5

Lae

FIVE C

a

Mats

 

 

E

‘

THINGS UP

on WHOOPING

ay,

R.

K ROVE

hd American Rarkew

IN

 

 

 

 

ene = Seas @ EEDA ae Ene Be RS

FO

¥

aN

 

7

S

Be
Chon eas

a
Fac

oe
aS

Rees

Peirce err
RE TON coc emneey r
Saeeae
eS

Se oe
2? na he Sasadchemephnaee

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

a)

 

 

 

 

Link

Rola

** Dac

Profe:

 
 

Pranks 2 Adventures of the American Jack Harkaway

  

 

£
D

 

The Young Rover Library. Issued Weekly. By Subscription $2.50 per year. Published by STREET & SMITH, 79-8 Seventh Avenue, N.Y. Entered
according to Act of Congress in the year 1905, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C.

 

 

 

 

  

Keo Koko, a wily old Jap, who by some strange hocus pocus seems

No. 50. %

NEW YORK, September a, 1905.

Price Five Cents.

 

INK ROVER’S TRIUMPH;

OR,

Whooping Things Up Along the Road.

 

By GALE RICHARDS.

 

SDIDISIAIRNIS IF SAID VS IB IBIS IB SB SIDID SDSDIOO

CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY.

Link Rover, the black sheep of the family, a young American
scapegrace, sent to an English school for discipline, but
launched upon the world through a series of remarkable ad-
ventures—a lad whose leading characteristics are a stout heart
and a keen scent for a roaring frolic.

Roland Frogmore, otherwise ‘“‘Froggie” for short, a very fat speci-
men of the English schoolboy, an ardent admirer of Link’s,
and usually concerned in the latter’s numerous larks.

‘“‘Daddy’’ Spellmier, a quaint, withered-up specimen, a relative of
Link’s, who is very fond of relating thrilling adventures sup-
posed to have befallen him long years ago, and who in his en-
thusiasm does not hesitate to stretch the truth most fearfully.

Professor Snodgrass, once the senior master at Dr. Birch’s school,
who early became the pet butt of Link’s evil propensity for
tidiculous situations, and who has since concluded to see
something of the world.

Padré Diablo, a ferocious Spanish Carlist, who is also a mountain
smugeler and bandit+through a train of accidents Link mana-
ges to arouse his bitter hatred, and he plots the downfall of
the adventurous Yankee lad.

‘‘Jonsey,’’ a stuttering lad whom Snodgrass has in charge, and who
once went to school with Link at Dr. Birch’s Academy across
the sea.

Mr. Griffin Lambert, an American mining engineer, down in Mexico
on particular business.

‘to have obtained possession of the legacy which Link has been
chasing over half the world; and who shows no disposition to
give it up.

Dolly, Link’s best girl, whom he knew at school in old England,
and who has hada shate in many of his strange adventures
as his well asuproarous larks. .

OPAL ALAAMKARAARARABAAR

 

©

CHAPTER: I.
TROUBLE IN NUMBER EIGHT.

The sunlight of a new day, filtering in through two
sets of half-open lattice work windows, of the prim bed-
room known as Number Eight, at the Hotel Iturbide,
city of Mexico, made fantastic patches upon the faded
green carpet.

Indistinct sounds could be heard from the street; pass-
ing carts, early morning hucksters, venders with their
miscellaneous wares, and the occasional clang of a real

power car, on its first journey to the suburban resorts.

Daddy Spellmier roiled over with a sigh of supreme
content.

He mashed his hair pillow into a neat knot and ad-
justed it properly for every angle of his scrawny neck;
then he closed his eyes and smacked his lips, for very
joy at being alive, with a privilege of sweet slumber.

The last lap of a good night’s rest can’t be beaten.

The ten or twelve hours previous to it may be all

  
 

ae oe THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY.

 

very well in their way, but those final twenty winks are
as the balm to the weary traveler.

Spellmier had no peace equal to his hecal nap, after
that first awakening.

If he didn’t drowse for a few ceca he was sure to
be cross all day.

This was one of his childish faults.

“Those dratted boys are not stirring yet,’ he mum-
bled sleepily to himself. “I’ll have another doze boron
they awaken. Just think of the long trip ahead of us.’

The second following, his peculiar snorting snore
awakened every echo of the suit.

“Cut-cut-cu-taw-cut.”

It was the unmistakable salute of a rooster.

Spellmier tried to arouse himself from his stupor of
sleep, but failing, sank still deeper into the luxurious
splendor of his hair pillow and resigned himself to obliv-
ion, chick or no chick.

Rattle—scratch—rattle !

Something was making a deal of fuss under the bed.

There was a second outburst of cutthroat sound as
the rooster let forth a call that was vibrant with the full
thrill of a barnyard solo at dawn.

Fortunately, this was no strprise to the old man.

He knew the why and the wherefore. -

it did not follow that. this made it any the more agree-
able. Daddy had sneaked a thoroughbred gamecock, of
the Mexican fighting variety, into his room, after the
others had gone to bed.

