt around her slender waist,
and the men with them, ten of them, all had rifles as
well as the instruments more directly pertaining to the
work in hand. ,

On reaching a tree-shaded spot by the river, they halted.
The men, laying down their rifles, got their tackle ready,

“Good heavens, what a vile smell!” exclaimed Jack,
as one of the men opened a basket. “What is it ?”* 4

“Mate fer our fri’nds, the alligators,”
“They likes ut gamy, as it were.”

“They surely have what they want, then,”
Jack, as he turned away.

Alicé looked at the older man reproachfully.

“Denny!” she said,
that awful brogue. Don’t do it again.”

“So it’s commenced already, has it, Denny?” asked
Jack, with a grin. “It'll be awful, the way you'll be
bullied later on. Are congratulations in order?”

Whereupon Denny blushed, and looked sheepish, as he
nodded assent and shook hands. But Alice smiled hap-
pily as Jack wished her joy. Which is the difference
between the ways of a man and a maid on such occa-
sions.

By this time the ill-smelling, meat had side impaled

commented

on the great hooks, which had been thrown into the

 

It was not thought that the enemy
He was
advancing slowly, burning and murdering as he went, 7
and trying with all his power to keep the news that he |

The inemy won’t be down

answered Denny. |

“you know I told you not #6 use .

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NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

and
Then

water, their lines in the hands of four men each,
each, besides, with a turn taken around a tree.
they sat and waited.

It was not inspiring work, this waiting. For some time
Jack endured it patiently enough, but he was lonely.
Denny and Alice sat apart, talking together in low tones,
and he disliked disturbing them, but at last he could
endure it no longer. _

“Denny,” said he, “I hear paddles.”

“Tt’s nothing,” said Denny, in reply. “If there are pad-
dies, it’s only some of our own people; the enemy wouldn’t
try to attack us so, even if he was near enough—and there
are a lot of our men close by. But—look! You've got
a bite!”

Sure enough, one of the lines had tautened, until it
sang like a fiddle string, as something that had hold of it
helow the surface swayed from side to side in resisting
its pull.

With a shout, all the men got hold of: it; and tried to

walk. up. the ‘bank, but in vain.

“My word, but that old chap must be a whale!” called
Denny, who now was as excited as the Indians them-
selves. “Take up the slack, Jack!”

While Denny added his strength to that of the men
who. already were pulling on the line, Jack took hold of
the end that had been passed around the tree, and took
in and held what little they could gain on the giant
saurian below them, . At length, the huge, hideous -head
appeared, and little by little the body followed it, -and
then the tail.

Eyidently that alligator expected enemies in the. rear,
for the tail, as it emerged, slashed from side to side
furiously, and with a power beyond computing.

All were intent on the great brute.. Already one man
had run down the bank with an ax to dispatch it, when
a shot.rang out from the river. The man, dropping the
ax, fell backward, desperately. wounded, and at the same
instant a canoe, crammed with men, shot into the moon-
light beyond the shadow of the trees.

. Dropping the lines, the men ran for the rifles they had
laid. aside, as. the canoe grated on the bank. Her crew
tumbled out of her and charged, a man in. gaudy uniform
at their head.

Until that moment Jack instinctively had held on the
line; now he let it-go.. The giant alligator slid down the
bank, the hook shaking from his mouth as he went, and
his tail lashing. One of the strokes took:the canoe. Her
thick side was smashed like an eggshell, and one of her
men, getting in the way, was thrown high in the air, to
fall, a crushed and bleeding mass, into the river.

The crew of the canoe, now marooned, fought as men
will fight when their backs are at the wall, and they can-
not retreat. /

Jack never could remember anything of the first few
seconds of that fight, and of what followed he could recall
oniy scattered incidents.

The first he clearly knew, a huge half-breed was raising

his machete for a blow which, unchecked, would have split
his head as one splits an apple.

He saw one of his men
Catch the descending blade on that of his own machete
just as Jack’s own pistol, which somehow had got. into
Ris hand, spoke its spiteful message, and the man went
to the ground.

He héard the wild yell of Denny, as the machete flickered
around his head, and knew that his, also, was busy, as he

th

Fae

23

tried to fight his way to .the spot where he and Alice
were standing. Then the rifles began to speak on both
sides.

For a time there was a wild whirl of confusion. Then
the confusion cleared, as a steamer—the same that they
had left stranded—coughed her way to the shore, and
poured forth what seemed to be a cloud of men.

Their own little party now was massed compactly, with
Alice in its midst. They were fighting sullenly and des-
perately, trying step by step to retreat, but the crowd
hemmed them in on every side.

Urging them on was the man in the gaudy uniform.
Some one shouted his name—it was Valdez.

Jack felt against this man a personal enmity, which
he felt toward none-of the others. Darting out from his
party, he engaged him with his machete, for his pistol
was empty, and there was no time to reload.

The man was no coward. Moreover, he was a good
swordsman—as good or a trifle better than Jack himself,
but without Jack’s strength or reach. But how the contest
would have turned out at last will never be, known.

There came a yell of dismay from the assailants, and a
cheer from beltind them, which was echoed by Denny.

“They’re our men! They’ve come!” he roared. “Charrge,

now, ye cripples! Charrge!”
“And the “cripples’—which some of them were, by this
time—charged.

Jack found himself at the head of a crowd of swarthy,
yelling plantation laborers, black hate in their hearts, and
in their hands rifles. with bayonets fixed. All of them
fought as men will when fighting for their homes and
families.

He saw the enemy. retreating to the steamer, those of
them who could, and presently he and his men had boarded
her, and were fighting on her decks. .One of the enemy,
cornered, struck at him. Parrying, Jack thrust in :-return,
Whether or not that thrust went home he did not learn
until some time afterward.

Suddenly, for the hundredth part of a second, . he
saw a firmament of stars, then for a time he knew no
more.

When at last-he became once more aware of things that
were passing in the world, he realized that he was lying,
face upward, on the deck, sputtering water from his mouth
and nostrils. ‘The deck seemed to sway violently. From
these two facts he arrived for a moment at the erroneous
conclusion that the boat was laboring through a storm, and
had just shipped a sea.

Then he saw that Denny stood over him, his face anx-
ious and in his hand a bucket which evidently had just
been emptied over him. Then he realized that the motion
of the deck existed only in his swimming head.

“Why ain’t you fighting?” he managed to gasp.
you run away, or what?”

“Thank heavens, you’ve come out of it!”
fervent exclamation.

“What hit me?” asked Jack.

“A little gentieman, the color of a good cigar, who now
sleeps with his fathers. He used a capstan bar. See here,
Jack, can you walk, do you think?”

Assisted by Denny, Jack stumbled to his feet, and
though he staggered drunkenly, managed to stay on them.
Then he looked about him,

“Have

was Denny’s

 
CHAPTER XII.
THE FIRST BATTLE.

The fighting was over, so far as the steamer was con-
cerned. On the upper deck stood a bunch of. dejected
‘prisoners. Wounded lay in rows along the rails. Glancing
at the prisoners, Denny grinned.

“They all expect to be killed,” said he.

“What are you going to do with ’em?”

“Enlist most of ’em on our side. They were conscripted,
and for the most part will be ready enough to- fight
against the men who did it. Jack, do you know anything
about engines ?”

“Sure. It was part of my course at college.
of engines?”

“The engines of this boat.”

“If I couldn’t handle that junk heap I’d be ashamed
of myself. Simple low pressure, taken out of the Ark
when she went aground. Come on!”

“That’s the trouble with this boat; she’s aground, too.
It seems to be a habit of hers,” said Denny, as, taking
the arm of his friend, he led the way toward the engine
room. “We have the engineer, but I don’t trust him. He’s
a hot Valdez man; I know him of old. He’d wreck us
if he could—and I’ve got to be in the pilot house. Got your
pistol ?”

By way of answer Jack extracted the weapon from its
holster, and snapped a loaded magazine into its stock,
sheathing his machete, which he still was holding mechani-
cally.

“Valdez—bad luck go with him—managed to put a boat
over the side, and escape with three others,” Denny went
on. “We want to catch him before he reaches the other
steamer below. She’s right around the bend there. Hear?”

There was no difficulty in hearing. From the down-
stream side of a. pointed headland that jutted into the
river, the sound of heavy rifle fire came distinctly enough,
now and then punctuated by the heavier report of a field
gun.

The dusky engineer was brought down. At first, with
folded atms and a magnificent attitude, he refused to
touch a lever, Before Jack could interfere, a bayonet was
inserted for a half inch of so into’a prominent portion of
his anatomy. This caused him to reconsider his decision.

Steam already was sizzling through the valves. The en-
gine-room - bells~ jangled- a signal to back.:° Carefully
watched by Jack, and uttering smothered curses, the en-
gineer threw ‘over the reversing lever, and: Cees the
throttle.

The paddles slapped the water vigorously. ° The boat
stirred, hesitated, then, with her keel grating ‘over the
bottom, floated clear. A. shrill cheer from the crowded
decks above greeted the success.

As the vessel straightened out on the course, the old
engines coughed and clanked, forcing the ramshackle hull
ahead.. Jack supposed that they were on their way down
the river, but he had no way of knowing in what direc-
tion they were going, or what they intended to do on
reaching their destination.

Though he realized fully that his position was a most
important one, and that there had been no time to ex-
plain, Jack chafed at the suspense and inaction. He began
to understand, as never, before, what must ‘be the feel-
ings of the stokers of a.man-of-war in action.

Suddenly Denny’s voice, hollow and sepulchral, sounded
apparently from nowhere. Jack started before he located

What sort

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

it as issuing from the mouth of a speaking tube not
far from his ear.

“Hello!” he called, in return. “Where’s Alice, Denny?
I forgot, when I recovered from being woozy, that she'd
been with us.”

“In between the woodpiles. It’s the safest place in this
boat, Heaven grant she’ll stay there. Listen, Jack. When
the signal to stop and back. come, see that that hal#-
breed animal at the throttle obeys them quick!”

“Sure!” replied Jack, and the voice from above spoke
no more.

The engine bells, however, sounded for full speed, which
was given with commendable promptness. On the decks

above was @ silence which to Jack seemed ominous, and

which allowed the firing, now much closer than it had
been, to be plainly heard.

He, too, hoped that Alice would stay where shed had

been put, but somehow he doubted it. He knew what
Denny had said was true—the position between the piles
of fuel would be the safest available place; there was

room for no one below the water line of that light

ABA aie

draft river craft. ae
Nearer and nearer drew the rattling rifle fire, but from

the Estrella del Este, there came no shot in reply. Jack ,

could not understand it. That Denny had some plan in
his head was certain, but what it was he could not imagine.
The suspense had become well-nigh unbearable, when
there came once. more the sepulchral topes from the speak-
ing tube.

“Stand by now, Jack, me lad. As soon as the engines

are stopped, run to th’ for’ard deck, an’ lead the men there.
You’re the chief, you know, not me—it’s only on the

water that I command—because it’s. my profession, ye
see, There wasn’t time to explain. Ye don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t, you blazing idiot!” exclaimed Jack ~ ~

y??

heartily. “Give your signals—I’m ready!

With an excited little laugh, he drew both pistol and
machete; then turned to the now thoroughly frightened

engineer with a4 command in broken Spanish to act upon
the coming signals promptly. And this command the en-
gineer made plain that he was abjectly anxious to obey,
The ‘signal: came: almost at once;
to reverse them, and then to stop them again.

‘Hardly had the® last- signal been obeyed, ‘when Jack:
As he dashed along the alleyway, a
At the same in-
stant there was a fierce blast of rifle fire from the’

darted for his post.
bump threw him almost from his feet.

deck, and a wild yell followed it.
the sunlit deck.
” His eyes were dazzled, coming as he did into the light
from the comparative darkness of the engine room; yet he
managed to see that a crowd of his men were drawn up
in such order as the space allowed on the forward deck,
and that the Estrella del Este, her gangways down, was
fast to another steamer, which lay moored to the bank.
Obviously he was expected to board, and. raising a
shout, he did so, his men pouring after him in a swarm.
To his astonishment there was no resistance. What few
men they met stood in sullen silence, their arms laid at
their feet. In a few seconds the steamer was overrun by

Then Jack emerged upoti

those who had come to take her, from her pilot house to _

the shallow hold. One'man alone, of those few of the
enemy who had been unable to escape the rush, was
busy.

He was on the hurricane deck, or what would have

to stop the enaines,

  

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P titer: the hurricane deck, had this South American boat
Piicen built like those which navigate our own rivers. A
" six-pound, rapid-fire gyn had been set there on a light
mounting. Its breechblock was open, and the man was
bending over it, trying to unseat the pin of its hinge,
with the evident intention of throwing it overboard, thus
to disable the gun.

One blow from the flat of Jack’s machete stretched the
plucky fellow senseless on the deck, where he was secured
and bound with the celerity which comes with practice—
-and there were few of the men on either side who had
not had quite enough of this practice to make them
proficient.

y) ©@A hasty glance showed Jack that the gun still was un-

» injured. Stooping, he lifted one of the great cartridges

ie lying at his feet, threw it into the breech, and locking it

there, slewed the gun around, so that its slender muzzle
bore shoreward.

i for the first time, he had an opportunity to look
n that direction.

* th body of the enemy, some two hundred strong, was
) fetreating slowly toward the two boats, their rear guard
a as it went, throwing one well-ordered volley
after another into a thicket of uncut sugar cane that sur-
rounded the open field where they had been formed.

Evidently but a small crew had been left on the boat,
for the Estrella del Este, as she came, was not suspected
of being in the hands of their adversaries.

This crew, bunched, had been running toward their
friends, and were merged in their masses as Jack saw them.
Hastily sighting the gun, he pulled the lanyard.

The piece cracked viciously. Its little shell whirred: for-
ward, falling a trifle low, so that it buried itself just in
oN front of the retreating force, and exploded there.

. Little damage was done; just a shower of earth, and
probably some flying fragments. But the moral effect
ne -was great. The enemy paused and wavered, The rifle-
men hidden in the cane field redoubled their fire, and
» this drove them on again toward the boats, and another
sshell—this one fell well within their ranks, but failed to

lexplode—did not entirely check them.

They. came on, but not with enthusiasm. Realizing what
Sifew amateur soldiers do, that ordinary artillery is not a
fy Particularly effective device when used against men in the
eres, Jack hurried away to arrange his men on the shore-

ward side of the captured boat, in order that their rifles

ight do what the gun alone could not. But before he

© reached them, there came the. drumming rattle of.a ma-

chine gun.

It came from the Estrella del Este. Denny. was work-
ing it. He had cast his boat loose from the captured
steamer—Mapocho was the latter’s name—whereupon she
had drifted a little downstream, leaving the range clear.
And also, for the third time, she had run‘aground.

It took. but a very short time for Jack’s men to: get
into position.. There was a second’s tense pause, while Jack
glanced along his ranks.

“Fire at will! Commence firing!” he shouted.

The language was English, but Jack’s tone conveyed his
meaning. There was a crash of rifles, like a volley;
then ‘they began to rattle as fast as the men behind them
could work their repeating mechanism.

Though the marksmanship was vile, as it always is in

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

 

25

   

those countries, a certain percentage of that stream of
flying missiles was bound to reach targets at that range.
No troops in the world could have stood for long against
that fire, combined with the deadly hail of the Gatling.

Bravely enough their officers tried to rally them, the
bright uniform of Valdez rendering him the most con-
spicuous among them all. Snatching a rifle from oné of
his men, Jack sighted hastily on the gaudy blouse, and
fired.

Valdez fell, then staggered to his feet again; and,
assisted by two of his men, was hurried into their ranks,
which closed and concealed him. Nevertheless, the shot
had its effect. The advancing ranks wavered, broke, and,
with yells of dismay, started backward, fot. the most part
a wild, disorganized mob.

Breaking through the cover of green sugar cane, a
hedge of bayonets glittered for an instant before the
men who held them appeared in the open. Mr. Baynes,
tall and soldierly, sprang out before them, waving the
machete which he held in his hand as a signal for the
flanks of his line to move forward at a run, thus to
inclose the routed enemy on three sides, while the river
itself and the two men barred the fourth.

One group of the enemy, rallying and fighting with des-
perate bravery, broke through the thin line of the Baynes
fortes, and disappeared into the cane. A. few men started
after them, but they were called back. There were none
to spare.