This was executed with a guilty conscience.

During Spellmier’s four days in Mexico City, he had
found himself gradually. seduced by the charm of
genuine cockfighting. Whenever he could, he had man-
aged to slip away from his companions and watch those
energetic street performances, until the victor drove his
last spur, and the drabbled birds were tossed into a bag.

Once he had been caught.

“Tam surprised at you, Mr. Spellmier,’”’ the more se-
date and circumspect Prof. Snodgrass had. declared,
frowning visibly, “to think that a man of your age should
encourage, by his presence, such monstrous exhibitions
of barbarity.. A cockfight, sir, is as bad as.a bullfight.
There is just as much inhuman cruelty—it is a bullfight
on a small scale, and yet I] heard you say, after our ex-
perience out at the ring the other day, that you thought
the episode most distracting.”

This was said in the professor’s most embarrassing
manner,

Snodgrass could be impressive when he desired.

Perhaps it was because of his size and his eyeglasses

From every individual member of his party, Daddy had
received a little lecture, bearing up bravely the while.

Whatever Spellmier’s thoughts were on the subject, he

did not express them volubly enough to warrant a return

fire, and the matter cooled down.

g

It didn’t leave the fire, however.

Daddy knew what he liked.
When he had tired of the Iturbide, with tis Fle of

emperors, and its every room rampant with the official

" legends of a past page of history ; when he had mastered

the heart secrets of the fierce war god, Huitziilopochtli,
grinning perpetually before the sacrificial stone, where
petty offenders had once been burnt to a crisp; when the
famous Jockey Club had exhausted its attractions, and
San Francisco Street grew dull with the hum of material
things, it was Daddy’s joy to quietly slide down some nar-
row alley, bend over with the peons and the ° “cheap peo-
ple,” and there palpitate to every trick of the cockfight.

It was wrong of him to do it, of course—wrong to
crouch there, a Mexican in spirit, only lacking the serape,
and watch those slim birds jab each other until life was
extinct.

This gigantic interest went much further.

Daddy had been thrown in contact with several nice
Mexican gents, who wanted him to go into the business,
and be a sport. Lamentable though it was, Daddy had
actually purchased a blooded fowl.

Stealthily, he had slipped up the rear steps of the hotel
that afternoon, believing that he was master of his own
little escapade, and tumbled off to sleep, thrilled by the
hope of battle to be won on the morrow, when he was to
fight his new possession against another bitter enemy.

It might be whispered that Spellmier would put up a
few pennies on the result.

He was going for it, hot and heavy.

Now, all this digression from the path of the pious was
sure to receive its just rebuke, if not in one way, then
in another.

Had there been any of his friends present to witness *

Daddy’s tender solicitude for “Billy,” his fighting cock,
there would have been a well-merited snicker.

Spellmier would not risk that fowl in the courtyard of
the hotel, or with any of the doubtful attendants. No,
sir; it didn’t seem exactly proper, but he resolved to
let Billy share his room with him until the next day.
With this plan arranged, he had tied one of the bird’s legs
with a string, wrapped it around the last leg of the
bed, spread out newspapers and gruel, and trusted to
fate that there would be no crowing.

Before resigning himself to slumber, the old man peeped
over the edge of the bed.

Billy was huddled all up in a frowsy bundle, not at all
worried over his new quarters, with a saucy little head
tucked under one wing.

“TIsn’t he cute?” Daddy muttered, with a satisfied
chuckle. Then he went to sleep.

Now it was early morn.

Was there to be a catastrophe?

It would certainly, positively, painfully seem so.
From beneath the bed came a series of disconsolate

 

  
 

   
    
 

 

 

 

      

 

  
 

end * ~ a Zs
rey a ee eee “

eo

SN nenmen! ee en] ns
See Te oe gas EES

ee

 

 
 

_ is certainly the limit.

noises. Billy scratched the papers, fluffed his feathers
and raised an awful rumpus, for a reason that must have
been definite.

“Shoo!”

Daddy flaunted his hand over the side of the bed.

He was still in a dozey condition.

Billy was not properly impressed.

He was so much excited over something that he kicked
up an awful clatter, and Daddy was fearful lest his
friends, or some one in the vicinity, should accuse him
of turning the Iturbide into a chicken yard.

“Ah, shut up, bum-badger you!” he grunted.

“Cut-eut-ca-taw-cut!” Billy called.

Spellmier yanked off a yard or two of covering, with
the avowed intention of smothering the bird if he did
not conform more satisfactorily to the rules and regula-
tions of the establishment.

Link, and Frogmore, and Snodgrass, and Jonsey were
all within a radius of thirty feet, and they could not long
sleep with this remarkable bedroom song.

Billy was tramping around under the bed at a hair-
raising rate of speed.

If sounds had anything to do with it, Daddy just knew
that Billy was biting the slats out of the bottom of the
bed, and attacking the mattress with his sharp, bill.

It was really cone.

“Saw my slats,” Spellmier Caw frowning; “this
He has a voice like a basket of
scrap iron. Shut up—you blooming music box.”

“Vrrr-cut-cut-ca-taw-cut !”

Billy was in good trim.

Radical methods must be employed, and that without
the loss of a moment’s time. With his hand burdened
with quilts, for nights in Mexico are inclined to be chilly,
Spellmier bent out over the edge of the bed, to see what
it was all about.

There was a surprise awaiting him.

Billy was squared off in a fighting mood.

He was just at the edge of the board, his head down,
his red collar sizzling around his neck, his feet planted
squarely to meet the onslaught of a possible foe.

“By jumping catfish!”

Spellmier could not believe his eyes at first.

It was evident that Billy had been dreaming, and
awakening from some collection of misunderstandings
with his grub, had wanted to start the day right, by wip-
ing up the earth with a nightmare.

“The contwisted fool thinks he sees something,” Daddy
exclaimed; “he certainly does—wow—look at him—wait
—hold on there, old man.”

With a sweeping spring, Billy sprang into the air, chat-
tering excitedly to himself all the while.

Je backed, jumped again, threw his head down, did
some more chattering, and was off under the bed, to the
wall, like a streak, every feather on end.

   

THE YOUNG ROVER. LIBRARY.

    
       

This was too much for Daddy.

He strained his neck to get a full view.

Yes; it was there, to be sure.

“By the bumps of Bombay, I’ve got ’em!”

Daddy landed with a bang upon the floor, having lost
his balance, the quilts and sheets and pillows all on top
of him in a mad mixture of hotel linen.

If there had been no optical illusion, he had seen a
second fighting cock plump against the wall, under the
bed!

CHAPTER IT.
BIBDS OF A FEATHER.

“T ain’t seeing things just ke-rect,’ thought Daddy
Spellmier, pulling off the quilts and rubbing his eyes;
“some of those boys have put a mirror under the bed, and
Billy Boy sees his reflection in it.”

The old man knew that he had brought only one bird
to that room.

By no possible chance could there -have been two in the)
sack. :

This was only another little mystery.

Collecting himself as best he could, he covered his bare
shins with his gown and had another long look. Billy
had squared off with the gloves on, mum as an oyster, but
bristly enough to play the part of a porcupine in a side
show.

Daddy knew that his eyes were all right.

A bright red cock flustered around, with a flank move-
ment, and gave Billy to understand that he could not
have his own way. ‘There were all kinds of pedigrees
and he would be compelled to aoe his before they left
that room.

“Shoo—shoo !”

Spellmier put his hands up to his mouth.

The fowls were so preoccupied that they did not even
recognize his authority to interfere with their own per-
sonal difficulties. When two game birds meet each other
in an open field, there is almost always sure to be some-
thing doing.

Daddy had purchased the real thing in Billy.

He was small and spotted, but he knew his business.
He had been a champion of the streets, through a dozen
fierce fights, and he would not allow any old, red-headed,
carmine-colored, bandy-legged wretch of a rooster to
show him the cards.

It was hilarious.

“Saw my slats, 1 wonder how the other fellow got in,”
blustered Daddy, as he scratched his head and blinked.

Billy did a double shuffle, scratched out with his hind
feet and landed on top of his enemy with the impetuous
intensity of a ton of brick. Papers rattled, great hunks
of gruel flew into the air, and Daddy jumped for the
safety of his bed, carrying the coverlets with him,

 
THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY.

It was not safe on the floor. .

The birds did not have steel spurs, but they were mighty
careless of their stunts, and Daddy’s shanks would not
have been improved by red scratches.

He knew this.

Every second of this time he was trying to rake up
an excuse for the sudden and very remarkable appearance
of that red fowl.

Be the conditions what they might, here was the real
thing in a cockfight, and Dad’s sporting blood was at
white heat. If the birds would only come out where he
could watch them like a gentleman. As it was, he was
compelled to bend far out over the bed and stretch his
neck until the rubber in it creaked.

It was while thus engaged that Billy was repulsed.

He flopped forcibly back and came in collision with the
old man’s anxious face. "

When Spellmier. sat back in bed, he was spitting
feathers.

Billy recovered from his upper cut and sidled around
to the right of his foe. me

Amid a wild tangle of noises, they came together for
a fresh strangle hold, and Daddy gripped the edge of
the bed, for fear that they would tear the bottom out of
things.

From his own standpoint, it was like being on the roof
of a theater while the show was in progress. He could
hear the songs and the united: chorus and the stage busi-
ness in general, but there was no possibility of catching a
bird’s-eye view of it from where he sat. ,

“T’ve just got to see it,’ he muttered, planking both
bare feet out over the edge of the bed,

It was not an opportune moment.

Billy and his opponent came flashing out almost be-
neath him, and Daddy’s feet twinkled like stars as he
tried to get them under cover. He felt,’at the time, as
if he had twenty feet and they were all paralyzed.