Once more the enemy hesitated. Calling on his men
to follow him, Jack dashed ashore, and almost without
orders his erstwhile plantation laborers deployed along
the bank.

The enemy was wholly surrodnded”s now. There was no
way out. Moved apparently by a common impulse, his
met thrust forward the butts of their rifles in the old
Spanish signal of surrender. Wild cheers rang out, for
the time the fighting was over, and the first real battle had
been won.

TO BE CONTINUED,

WOLVES.
By OSCAR BLISS.

My grandfather moved his family to western New York
from New England some seventy yéars ago, and took up
a farm in a beautiful valley, far removed from all neigh-
bors, save the “noble red man” and the howling denizens
of the forest.

At that time my father was a boy of fifteen, the eldest
of a numerous family of children, but his surroundings
tended to develop the latent energies of body and mind of -
which he was. possessed, and very early in life he became
noted as a wide-awake backwoodsman. In _ physical
strength he was a young Hercules, and weighed, wher
only eighteen, two hundred and twenty pounds.

Nor was his education neglected, for his father, being
an educated man, gave the young giant good opportunities
to acquire useful knowledge, of which he availed him-
self with avidity. The family flourished as the years
went by, and our father, while yet in his teens, was widely .
known as one of the most daring and successful trappers
and the best shot. with a rifle in that part of the State.

/

   

  
     

  

. 26 NEW

    

In those early days the mail was carried by men on
foot long distances through almost trackless forests, where
dangers lurked on every hand; where only the true eye, the
steady nerve, and the trusty rifle could save the frontiers-
man’s life. In the summer time the task was a pleasant
one, and quickly performed, but when the wintry snows
covered the earth to the depth of several feet, and the
journey had to be made on snowshoes, it became a matter
of far more serious nature. My father was one of those
mail carriers for a time, and from the stories he told me
in later years of his adventures, he evidently earned all
the money he received for his perilous duties.

One cold winter night, when the snow glistened like
diamonds in the bright rays of the moon, which was just
rising over the forest trees, the sturdy mail carrier, after
a hearty meal at a farmhouse in the wilderness, proceeded
to strap his knapsack on his back for a night journey
toward home, with the next habitation fifteen miles dis-
tant. The matronly woman, with all in the house, sought
to dissuade him from the rash undertaking, but he only
smiled, and, opening the door, he passed out into the night.
But the woman followed him; the howling of the wolves
sounded painfully distinct and close at hand, and she called
the young man’s attention to the fact that these gaunt
forerunners of famine had never been so bold and numer-
ous before. He only fondled his rifle, and said he guessed
they would keep out of his way. The woman was alarmed
and fairly aroused, though outwardly calm. She knew
the daring character of the man before her, and she saw
that his desire to reach home that night. might cost him
his life. So, seeming to acquiesce, she induced him to
come back, and sit down while. she prepared for him a
“strong toddy” to enable him to bear the fatigues of the
journey, as she expressed: it, though.secretly she had no
faith in strong drink; but the mail carrier . reluctantly
yielded, and while the kettle was. boiling the old lady
commenced a long story of her girlhood. in the loved and
far-away New England. --When the toddy was ready, .the
story was but half told, and when the story. was finished,
our hero was safe from wolves for that night.. The old
lady had drugged: the liquor, for she reasoned. that no one
man cauld long face the fierce, gleaming eyes that shone
on every side of the house.

Now, it chanced that on the trail which the mail carrier
would have taken had the. woman permitted him, three men
struggled manfully through the deep snow, hoping to reach
the farmhouse before dark.

As ‘night came on they were. within two rhiles of their
destination, but’ no farther could they go. The cruel,
treacherous wolves, that had long hovered on their . path,
now gathered in on all sides, and, snapping and snarling,
plainly told them they must stop and fight for their
lives. This they did, and three well-directed bullets warned
the pack to keep a little farther away.

Fortunately, at this juncture, one of the men discov-
ered a fallen tree, the top of which was some ten feet
from the ground. If they could walk up this long tree
to the branches, they felt they would be comparatively
safe, for the time being, at least.

By mounting the log, and then giving their foes aifother
volley, they readily accomplished their design, and actually
their lives were saved. But who can tell the horrors of
that long, cold winter night, with thousands of famishing
‘wolves only barely out of reach, whose ceaseless -howlings

 
  

 

LIP >) YOR+WHEERALY.

heard.

 

made all efforts to communicate with cach other by word
of mouth futile and useless.

Further they speedily found that wolves could walk a
log as well as they. Shooting them answered for a time;
but soon they came faster than the guns could be loaded,
and it became necessary to club a rifle and knock the in-
truders off whenever they came close enough, which was
frequently the case, as the long line of wolves in the
rear kept crowding those in front on to a fate, which, in
nearly every case, was sufficlently tragical for the con-
templation of any one—if at a safe distance.

There were numerous branches in this treetop, which
afforded the three men good opportinity for holding on,
and at the same time made it difficult for the enemy to
get round, so that it required but a moderate blow, when
a wolf was struggling to get by a large limb, to knock
him off into the horrid, distended jaws, which, in nearly:
every case, would tear him to pieces. fe

To some it might appear fine sport for these three men
to stand up, and by turns knock off wolves for other
wolves to kill and eat, but the men could not help think-
ing, all that wretched night, that if either failed to hit his
wolf fairly and the animal once fastened his jaws upon

him, the waiting pack below would soon have something: |

beside wolf meat ‘to feast upon:
However, they were. saved, and this js how it Wate
pened:

The mail carrier awoke from his ‘Tahscie, seas
about an hour before day, and, realizing his prtuationy) took
his rifle and started: at once.

He was just congratulating himself that the wolves had
all gone, probably after other game, when suddenly he
heard’ their howling, and almost immediately:came on: the
whole pack that beleaguered the men in: the treetop.

It was now growing daylight, and the carrier, being an
experienced trapper,. knew-that the wolves at that hour

could. be easily | frightened; he saw the men, and knew

they could do ‘nothing for themselves, SO, ° discharging
his rifle at the nearest wolf, and then firing his brace of

double-barreled pistols in quick succession as he ran,

|

a

the wolyes fell back, and, as a puff of wind ‘gathers | i
cloud’ of snow, and’ scatters it none can tell where,
those’ wolves disappeared in the forest. - a

It was none too soon. The poor mef in ‘the tree were
almost paralyzed with cold_and the horrors of their
awful experience, and all acknowledged that they were on”
the point of yielding to what they had ‘come to’ think was_
an inevitable fate, when the welcome report of a rifle Was
ty

But what a sight met their gaze as the day ‘fully
dawned. Acres of snow were beaten down, while around
and under the tree the bones of wolves that had been
killed were scattered thickly about.

The mail carrier accompanied the three men to their ~
home, which he had so recently left, and there, over a —
good breakfast, learned how a woman had stolen away -

his wits, and, without doubt, saved his life. And- she
learned, kind soul, that a good deed is often practically
its own record, for, in striving to save the life of a
neighbor she was really working for the lives of her hus-
band and two grown-up sons, whose danger sha, knew
nothing of. But her action, also, was more far-reaching
than she could have ever dreamed, for her two sors and
the mail carrier in after years became quite prominent in
the affairs of State, and very useful members of society.

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ny to H i ere

when ans is Back. and Clancy stories, I would suggest bringing them to-

nodes Dear Eprtor: I have been reading Tip To® for nearly gether, although I would sooner have the Clancy series.

early 4 five years and think it is the best weekly published. Let’s Hoping to see: this published, I remain, ;
Nese _ hear more about the old crowd, like Bruce Browning, 4642 Wallace St., Chicago, Ill. Wiram Morpuy.

ead » Higgins, Hans Dunnerwurst, and the others.

othe: If you have any more Merriwell cards left, please send White Christmas and Cold Winter.

hink- I. me a set. Hoping this escapes the wastebasket, I remain, John Drake, the Muhlenberg, Pa., township goose-bone

1 te a loyal Tip Topper, N. J. Perrusicu. weather prophet, predicts a cold winter.