Not until he was tucked nicely under three thicknesses >

of blankets did he deign to look upon the fight with
proper consideration.

There was good and plenty to see.

Billy had the making of a comedian in him.

The nearest thing to his cock-a-doodle highness was
a rocking-chair, and up he pounced upon it, crouching
there, a monarch for sure, looking down upon the battle-
field and his red foe with angry orbs.

“Gee, the little scamp is all right, all right,” muttered
Spellmier, all care as to speech restrictions cut out, in
his enthusiasm. “I just know, bum-badger it, that Lin-
coln himself would enjoy this if he could see it.”

Never fear, Daddy, Link seldom misses much.

At the far end of the room was a dark closet.

Daddy did not carry a superabundance of clothing, and
he had never had occasion to open it. He only knew

that the closet was deep and dark, and that tats might
take to it with very plausible! kindness. ble) ee
This door was just open a crack.
Unseen by Spellmier, with Billy on his rocking-chair
perch, the red fowl indignantly eying him from the floor,
and bedclothes scattered to the four quarters of the globe,

a single, slim specimen of a rooster pranced out from

the closet.

He was not a thoroughbred.

He had a scrawny neck, molting coat, leaned eyes
and .big feet. .As he strode into the sunlight he winked
at it, caught his breath and stumbled over himself.

There was every evidence of rude and unexpected
awakening.

He saw his two brothers, more or less excited, but it
did not annoy him in the least. With domesticated non-
chalance, he trotted over to the window, shook himself,
reached out one leg, as an excuse, or a yawn, and, obvi-
ously disconcerted because there was no dirt in which to
play, pecked at a marigold in the design of the carpet.

“Wallopin’ muskets!’ wheezed Daddy Spellmier,
straightening himself in bed, and watching this new ar-
rival with a wonderment that was more than common-
place. ‘What are we running here, an incubator? These
here fellers are cropping up same as if I had been sleeping
on a nest of eggs. Saw my slats!” |

He had not witnessed the new arrival’s entrance—did
not know that the little closet at the end of the room was
productive of results that would revolutionize hotel sys-
tems, and make his present apartments look like a breezy
day on a stock farm.

Billy had not been idle.

He wanted to uphold the glory that had been repre-
sented when he was sold to Daddy, and, balancing himself
on one leg, preparatory to a grand finale in the way of
fighting, he sprang into space and did things to the red
cock that were worth chronicling in history.

Spellmier shivered.

He drew the covers well up around his neck.

. He sat there, struck dumb by what seemed a miracle.

This was not to be the ‘last page of his early morning
astonishment.

The closet door creaked.

_ A fat old hen staggered out, as if she-had been pushed,
gathered herself well together, cocked her head over on
one side and had a general squint at the surroundings.

There is not much grain or Co in a well- organized
hotel room.

She learned this to her ae fort, nc took steps to
get out, if such a thing was at all possible.

Clucking and calling and muttering dire threats in a
thoroughly rural tone of voice, shé’ went skipping, hap-
hazard, across the carpet, and fluttered upon the foot of
the bed.

Over went the wise head to one side.

 
 

   

The little shoe-button eye was wondering what on
earth that thing was, popping above the pillows and
blankets.

“Go ’way—git—skeedaddle!” bellowed Daddy, giving
the covers a saucy flirt.

In the dire stress of these most denerbnae circum-
stances, Mr. Spellmier did not stop to analyze the affair—
did not attempt to take up a reason for his early morning
callers, or how they had managed to get in his little front
bedroom.

One line of thought alone was possible.

He found it difficult to think at all.

Through the half-open closet»door a stream of bedrag-
gled fowls were wendihg their way—brown ones and
black ones, faded ones and brilliant, sickly and saucy, the
funniest bunch of animated feathers an outsider could
hope to witness.

Their actions were quite as entertaining as a circus.

There was a pretensious old hen, with drooping comb
and ruffled coat, waddling into Daddy’s open dress suit,
in search of the good things of life. In her wanderings
she overturned a cup of white bone collar and cuff but-
tons, much. to her wild satisfaction, for, laboring under
the impression that they composed a new species of corn,
she gobbled them down, one by one, eagerly trailed around
the dress-suit case by male and female companions, who
wanted breakfast just as much as she did. |

“Hey, there, cut it out!” wailed Daddy, flaunting his
hands in the air. “You hens are fixing yourselves up for
a nice case of pretty appendicitis. Let those gold-dinged
collar buttons alone. Oh-o-o—that rooster swallowed my
best gold stud.”

From one end of the room to ats far extremity busy

hens were scratching, cackling, clucking, strutting and:

fluffing ; gamecocks were selecting partners for the first
fighting quadrille, lesser lights pecked at imaginary bugs
under curtains and clothes. Billy, still triumphant atop
the rocker, having again selected it as his individual
throne, filled the air with prolonged calls of challenge.
“Well, bum-badger my slats,” Spellmier chirped, fully
awake to what was growing to be a serious tragedy,
“either I’m growing crazy or it rained chickens during
the night. Help! help! Get away from that collar box
—skip—skeedaddle! Help! I say, if they all start ight-
ing at once, there won't be enough left of me to chink
a window crack. This is—t-e-r-r-i-b-l-e!”
His'very worst fears were to be fully realized.

een ere

CHAPTER Ut
THE SCARLET STRIP,

Had Daddy taken the precaution, or had the foresight,
to open wide the door of the little closet, he would have
there discovered the partial source of his discomiort.
Chickens do not happen accidentally, and when ‘one

  

THE YOUNG ROVER. LEBRARY,

day.

        

5
followed another through the crack; into the apartment, it
was fair to guess that Daddy was the victim of a joke of
monstrous proportions.

He was.

Pull back that cloud and yon find a Link Rover silver
lining.

The party had taken rooms on the third floor of the
Iturbide, and these rooms were all connected with each
other, in a semicircular court that made it very home-
like indeed.

Each had his own little apartment, if you please.

Link’s room adjoined that of, Daddy, but there was no
connecting door. Rover had found one possible means
of entering the place, and this was by the closet. There
was a small trap opening from Link’s little den into the
closet, and the very prompt discovery placed Link in a
position to teach Daddy his much-needed lesson on cock-.
fighting.

You can make up your mind that the boy was wise
to Daddy’s sneak-thief actions, the spiriting of Billy into
the room, and the ill- aie combat billed for the next

Frogmore and Jonsey ‘and the professor were also ad-
vised, as soon as the disgraceful facts became known.

“T think I can cure the old reprobate,’ Link warbled,
as he called the gang into his room the night before,
“Just stick by me and watch proceedings.”

There was considerable preliminary work at that.

Link’s business blocks were piled into his own room,
and they consisted of one very elegant gamecock, red
of color, and a small crate of the worst old chickens he
could get.

This had not been accomplished without the greatest
difficulty. It had meant the expenditure of a handful
of reals, judiciously placed, and the combined fellowship
of several servants, who saw that the chickens were
bought, properly crated, and taken to Link’s room under
cover.

At about the hour scheduled for Daddy to take his
second nap, Link crept through the trap into the closet,
dragging his crate with him.

The game bird had been the first to be shot out.

He crossed the room and went exploring under Daddy’s
bed, with results that have been fully described.

When the crucial moment arrived, Rover dragged the
chickadees out in succession, and allowed them the free
privilege of Daddy’s sun-swept apartment.

Was this all going to waste, this rich extravaganza of
fun?

Well, hardly.

Daddy’s room had two doors opening into the hall.

They both had transoms.

a

purpose, of ancien

mem pers of Tt 44%

Stepladders were provided for the

the remaining 1

wooet

es
HS.

origin, and upon these

eavesdropping crowd took their stations.
THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY.

Jonsey took the transom to the right. Professor and
Roland Frogmore were spraddled over the stronger lad-
der, to the left, and that picturesque comedy in progress,
as seen through the dusty transom, was enough to war-
rant any extra pains, when it came to seats.

Link himself, quartered in the closet, could have a
nearer and more satisfactory view.

To say that matters were progressing with boisterous
rapidity would be doing an injustice, not only to Rover’s
strenuous preparations, but to the speedy string of funny
stunts at the expense of howling Daddy Spellmier.
With Billy’s initial “legp for life’ from the rocking-
chair, to combat with his fed-headed rival, every chicken
in the room, and there were at least twenty, flew off their
perches simultaneously. Such a cackling and cluttering,
such a sce and kicking, such a peaes of wings,
‘as they played “pussy wants a corner,’
got there.

* and never quite

Three old hens and a rooster swung upward and came
down on the bed and on Spellmier.

He was not prepared for it.

With the certain knowledge that one long-legged repro-
bate had wedged himself under the covers and would
soon be progressing to where the clothes were short on
his anatomy, Daddy drew himself up like a steam crane,
shouted in desperate agony, and lurched out of bed, pull-
ing everything but the slats from the affair.

This was heaping coals on a red-hot fire.

Billy and his enemy were kicking the stuffing out of
each other.

Mad hens were gyrating fan post to pillar.

Well-worn and moth-eaten Mexican roosters, with sus-
picious plumage, long since passed into bedraggled ugli-
ness, scattered crockery, pitcher, curtains a chairs, in
their wild flight around the room.

Daddy was in the very midst of this.
He stood there, in a crouching ‘position, doing his best

to shield his ankles with his short pajamas, and not mak-
ing a success of it.

“Saw my slats!” moaned the distressed perverter of

truth, “Won't somebody come and get me, I’m lost—
help! help! kill ’em!”

Around and around he danced.

Once he was almost upon a chair when it tilted with
him and he went squashing down upon a little nest of
clucking hens.

The air was full of fuss and fatiore:

Ten blocks, around the town, that rumpus would cer-
tainly be heard. ‘ ;

“It’s the jolliest, blooming lark I ever saw,’ Pee
tittered.