San Francisco, Cal. “There will be a white Christmas,” he says. “I am

rs “Yankee Joe” is Dead, Age 81. positive that the holiday season this year will not be
green. It is a difficult matter to say whether there will

b . Joseph W. Ramsdell, better known to hundreds of old- be enough snow for sleighing.”

timers as “Yankee Joe,” died at St. Ann’s Hospital, at A number of local forecasters agree with Drake in this

“Anaconda, Mont., of old age. He was eighty-one years

 

 
  
  
 
    

respect, saying that surely the snow will be deep this com-

took #) — of age. ing winter because the weeds are so very high. From
|) “Yankee Joe” was one of the earliest of Montana the sections where there was a frost recently it is reported

: had i. pioneers, and came from Maine fifty years ago. He ae that the tips of the leaves on the hickory trees point sky-
ly he ~ ducted the “Yankee Joe Flat,” a roadhouse ten miles ward. If the tips curl downward/when touched by frost
West of the city, during the Cable boom. Afterward ‘a mild’ winter is certain, but when they turn upward

 

) he moved to near Danielsville, where he had a ranch
“Wand a mine.
, An Earnest Tip Topper.
Dear Epiror: Being an earnest Tip Top reader, I have
taken the privilege of writing this letter to tell you I
_ think it is fine.

Will you kindly send me a set of post cards?

' Hoping this will escape the wastepaper basket, I
ie Di eriain, F, FLAvin.
River Rouge, Mich.

ee

 

 

 

 

A Jap’s Quick Retort,

Into the subway train which carried a great city’s ‘ist
Ness men to their offices daily stepped a young Japanese
compositor, who was employed on a Japanese paper. He
pulled his morning paper from his pocket and became
wrapped in its contents almost at once.

At the next station in stepped a smart youth, who
eyed the little brown man from across the water patroniz-
ingly.

“What sort of a ‘nese’ are you?” he asked finally, “a
Japanese or a Chinese?”

The young Jap was not at all at loss for an answer.
Quick as a flash came his retort:

- “What sort of a ‘key’ are you, anyway; a monkey, a
donkey, or a Yankee?”
ae . That Clancy Series.
")) Deak Eptror: I have read Tir Top for the last three
) years and have never found anything wrong with it, but
a Seeing that the readers are differing on the Merriwell

 

    

it is a sign that they are winter leaves, and that there is

/ going to be plenty of wind blowing and plenty of snow

whirling among the trees.

This is known as the “off year” for chestnuts, but
the twigs are unusually loaded with burs. This indi-
cates to some folks that surely a hard winter is ahead.
It is said that Providence in this way provides plenty of
food for the squirrels to store away in the hollow trees.

A Fine Weekly.

Dear Epitor: As big as Lowell is, I have not seen a
letter from this city. I have been reading both Tir
Top and Top-Notch for about two years. I think Tip
Top is a fine weekly.

If you have any cards left, I would like to have a
set. L. W. Wiccrn.

‘ Lowell, Mass.

“Bat-the-rat” Week in Kansas.

The week beginning October 5 was designated as “bat-
the-rat” week in Kansas, and during that time every
one was expected to kill all the rats to be found about
his premises.

The State board of health is conducting the cam-
paign to get rid of the rats, not only because of the
health, but because of the economic losses from the
food consumed and wasted by rats.

It is estimated by J. S.. Crumbine,
board, that rats consume $3,500,000 a year in grain,
chickens, eggs, vegetables, and other articles on the
Kansas farms, and nearly as much more in groceries and

secretary of the
 

28

 

meats and other foodstuffs stored in warehouses and kept
in the stores.

Doctor Crumbine has sent to the county and city health
officers of the State a letter, asking them to get out into
every section of the State and campaign among the farm-
ers and business men to get every one to take pains to
kill as many rats as possible.

Stick to It,

Dear Eprror: What’s the matter with the Merriwells?

They are all right,

They can fight,

They’re always in the game;

They'll get there just the same.

So what’s the matter with the Merriwells?
They’re all right!

That’s Mr. Standish’s, not mine.

I have written to the Compass once before, but as
you wish to hear from the readers of Trp Top as often
as they can write, I am writing again.

I saw in one of the letters to the Compass where one
of the readers says that Mr. Standish was not a good
football writer. Say, Mr. Standish is the best writer of
football stories I know of, and then some. I’ve just read
“Dick Merriwell’s Defense,” in the New Medal Library,
and it’s great. I’ve read a lot of the Medal and New
Medal Library books, but the trouble is I can’t get them
from my news dealer, as he hasn’t any—the Merriwell
series, I mean. I’d like to see Chip, Red Clancy, and
Villum Kess go on a long trip to Europe and visit coun-
tries there. Would like to see Melim Bey, the Turk,
again, with the three chums—Chip, Red, and Villum—
in adventures in Europe.

But I think it’s best for Chip back at Fardale again,
just now.

When Mr. Standish wrote stories of Dick, he had him
doing jokes in the classroom, and everywhere else.

I’m awfully anxious for Mr. Standish to give himself
a “write-up.”

This letter is getting too long I fear, so I’ll close, until
another time. JosepH M. Carte.

Knoxville, Tenn.

P. S. Your advice to me about learning baseball seems
all right, but I haven’t got the hang of the game yet. I
understand the rules, but not the playing part of the
game.

Please tell me what my measurements should be. I am
17 years old and weigh 113 pounds. I am a lightweight,
you see. I am taking Professor Fourmen’s advice’ about
taking on weight. Pea Kae

Send your height, if you want your proper measure-
ments. :

Don’t expect to become a ball player all at once, You
can often make a good football player in a season, but it
takes years to make a good baseball player.

Our circulation department has taken up the matter of
your failure to get Medal books. Thanks for telling us
about it,

Which Killed the Big Hawk.
said the father, when called upon
“better go and consult Hawkshaw

“T’'m no Solomon,”
to decide this case;
the Detective.”

In a combat with a hawk measuring more than seven

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

 

i a a,

   
  

feet from tip to tip of its wings, either Dorothy or Mar-7

jorie McClintock, of West Springfield, Mass., killed the
bird. The girls are twins, eight years old.

The hawk had kept the McClintock barnyard in terror
for a week. Tuesday afternoon it swooped down to get
its daily chicken. When the twins ran toward the hawk,
it rose a short distance, then darted toward them.

The girls grabbed stones and opened fire on the ap-
proaching enemy. A stone struck the hawk squarely in
one eye and it fell like a plummet. Each twin was sure
the deadly stone had been flung by her.

Can’t be Equaled.

Dear Proressor FourmMeNn: Having followéd the for-
tunes of the Merriwell tribe for the last five years, I
would like to express my opinion of them.

The Merriwell stories cannot be equaled in their class
of fiction. They are just grand, and the reading of them
is like the eating of honey. Burt L. can certainly form
characters.

I hear from many of my friends that the card pic-
tures of the characters are helping them a lot in under-
standing the stories better, so I would be very much
obliged if you could spare a set for me.

If he doesn’t object, I would like to offer a little ad-
vice to Burt L. It is the following: Old Crowfoot is a
great character and a great success, so why can’t the same
be made of old Toots. He could be made to be Chip’s
bodyguard. Speaking of Chip, I would like to say that
although very good, he is not as good as Dick and Frank:

Wishing a long life to Tre Tor, Burt L., and Street & ~

Smith, I remain, A Brooxiyn Tip Topper,

Country Circus is Thing of the Past.

Colonel John F. Robinson, the veteran cireus propri-
etor, who has just rounded out his seventieth year, says
that he practically quit work five years ago, and since
then he has been absolutely miserable,

“Why?” he repeated. “Nothing to do; nothing in the
world but to have a good time. I tell you it’s a miserable
existence, and I shouldn’t be surprised if next year I broke
over the traces and went back to work.

“How long have I been in the show business? All
my life, and before. I was in the ring when I was only
eighteen months old.

“Have there been changes in the circus business? Yes,”
with a sigh. “The circus business was at its’ best before
the trolley car took to leaving the big towns and going
out along the country roads. Nowadays almost any
farmer boy can do a day’s work, hop on a trolley car,
ride thirty or forty miles into town, see a good moving-
picture show, and be back in bed at home by midnight.
The result is that the day of the little circus is gone,
and only the very best and biggest survive.