He was on the very tiptop of the ramshackle ladder,
and Prof. Saodgrass, tall enough. to see from a lower
step, giggled and snickered with a frank enjoyment that

was most unusual of him. ea was ae oe
in this mad-tangle. le

“S-SSS-Spellmier c-can't s-s-ss-say he w-was n- never
hen-pecked n-n-now!” stammered Leonidas Jones, just
across the way, looking through the second transom,

Although these selfsame individuals had been subjected
more than once to Link Rover’s tactful jollity, they were
sporty enough to enjoy a rollicking good one on the “other
fellow.” Daddy Spellmier, always more or less funny,
in disguise or no, tiked out in his gown and buzzed by
hens and roosters, was an incident that was sure to arouse
laughter any future time it came back to memory. :

Then, too, was Link not teaching a moral lesson?

Would Daddy Spellmier not learn that he had slipped
from the regulation line of a real moral code, to descend
to cockfighting, and was there not hope that this night-
mare would vividly impress itself upon his faculties?

They all thought so.

“T really guess Mr. Spellmier thinks he is asleep,” com-
mented the professor, shaking with laughter. “Lincoln
Rover is a very remarkable young, gentleman, and, while
I do not commend many of his larks, this one seems well
merited.”

The ladder was creaking beneath the combined weight.

Frogmore was enough, when it came to burdens, but
when Prof. Snodgrass ponderously tacked after the list,
there were chances of a catastrophe.

This we shall let pass for the present.
How about poor Daddy in the midst of his fowls?

He regretted with all his heart that he had been per-
suaded by circumstances to leave the sweet comfort and
protection of his downy*couch. He could not return to it.

Impossible; the way was cut off by energetic birds,
rampant for trouble if they could find it.

The more violent grew Spellmier’s protests, the more
excited became his visitors. They had stopped eating
collar buttons, and were making strenuous efforts to dig
up certain floral decorations that were woven into the
brilliant carpet.

“Isn't D-D-Da-Daddy in the p-prop-prop-proper s-set
n-now, though?” observed Jonsey, smiling through the
transom.

Frog and the professor had been having an unforeseen
calamity.

To begin with, Roland, away up there at the top of
the ladder, was not as careful as he might have been. It
was one of those two-pronged affairs, with a shelf ‘top,
and while Frog sat on this his swaying feet dangled dan-
gerously near his companion’s face.

That was when the professor had twisted to get in a
different position.

Froggie was enjoying the later episodes with a good
cheer that was. positively noisy. He forgot that there

_ were other lodgers in the hotel, and that even Daddy

 
Oe eM,

OD

 

  
 

  

Spellmier would get onto that parquette audience if he

did not restrain himself,

There was no use to try.

When Froggie liked a thing, he alee cee it
to such an extent that it was essential to his health that
he should laugh. There was so much fat on him that
when he spouted out those extra guffaws there was a
combination storm and waterspout effect that had the
illustrated lecture bureaus easily distanced.

Down flopped the fat lad’s big shoe.

Ker-slop!

A real novelist would describe that sound as a
sickening thud.”

“Oh—ouch !”

Prof, Snodgrass had received a ae on the head
that made him think of his younger days in astronomy,
and the unseen realms of space, where starry objects
floated on and on, forever.

_It was the starting point of trouble—the first flash of
the fuse that ran to the powder magazine. Prof. Snod-
grass did some kicking on his own score. This was done
while he was attempting to dig Frogmore’s heel out of
his eye.

The affair was no longer a joke.

It had lost its natural snap, except that vicious shoe

“dull,

stab, delivered by Roland.

One of Snod’s own heels hit the slim upright that held
the ladder in place.

Link Rover happened in the hall just as it was proper
for him to be there. It was not up to Link to miss a
good time.

His friends were unintentionally supplying some humor.
with which he had nothing at all to do.

Crash—clatter—bang !

Down the ladder tumbled with all its force.

It was as explosive as a carpenter force at work on a
bridge. Were shingles being ripped off, and boards
lugged out by their roots? When Link squinted through
the dust he saw-the wreck of a ladder and five or six
Frogmores and ten or twenty Snods beneath it, wonder-
ing if the roof had fallen on them. _

Daddy Spellmier, cognizant of the sudden fact that
there was a remarkable amount of rumpus without, as
well as within, darted across to the second door, and
opened it with a resounding whack,

He could not stop himself.

Ladder, Jonsey and Spellmier Composed a second tri-
angle of misfortune that awoke every. echo in the old
Mexican hotel. Daddy was in his pajamas just the same,
and the ladder spraddled him, with Leonidas on top of it
all, yelling and stammering.

Several excited chickens managed to. escape also.

To Link, this. scene would have been irresistible had

it not been for the tumultuous interruption, coming at a

crisis of affairs. Two red- faced. Mexican servants rushed

Fes

   

iy iy
Y g

 

THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY. 7

at the other end of the hall, followed by
Their ex-

out of a room
a neat maid, in white cap and ruffled apron.
pressions denoted the most horrified concern.