“The day has passed when any circus can make a
lot of money. I do not recall what was the best circus
year I had, but the best the Barnum & Bailey circus
had was the first year after they got Jumbo.” Bailey

told me himself that they had cleared $1,500,000 that 4

year. I should cut that in half, for, though I who say

it am a showman myself, when circus and theatrical men

talk figures it is necessary to divide at least by two.
“A rival of mine used to tell me of clearing two thou-

sand dollars on a performance, and it used to make me ©

blue until I learned that he used to double his figures

  

  

 

 

 

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d the. .3

terror
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e ap-
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broke

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s only

Yes,”
before
going
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y Car,
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gone,

ake a
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Bailey

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al men

—thou-

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:
i
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an aa

a 3

“When speaking of receipts.. So I wired my manager to
quadruple his when he made his reports. One day I got
a wire that receipts had been twenty thousand dollars,
and this nobody would believe. As a matter of fact, they
had been only five thousand dollars.

“Those figures always came back to plague us in some
way. They were good to feed the public on, but the
towns would be sure to jump the price of the license the
following year.”

‘Many Pleasant Hours With “Tip Top.”

DEAR Epiror: As I have been a reader of Tip Tor for
nine years, and have read every copy except a few of
the first Gopies, I wish to say that it is the finest weekly.

read quite a number of books and like Burt L.’s stories
the best of all. I read all the stories in the back of the
weekly, and like the story of the Fire Fighter first-rate.
I like all the stories that have been written about all of
the characters, but would like to read more about Far-
"dale and Yale. They were the stories that made you sit
up and take notice. I would like to read about Frank,
oe junior, at Fardale, and have him meet a girl friend, and
Nalso have Dick and Frank, senior, and the rest of the
old friends visit Fardale and Yale.
© 1 could write a lot more and tell what I like to
| read, but I know Burt L. knows what he is doing.

~) I would like to meet Mr. Standish and shake ‘hands with

him for the many pleasant hours I have spent reading his
stories.
Would you please send me a set of the post cards?
Yours truly, Wo. SmirH.
226 Maryland Avenue, Millvale, Pa.

Pie Biter Loses on a Foul.

Aleck Sticker, a window washer, of Elyria, Ohio, who
tan put a billiard ball in his mouth with ease, bet $10
One day recently that he could bite clean through aa even
dozen of apple pies, the pies to be laid one on the other
and placed on the edge of a lunch counter.

The bet was made and Sticker lost. He bit through
the pies all right, but the waiter forgot to remove one
of the tin plates, and the referee ruled that Sticker’s
bite was not “clean through.” , Sticker says he was robbed
and threatens to sue.

7:

Congratulations,

|. Dear Eniror: Congratulations to 'you and Mr. Standish,
with my thanks, also. Congratulations and thanks to
Burt L, for recovering his old-time cleverness and bring-
ing back old characters to the king of weeklies, Tre Top.
The same to you, because of your codperation with him
by publishing it.
“Frank Merriwell’s River Problem” was. so extraor-
\ dinarily good that I just had to sit down and pen my appre-
» Ciation. Some time ago, I was vexed at Mr. Standish, and
» I wanted to write him a personal letter, with a load of
Th growling attached, but refrained, hoping he would realize
we faults"himself and some day take us back to the old
s an This he has done, and I am joyful! _
I do not care much for the stories wherein Mexican
Beackiers are introduced, but the plots laid in Kansas just
; ae me, for I am greatly interested in that State.
exas backgrounds suit me, too, but I prefer the East.
Lately we have been getting a lot about the West, to the

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY:

 

29

delight of our Western readers, but I fear we Eastern
boys and girls are becoming jealous. I am, anyway.

_I would now suggest that the course Mr. Standish has
been pursuing be kept up. I mean, have a series of three,
with one of the Merriwells as the leading character fol-
low each other in order. Sometimes have two of the
family in conjunction, and at other periods have the trio
together.

Take Chip back to Fardale, and let us hear about Jimmy
Fortune again. It would be great for him to enter the
school.

As you seem to have an unlimited supply of cards,
please send me a set. Also, please print my name and
address, so if any one so desires they can write to me, as
I would be pleased to hear from other readers.

“Refuse me” for taking up so much space, I am, sincerely
yours, Leon C. pe MINE.

55 Cleveland Street, Youngstown, Ohio.

Chip will be at Fardale for Christmas.

Champion Eaters ate Again Busy.

A short time ago the papers printed a news item
reporting a remarkable gastronomic feat performed by
a man given to boasting of his ability to eat large quan-
tities of food, and who did astonish spectators by the
amount he actually consumed. However, the papers did
not expect to receive several more communications in
the same line of endeavor, but they have, and while they
are considered more amusing than instructive, the Blade
presents them,

John L. Moon,’ of Opelika, Ala., after explaining that
his attention had been called to a Blade account of an
extraordinary eating feat, goes on to Say:

“I know of a boy by the name of Roy Clark, eighteen
years old, who sat down to a table and, on a wager of
fifty dollars, ate nine and one-half dozen fried eggs,
drank ten cups of coffee, ate two loayes of bread, one
dozen oranges, and a pound of stick candy. He got up
from the table mad, too, because the parties that bet
he could not do it went back in the kitchen and bribed
the cook to fry the rest of the eggs in an enormous
amount of grease so as to make him sick.

“Young Clark walked five miles to his home in Dotham,
and Doctor G. H. Cooper, who was a practicing physi-
cian in Dotham at the time, and was the family physi-
cian, says he was not called to see him, and he sup-
posed he got along all right.”

Wants a Girl for Chip.

Dear Epitor: I have read the Tre Tor Weexty for the
past seven years, and I think it is truly “an ideal pub-
lication for the American youth.”

I did not, like the stories of Owen Clancy as well as
I do those about the Merriwells, and I am glad to see
Frank, senior, and Dick back in the stories. Was glad
also to read again of Frank’s old friends, Jack, Bruce,
Buck, Hans, and Ephraim.

Mr. Standish, why don’t you bring Dick’s old friends -
back to the pages of Tip Tor? I want to hear of Dale
Sparkfair, Chester Arlington, young Joe Crowfoot, Hal
Darrell, Dave Flint, Rob Claxton, Bouncer Biglow, Tommy
Tucker, Brad Buckhart, and others. And the girls, those
dear, sweet girls! Tie Top isn’t hardly complete without
them. Where are Felicia, Madge, Rose, Mabel, Claudia,

   

  
  

 

30 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

Doris, and June? I sure hope they reappear in Tip Top
soon,

I read Dick’s stories around Starbright,
oil fields with additional pleasure, as I live
from there.

When are we going to hear some more stories of Chip
at Fardale? Will we read of Billy Ballard again? I
like Chip’s new pard, Doc Fisher, fine. I hope Chip finds
a girl soon, and like Miss B. S., of Windsor, N. S., I
want her to be a blonde. I hope. Dick and June marry
soon, as I think it is about time.

Now, Professor Fourmen, I am going to give you my
measurements. Please criticize them.

I am 20, exactly; weight, 129 pounds, stripped; height,
5 feet 1o inches; chest, normal, 32%4 inches; expanded,
36 inches; waist, 2844 inches; hips, 32% inches; thighs,
18% inches; shoulders, 42 inches; neck, 13%4 inches;
arms, up, 1134 inches; arms, down, 934 inches; wrist, 614
inches; forearms, 9% inches; calves, 12% inches; ankles,
9% inches.

Now, Professor Fourmen, I would like to know my
weak points. I take part in many games and sports, and
practice athletics at home. I am a fairly good runner but
am short-winded. Is my weight what it should be? If
not, how can I increase it? What about my chest? What
can I do to develop it? I have read “Frank Merriwell’s
Book of Athletic Development” and have followed the ad-
vice in it, but am unable to increase my chest expansion.
I shall be glad to follow any advice you give me.

Well, I must close my letter, as it is getting rather long.
Now, I have written two other letters to the Compass and
have seen neither of them in print, and although this is
a rather lengthy letter, I hope to see it printed real soon.
And if this one isn’t printed, I won’t write any more.

With three cheers for Burt L., Street & Smith, and
Tip Top WEEKLY, I am, a Tip Top reader,

Bromide, Okla. GrraLp McIntosuH.

You should weigh at least 160 pounds.