Link was forcibly drawn from his own pranks by this
startling coincidence. He could tell, with one, long
glance, that there was no joke inthis. Those tense faces,
those wide eyes, looking everywhere yet seeing nothing—
those ghastly glances to leit and right, as two men anda
woman, with fear at their heels, ran madly away from
something which could not have been less than death.

“What is it—what—anyway?” Link Rover challenged.

‘He had joined them halfway down the hall.

“Eso hace temblar!”

“Eso es terrible!”

All three were chattering at once.

“Talk English, for Heaven’s sake, I can’t understand
that,” Link cried in answer. ‘‘What has thappened?”

The girl was first to regain her composure.

“Sefior, look in’ room—in room twenty-two,’ she
gasped. Her face was colorless and her eyes rolled.

It was perfectly evident that they were running away,
and Link, not built of that kind of stuff, gathered him-
self for any ofdeal, darted down the hall and was met
by the half-open door of Room 22.

OU just risk it 1% 7

He went in with some precaution.

On a bed, near the window, his figure stretched out
chill and motionless, as if in death, was a man; but more
peculiar than the facts already transcribed, was the pres-
ence of a strip of scarlet paper, full across his forehead—
pasted there—blood-red and ominous.

CHAPTER’ IV. ‘
“NEVER STILL FOR A MOMENT.

Alone in the room with what promised to be a veritable
tragedy—a crime, a sickening murder case, common to
hotels of this or any other stripe, Rover hesitated, before
carrying on his investigations. It was patent to him
that the servants had stumbled upon Room 22, without
realizing, the ee they should See, and it had frightened
them.

Not more unexpected was his own amazement, when,
looking full into the face of the man on the bed, he recog-
nized him, turning away with a dread of that which had
always been aggressive.

This senseless, lifeless thing was—Padre Diablo!

Link Rover had every reason to fear and despise the
Spanish Carlist. While in. far-away Spain, on a prob-
lematical cruise, Link had met the Padre and fought him,
tooth and nail. An enmity was there begun which had
lasted with not a second of intermission down to the
present. ®

When Link wandered to America, Padre popped up
again, - :

 
   
   

  
sa ®

It was never to go about his own business, if business
he had, but to dog Rover’s footsteps, to strive to harm
him, and even to kill, with no consistent excuse that pe
might work out in his own mind. .

For some time, now, the boy had seen nothing at all
of Diablo, who had been strangely lost in the shuffle of
the cards of fate, and here Link found himself face to
face with his old enemy again, under circumstances that
were most surprising.

Apart from this fresh discovery, Link had enough on
his hands.

This dated back to his Cuban trip.

At a house party, on his own plantation, the lad had
been most mysteriously stabbed. His life was saved after
a hard struggle. This affair had never been clearly ex-
plained, but Link and his companions were of one mind,
that the deed had been done by one Keo Koko, a sleek
Japanese, who had been present on this festive occasion
and had brought a strange silver charm, unmistakably
a connecting link between Rover and that legacy, long
sought. This charm was.made to represent a human
eye, with Rover’s own name engraved deep within the
heart of the fascinating stone.

A game of hide and seek was played, until the voyagers
reached Mexico, when Keo Koko had recovered his prop-
erty and disappeared. By no means had Link been able
to find him, and it was all the more aggravating because
he was assured that the Japanese knew about, or actually
had in his possession, the — so zealously sought by
our hero:

Originally, the legacy had been in the possession of
a Japanese student, of some refinement, reared in Amer-
ica, at an American college; but that through some ill
luck Keo had obtained the material facts, was all too
evident.

Poor old Daddy Spellmier had been almost positive in
his commands. It had been a constant fight between
himself and Link, for whom he was willing to do every-
thing in a financial way, but Rover insisted that he must
come to his own. He must triumph over all obstacles.
Ifa legacy was due him, then get it he would.

Dolly Deane, the “bestest girl ever,” joined forces with
Daddy in pleading with our hero to give up such des-
perate odds. Keo Koko had. disappeared from Mexico
City, as far as they knew, and it would be a literal wild-
goose chase to attempt to locate him. This was doubly
true because Keo knew that he was being followed and
was rascal enough to shy clear of any possible danger.

Amid all this tangle, this web upon web, with a grim,
yellow spider at its apex, confident in its own environ-
ments, and gloating over that which belonged to an-
other? Link was wading, blindly, helplessly, yet with a
certain stolid determination to ees back bas barricades

and win out.

THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY.

People who have this Pe of determination seldom
efatl, ob wasnt Kegecrects E goats
Padre Diable ee up. as a on new eons

If death had overtaken him, then it was epee, for.

never, in all his life, had Padre developed the slightest
symptoms of honest integrity.

The shades of the room were slightly drawn.