All your measurements are way below what they
should be. This is particularly true of your chest, which
is more than four inches to the bad. Keep after it, fol-
lowing the directions in Frank’s book, and your chest will
surely grow larger. But this will not be the case if you
only take the exercises “once in a while.” You must take
them regularly.

Okla:, in the
not. far

Germany Feeling Scarcity of Food.

The food situation will soon be critical in many parts
gf Germany. Reports from Berlin tell of a scarcity of the
necessities of life, especially wheat, and the high cost
of living is being felt keenly. With nearly all able-
bodied men at the front or serving in the landsturm, the
last line of reserves, practically all important industries
are at a standstill.

However, the great majority of the German people
appear to be optimistic regarding the outcome of the war.
They are prepared for sacrifices and suffering, but are
confident that in the end Germany will triumph over all
her enemies. In a small degree there have been evi-
dences of impatience over the strict censorship, the coun-
try having but little actual knowledge of what is going
on in the eastern and western theaters of war. There
is an element which is opposed to war, and it has been
active recently, placards having been placed secretly at
night in Berlin and other large cities, reading: “We

 

want peace.” These signs have been torn down by the
authorities, who say that the people who caused thém to
be put up represent only a small proportion of the Ger-
man citizenship.

Berlin is reported quiet. Thousands of wounded gol-
diers have been sent there, and near the capital there
is a larg camp of prisoners, guarded by the landsturm.
Most of the soldier prisoners are French and Belgians.
There are a large number of civilians, principally Rus-
sians and Englishmen, gathered up because they were the
subjects of the nations with which Germany is at war.
Russia has accepted a proposition to exchange prisoners
with Germany.

Day and night large forces of men have been at work
constructing intrenchments around Berlin. The GY
is well fortified, though not as strongly as Paris.

On a recent Sunday a crowd of 300,000 persons in
Unter den Linden, Berlin’s great promenade, surged sing-
ing and cheering after having received news of the de-
feat of a Russian force by the Germans.
were thrown open, and hundreds passing by stopped in,
dropping on their knees for a few minutes of silent

prayer, and then rejoining the swaying throngs in the ~

streets. Women and girls swept along in line to the
strains of “Deutschland Ueber Allies.”
According to Berlin reports, bakers throughout Ger-

many are reducing the size of tye-bread loaves and white ~

rolls. Wheat supplies for Germany by way of Holland
have ceased since the blockade of the North Sea. Great
Britain is permitting no grain to enter Holland con-
signed to private persons or firms. The Dutch govern-
ment is being held responsible for all other deliveries.

The Lokal-Anziger, a Berlin newspaper, complained in
a recent issue that prisoners of war are fed better than
millions of Germans, the prisoners getting meat every
day. It suggested that wounded and dead horses on
the battlefields should be immediately converted into
sausage and other food.

Glad Dick is Back,

Dear Epitor: I am glad to see you have got good old
Dick Merriwell on the job again.

Give us more stories about Frank Merriwell, junior, at
Fardale, and about Ballard, Clancy, and Kess. Don’t for-
get and leave them out.

Hoping you will send me a set of your post cards, |
will close, wishing Burt L. Standish good health so he
can keep on writing more stories. Frep CAaRLson,

4403 Greenwood Avenue, Chicago, II.

Freak $20 Bank Note Puzzles Cashiers,

Puzzle—How can a roll of bills contain $300 accord-
ing to the count of one man, but only $290 by the count
of another, and both men be right?

While the solution of this question was being sought
in the First National Bank of Milwaukee, the cashier
of the bank became wroth, and the man to whom $300 had
been counted out stubbornly refused to take the bundle,
which he said contained only $290.

After the bills had been rummaged over for nearly
half an hour there came a more minute examination, and
then the discovery of a fallacy.

In the pack was a note which was of the value of $20
on one side and only $10 on the other. The freak “bill
reached Chicago in the possession of Theodore E. Leon,

  

Church doors ©

 

  
 

  
  
   
  
   
  
  
   
   
    
   
  
  
  

 

 

 
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
   
  
   
 
  
  
 
    
  
   
  
   
 
  
  
   
 

   
  
   
   
NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. 31

ecretary of the American Numismatic Society. The face

£ the $20 note was shown, and the reverse side of the $10
Note. The $20 was of the issue of 1907, and was from

the National City Bank of Chicago, bearing the sig-
“Matures of President David. R. Forgan and Cashier W.

. McLaury.

“The bill, although of the issue of 1907, has come

BS Out in the last six weeks, and is Aldrich-Vreeland cur-

“Teney law money,” said Mr..McLaury. “It was printed in

dee that way as the result of carelessness of the engravers.
The notes are run off on plates with a $20 at the top

‘and three $10 bills underneath. In place of turning the
Plate directly over, so that the reverse side of the $20
ould meet the face side of it, the plate was carelessly
/ pended, with the result. that the reverse side of a $10
Bill met the $20. This would indicate that there is an-
_ Other bill in circulation with a $1o face and $20 reverse
Side.”
| Could Not Get Along Without “T. T.”
Dear Enrror: I have read Tip Top about three years,

Outside of the Merriwells, my | aenbahe are Kess,

oem | re Clancy, Buckhart, and Dale Sparkfair. Will we ever hear

ie & >
"Red Cross girleens.”

any more about Dale?

ms like the baseball stories best.

» 91 would like to exchange post cards with Tip Top

feaders, boys and girls,’ both American and foreign. -I
) will answer promptly. Yours truly, 1. L. TowNnsenn: .
Box 87, Madison, Me.

Yes, 3 will hear more of Dale.

Must Now Raise Our Own Canaty Birds.

Within a very short time there wilf be no canary birds
or ‘sale in bird stores in America. Every year there
ave been imported 1,500,000\ of these feathered song-
sters. All have come from the Hartz Mountains, in Ger-
many.
) This*year the war makes their importation impossible.
The men engaged in the: canary-bird business have gone
away to fight. The birds are being cared for by the
joimen aiid children until the war is over.
Raising canaries in this country may thus prove a
fofitable industry if the war in Europe ‘is not brought
) a speedy termination.

Praises “Red Cross Gitleens,”

tn. a. letter from Sergeant Cahill to his Foie de in
ristol, England, is the tribute of an Irish soldier to the
Cahill wrote:
“The Germans give us no rest night or day, and those
Of us who have come through it will never forget to
ur dying day what it is to have to fight here. The
Red Cross girleens, with their purty faces and their
Swé@et ways, are as good men as most of us, and better
than some of us. They are not supposed to venture into
® firing line at all, but they get there all the same,
devil the one of us durst turn them away.”

Express Horse Does Stunts.

Pigsideots of Georgetown, Del., are gradually realizing
lat in “Bob,” a horse used by an express company here,
ley have a local wonder w ell worth pointing out to their
asitors, . His latest performance adds another proof of his

arkable intelligence. Alvin Lacey, Bob’s. driver and

admirer, thinks every one should know more of it. Bob
was hitched in front of the express office waiting for the
four-o’clock afternoon train, when the sun crept over to
where he was standing. As is his usual custom, Bob
quietly moved over to the shady side of the street.

At twenty minutes before four o’clock, William Vick-
ers, the mail carrier, who carries mail between the post
office and the railroad station, came out of the post
office with the mail bags over his shoulder. Bob looked
him over, and then pulled over in front of the express
office and backed in, ready for the express that was to
go on the same train. Lacey asserts there is not an-
other horse in the State with so much sense.

Puts Ban on “Petrograd.”

The government press bureau at Constantinople has
forbidden the use of the word Petrograd, the new
authoritative name of St. Petersburg, and orders Turkish
newspapers to continue to call the Russian capital. St.
Petersburg.

Unique Stunts by Hen.

Mrs. Thomas Harkness, of Monrovia, Cal., has what
is believed to be the most fastidious hen on record. One
opportunity to see “Lumps,” as this her is called, go
through with some of her affected stunts, would con-
vince the most. skeptical that she holds a unique record
in the poultry world.

“Lumps” is five years old, and is of the Plymouth Rock
breed, weighing ten pounds. Her plumage is as sleek
and glossy as the: finest satin. Her’ most noteworthy
characteristic is that she will roost nowhere except in
the sleeping porch of her mistress’ home. Not only that,
but she roosts on top of ‘a dresser directly in front of °
a fine bevel French mirror, with a dainty ‘linen scarf
under hér’ feet.

An interesting feature of this habit is that the hen
mounts the dresser in the most careful manner, never
knocking anything off or displacing toilet articles.
Furthermore, as soon as she reaches her- roosting place,
she sits and admires: herself in the mirror for an hour
or more, or until dark comés or the lights are turned out.
During this time she keeps up an incessant chatter,
which is a puzzle to those who have seen her; whether
she is praising herself or thinks she is talking to an-
other hen, cannot be determined.

Another peculiar trait of Lumps is that she is a 236i
layer, but will not deposit an egg for anybody, or at
any. time, unless she has a pillow upon which to. lay her
precious donation to the world. When time comes for
her.to lay she seeks admittance to the house, goes to
an inside wardrobe where she found a silk-covered _pil-
low, and there leaves her egg. The performance over,
she goes to her mistress, issues a few guttural ex-
clamations as if to apprise her of her deed, then
haughtily marches out of the house before cackling a
single time.

Last summer Mrs. Harkness went with a party of
friends to spend the day in the cafion near her home,
leaving Lumps outdoors to look out for herself. When
time came for her to lay, Lumps inspected a box with a
rug in it which the mistress had provided on the back
porch, but showed her taste and wisdom by trying to
summon one of the neighbors to her rescue, At first
the neighbor, familiar with the hen’s accomplishments
and oddities, was at loss to understand what the hen

 
 

 

32 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

wanted, so, after trying to console and pet her, left in
disgust. She had reached home only a few minutes
when up walked the hen to the door, chattering away, try-
ing her best to talk. The neighbor opened the door,
Lumps walked in, looked about her sneeringly, sighted
a sofa pillow, and made for it, where she deposited a
large egg, chuckled her thanks to the woman, and
marched out, never uttering a cackle until she had reached
home.

Lumps is not partial to worms and bugs, but,
contrary, insists that her food be served on a
Grass and green clover are about the only things she
will eat outdoors. She won’t pick up scraps thrown on
the ground, but if the scraps be arranged temptingly
upon a platter, and no dirt is present, she will eat
ravenously.

Mrs. Harkness believes she has the greatest oddity
ever produced in the way of assumed peculiarities in
the hen line, and enjoys the amusing manners of Lumps
as much as any one else enjoys them.

to the
dish.

Automobiles Aid Russian Troops.

An order for the requisition of motor cars and motor
wagons, which has just been issued at Petrograd (St.
Petersburg), Russia, and in the other large cities, is ex-
pected to produce for the service of the Russian army
more than 1,000 powerful automobiles.

The Russian army has always placed much dependence
on its horses, having a vast number, but it has realized
the importance of the motor vehicle in warfare, and al-
ready it is much better equipped than‘ other nations sup-
pose. An illustration of the fact is the following, re-
lated by a Red Cross man who accompanied the Russian
forces into eastern Germany: -

“I was walking beside one of our carts. We could
hear heavy artillery fire as we went, when shouts from
our people behind warned us to get off the road. We
pulled onto the grass as there came thundering past,
bumping ‘from one rough place to another on the poor
road, and going at a sickening pace, a string of huge
motor cars crowded with infantrymen. They looked
like vehicles of the army establishment, all apparen‘ly
alike in size and pattern, and each carrying about thirty
men, packed like cigars in a box. '

“They were traveling like no motor wagon that I
ever $aw—certainly at not less than forty miles an hour.
The procession seemed endless. I didn’t count them, but
there were not less than a hundred, and perhaps a good
many more. That was General Rennenkampf reénforc-
ing his threatened flank.”

An agent for French aéroplanes ‘in Petrograd, who has
filled a tremendous government order; says that, where-
as private aviators in Russia are not numerous; her
military aviators, trained within the last two years, out-
number those of any other country. He adds that since
the war began the Russian aérodromes have been turning
them out by the half hundreds.

Twin Brothets in Preplexing Pranks,

The story of the three Quinns, in a recent issue of the
Blade, in which was related the amusing experiences
of two twin brothers and a cousin who strongly re-
sembled them, has its counterpart at Edwards, Miss., in
the daily life of Chester and Clarence Irvin, nineteen
years old, who, ever since they were babies, have been

the cause of confusion everywhere they went by their 4
absolute similarity. oa
The boys’ lives are marked by a series of incidents im
which one has played the part of the other without te®
knowledge of other people. They are exactly the same

height, exactly the same breadth, dress in the same wa

having the same expression and carriage; and, too, they
are related in such a way that when one suffers with 7
headache or other ailments, the other twin is similarly 3
affected. ae

In school when one of the boys had been iii
and was kept in during the noon hour, the guilty~ boy
would go oe to where his brother was sitting and Eee

“mixed up” with: the other twin. When the noon hour
came the teacher would not know which was which, and ~
no one else in the building would know but Chester and
Clarence; but, of course, Chester was generally the guilty §
twin, and would not own up that he was Chester. Clar-
ence would say he was Clarence, and was innocent, and
Chester would still contend that he was Clarence. The
teacher was unable, therefore, to administer the punish-_
ment, and the boys were laughed out of school.

The climax came the other day, when a show came to
town and Chester made an engagement to take a young
lady to the opera house that night. Clarence knew of ©
the engagement, and just for some fun thought he weld a
get ready before Chester and escort the girl. Yee ae

Chester got ready at last, and hurried around to ‘the.
young lady’s residence to find she and his brother had
gone. She was sorely perplexed when Chester arrived
later and told her that she had been tricked by his
brother. She had begun to love Chester, and was very;
anxious to know which was Chester, but there waag no
way in the world to know.

The boys have always played pranks like this, ae
they get a great deal of enjoyment out of it.

Editor Captures Big Crane. ;
7 fe Davis, editor of the Citizen, at Yellville, Ar
went fishing on White River a few days ago, and whet
he returned he brought back a crane that measures nin
feet from tip of one wing to-tip of the other. He shot
it from his boat, but only slightly wounded it. v
has it on exhibition at the Citizen office. He says’ ‘the
only trouble he has on his hands is to feed the big bir
It has the appetite of an ostrich, says Mr: Davis.

Nightshade Berries Prove Fatal.

Edward Kolling, two years old, of Chapman, Kan.,
died, and his older sister became seriously ill - shortly
after eating nightshade berries. The little girl will re-

cover.
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SOME OF THE

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87—Dick Merriwell’s Control.
38—Dick Merriwell’s Back Stop.
39—Dick Merriwell’s Masked Enemy.
0—Dick Merriwell’s Motor Car.
1—Dick Merriwell’s Hot Pursuit.
2—Pick Merriwell at Forest Lake.
3—Dick Merriwell in Court.
—Dick Merriwell’s Silence.
5—Dick Merriwell’s Dog.
6—Dick Merriwell’s Subterfuge.
7—Dick Merriwell’s Enigma.
8—Dick Merriwell Defeated.
9—Dick Merriwell’s ‘“Wing.”’
50—Dick Merriwell’s Sky Chase,
51—Dick Merriwell’s Pick-ups.
52—Dick Merriwell on the Rocking R.
58—Dick Merriwell’s Penetration.
54—Dick Merriwell’s Intuition.
55—Dick Merriwell’s Vantage.
56—Dick Merriwell’s Advice.
57—Dick Merriwell’s Rescue.
58—Dick Merriwell, American.
59—Dick Merriwell’s Understanding.

4

é

4
4
4s
4:
4
4
4
4
4
4

t
”
.
:

60—Dick Merriwell, Tutor.

61—Dick Merriwell’s Quandary.
62—Dick Merriwell on the Boards,
63—Dick Merriwell, Peacemaker.
64—Frank Merriwell’s Sway.
65—Frank Merriwell’s Comprehension.
66—Frank Merriwell’s Young Acrobat.
67—Frank Merriwell’s Tact.

68—Frank Merriwell’s Unknown.

69—F rank Merriwell’s Acuteness,

70O—FI rank Merriwell’s Young Canadian,
71i—Frank Merriwell’s Coward.
72—Fragk Merriwell’s Perplexity.
73—Fvank Merriwell’s Intervention.
74—FPank Merriwell’s Daring Deed.
5—Frank Merriwell’s Succor.
76—Frank Merriwell’s Wit.
77—Frank Merriwell’s Loyalty.
ae rank Merriwell’s Bold Play.
9

0

1

2

‘
‘
‘

—Frank Merriwell’s Insight.
8 —Frank Merriwell’s Guile.
81—F rank Merriwell’s Campaign.
82—Frank Merriwell in National
Forest.

83—F rank 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 Disap-

pearance.

788—Dick Merriwell’s Detective Work.
789—Dick Merriwell’s Proof.
790—Dick Merriwell’s Brain Work.
791—Dick Merriwell’s nee Case.

792—Dick Merriwell, Navigator.
79: 3—Dick Merriwell's Good F ellowship.
794—Dick Merriwell’s Fun.
795—Dick Merriwell’s Commencement.
796—Dick Merriwell at Montauk Point.
797—Dick Merriwell, Mediator.
798—Dick Merriwell’s Decision.
799—Dick Merriwell on the Great Lakes,
800—Dick Merriwell Caught Napping.
801—Dick Merriwell in the Copper Coun-

try.
802—Dick Merriwell Strapped.
803—Dick Merriwell’s Coolness.
804—Dick Merriwell’s Reliance.
805—Dick Merriwell’s College Mate.
806—Dick Merriwell’s Young Pitcher.
807—Dick Merriwell’s Prodding.
80S8S—F rank Merriwell’s Boy.
809—F rank Merriwell’s Interference,
810—Frank Merriwell’s Young Warriors.
811—F rank Merriwell’s Appraisal.
812—F rank Merriwell’s Forgiveness.
813—Frank Merriwell’s Lads.
814—Frank Merriwell’s Young Aviators,
815—F rank Merriwell’s Hot-head.
816—Dick Merriwell, Diplomat.
817—Dick Merriwell in Panama.
818—Dick Merriwell’s Perseverance.
819—Dick Merriwell Triumphant.
820—Dick Merriwell’s Betrayal.

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your news dealer, they can be obtained direct from this office.

821—Dick Merriwell, Revolutionist.
822—Dick Merriwell’s Fortitude.
si 3—Dick Merriwell’s Undoing.
824—Dick Merriwell, Universal Coach.
82 25—Dick Merriwell’s Snare.
826—Dick Merriwell’s Star Pupil.
827—Dick Merriwell’s Astuteness.
828—Dick Merriwell’s Responsibility.
829—Dick Merriwell’s Plan.
830—Dick Merriwell’s Warning.
831—Dick Merriwell’s Counsel.
833—Dick Merriwell’s Marksmen.
334—Dick Merriwell’s Enthusiasm.
< Merriwell’s Solution.
336—Dick Merriwell’s Foreign Foe.
38—Dick Merriwell’s Battle for the Blue.
839—Dick Merriwell’s Evidence.
840—Dick Merriwell’s Device.
841—Dick Merriwell’s Princeton
nents.

842—Dick Merriwell’s Sixth Sense.
843 < Merriwell’s Strange Clew.
844—Dick Merriwell Comes Back.
845—Dick Merriwell’s Heroic Crew.
846—Dick Merriwell Looks Ahead.

Oppo-

NEW SERIES.
New Tip Top Weekly

1-—Frank Merriwell, Jr.

29—Frank Merriwell, Jr., in the Box.
8—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Struggle.
4—TI'rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Skill.

‘rank Merriwell, Jr., in Idaho.
6—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Close Shave.
7—Frank Merriwell, Jr., on Waiting
ders.

8—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Danger.
9—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Relay

thon.
10—Frank Merriwell, Jr.,
1—F1 Golden Trail.

Ranch,
rank Merriwell, Jr.’s,
2—F rank Merriwell, eae Competitor.
3—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Guidance.
4—FIrank Merriwell, Tr’s. Scrimmage.
5—Frank Merriwell, Jr., Misjudged.
6—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Star Play.
17—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Blind Chase,
18—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Discretion.
19—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Substitute,
20—F rank Merriwell, Jr., Justified.
21—F rank Merriwell, Jr., Incog.
22—F rank Merriwell, Jr., Meets the Issue.
95 3 rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Xmas Eve.
24—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Fearless Risk.
25—F rank Merriwell, Jr., on Skis.
26—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Ice-boat Chase.
27—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Ambushed
Foes.
28—Frank Merriwell, Jr., and the Totem.
29—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Hockey Game.
80—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Clew.
381—F rank Merriwell, rah Adversary.
382—lI rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Timely Aid.
83—Frank Merriwell, Jr. ‘in the Desert.
é < Merriwell, : r.’s, Grueling Test.
$5—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Special Mission
86—F rank Merriwell, Se. 8s, Red Bowman.
87—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Task.
88—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Cross-Country
Race.
89—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’
40—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Umpire.
41—I rank Merriwell, Jr., Sidetracked.
42—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s
43—Frank Merriwell, ¢ 2
44—Frank Merriwell, J
45—F rank Merriwell, Tr i
46—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s,
47—F rank Merriwell, ot s,
48—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s,
49—F rank Merriwell, Tr. s,
50—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s,
ture.

Or-

Mara-

at the Bar Z

1
|
1:
1
|
|

s, Four Miles.

, Teamwork.

8, Step-Over.

. in Monterey.
Athletes.

Outfielder.

“Tundred.”

Hobo Twirler.

Canceled Game.
Weird Adven-

51—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Double Header
One Merriwell, Jr.’s, Peck of Trou?”
ie,
rank Merriwell, Jr.,
Doctor.

54—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Sportsmanship.

55—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Ten-Innings,

56—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Ordeal.

57—F rank Merriwell, Jr., on the Wing.

58—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Cross-Fire.”

59—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Lost Deam-
mate,

60—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Daring Plight.

61—F rank Merriwell, Jr., at Fardale,

62—Frank Merriwell, Jr., Plebe.

63—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Quarter-Back.

(4—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Touchdown,

65—lI*rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Night Off.

66—Frank Merriwell, Jr., and the Little
Black Box.

67—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’

68—Irank Merriwell, Jr.’
emy. ’

69—F rank Merriwell, Jr., and the “Spell.”

70—Irank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Gridiron
Honors.

71—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Winning Run.

72—F rank Merriwell, Jv.’s, Jujutsu.

73—I rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Christmas Va-)
cation.

74—Frank Merriwell, Jr.,

Wolves.

5—Frank Merriwell, Jr., on the Border.

6—F rank Merriwe ll, Jr.’s, Desert Race.

7—Owen Clancy’s Run of uvek.

78—Owen C lancy’s Square Deal, ’

79—Owen Clancy’ 's Hardest Fight.

so —Owen Clancy’s Ride for Fortune,

81—Owen Clancy's Makeshift.

82—Owen Clancy and the Black Pearls,

83—Owen Clancy and the Sky Pilots)

S4—Owen Clancy and the Air Piratt

&85—Owen Clancy’s Peril.

&6—Owen Clancy's Partner.

55—F

and the Spook

s, Classmates.
s, Repentant En- -

and the Nine

‘
~-
‘
‘
‘

S8S—Owen Clancy’s Double Tre
&89—Owen Clancy’s Back Fir@®
90—Owen Clancy and the “C
91—Owen Clancy’s “Diamond®
92—Owen Clancy and the C a
93—Owen Clancy Among the 1
94—Owen C lancy’ sc lean- Up. ae
95—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’ 's, Pek
96—Frank Merriwell, ‘ 's
97—Frank Merriwell,

98—The Merriwell Compal f
99—Frank Merriwell’s First
100—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s,

102—Dick Merriwell’s Toran
103—Dick Merriwell Tricked,
104—F rank Merriwell, Jr.,
Fire,
105—Frank Merriwell, Jr.,
Stampede. ;
106—Merriwell vs. Merriwell.
107—Dick Merriwell and the
108—Dick Merriwell Mystified)
109—Dick Merriwell’s Hazard
110—F rank Merriwell, Jr.,
boy Carnival.
1—Frank Merriwell’s Rivet
°F rank Merriwell Against)
3—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s,
zle.
14—F rank Merriwell,
Bonnet Mine,
Dated October
‘ank Merriwell,
Dated October
rank Merriwell, Jr.’
Dated October o4th.
117—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’
tanglement. . #
Dated October 31st, 1914
rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Riddlé.

115—F
116—F

ea
s, India

118—Fr

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