Diablo was fully dressed, a suit of dark cloth of very
best texture, and every indication. of affluence. He was
stretched at full length, on the still undisturbed bed, but
his face, with that amazing patch of scarlet across the
forehead, was woefully changed since Link had seen it
last. me
The lips were drawn apart, disclosing a grinning set
of white teeth, the lids of his eyes were raised, giving the
set orbs a weirdly glint, but no animation presented it-
self. The man’s features were as if ¢ut in stone.

He was not dead.

This Link knew in a second, for respiration, although
irregular, was there, nevertheless. It seemed to be a
strange state of coma—an insensibility that bordered on
death, yet was not the final reckoning.

There was no wound, no display of weapons, nothing
to show that he had even been poisoned. |
the matter?

Bending over the inanimate figure, Link lifted the strip
of carmine paper from the forehead of the man. It stuck,
ripping off with a strange sound, and beneath, burned
upon Diablo’s white brow, was a long, reddish mark,
exactly the size of the paper.

This was the mysterious agent.

He was not physician enough to give a complete diag-
nosis of the case, but Link was assured that this little
strip of colored paper was backed on one side by a very
powerful drug of some nature, that would kill, or, at
least, throw the patient into a state of complete sleep.

It was while pondering heavily over the problem that
Prof. Snodgrass came into the room. There was still
considerable excitement in the hall, but Jonsey and Frog
were trying to catch chickens and relieve Spellmier in any
possible manner. ;

“What do you think of it, professor?” Link queried,
after Snodgrass had taken in eyery side of the affair, and
was qualified to express an opinion.

“That -strip, of red a) is of Japanese origin,’ ’ an-
swered Snod.

“What!”

“Yes, Lincoln, undoubtedly,” the grim professor went
on. “I have made a close and observant study of this
very point—of Japanese prints and cloth and paper. If
you will look at the strip, you will see that the peculiar
style of paper, the yery coloring, is all undoubtedly that
of Japanese make. It is a mixture of rice paper and
some other composition.”

“But what of Diablo’s ae condition?”

Then what was

   
    
    
  

 

 

 
   
      
  

|

ae

a
t
t

   
 

   

~ “Caused by a drug pourided into the paper on the face

side and dampened sufficiently to stick after it is once
administered. I have known of similar cases before, al-
though none of this exact type. There may be a chemical
compound in the paper that has the power to bring about
insensibility with the same ease as an opiate or chloro-

form or any of the familiar drugs.”

“Would it prove fatal?”
“In exact proportion to the time limit and power of

any opiate—yes, I venture to say that if this strange
band of scarlet paper had been left on the Spaniard’s

head ‘for an eee he would no longer live.”

“Professor ” and Link walked over to the window,
looking out absently upon the street, “this is the work of
Keo Koko!”

“Impossible, sir. Impossible!”

“Still, that_is my belief.”

 

| YOU attribute everything to the Japanese—the legacy .

has tutned your head, sir. You will not take our sensible

advice.”

“T do not take it because I have a brain of my own.
I have thinking faculties. It means nothing to none of
you, yet it is all in all to me. I must triumph—I must
make good. I can’t always spend a wandering life as
penniless as the poorest peon on the streets of Mexico.”

“T do not attempt to argue with you, sir.”

“No, and I don’t expect you to—I’ll be frank to that
extent. When I say that I think this is Keo Koko’s
work, I base the supposition upon a logical ground—I
think, I try to reason out. It is not at all impossible
that the Japanese is still in this city. We know that he
has peculiar luggage—boxes and other traps. We also
know that Diablo is perfectly aware of my legacy. Does
it not strike you that Padre could have hit upon Keo and
wanted to get the treasure, whatever it is, and that Keo,
fearing this event, took steps, by his own strange means,
to put Diablo out of the way forever?”

“T am not a detective by trade, Lincoln.”

“Nor by instinct; yet we all mitist insist upon a certain
share of personal common sense. It is our safeguard.
I intend to follow up this affair. I intend to know.”

They were interrupted just here by servants and a very
obtrusive officer, who insisted on clearing the room, and
both took their rather reluctant: departure.

With the clearing away of Spellmier’s débris, and the
gradual adjustment of their own internal strife, which
amounted to a hurricane when Daddy was heard from,

_came a firm decision in the mind of Link Rover.

He called at the office and consulted the register.
There was no “Padre Diablo” on the pages, as he ex-

pected.

Clerks told him that the. Spanianl had arrived the night
before and had not left his room since entering it. So
far as they knew, he had not received a single caller.

That day-was memorable for its-series of shotgun in-

THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY.

cidents, each treading upon the heels of the other, in
the shortest- time ever made by combative elements of
chance. oe

At five minutes of six, that afternoon, Link Rover
called for more information with regard to Padre Diablo
and his condition. He was told that physicians had been
in attendance, and’that the Spaniard had gone, still in-
disposed, however. .

At six sharp, a little coach, flying the white flag, which
is a symbol of transportation superiority, rumbled up
to the hotel, and a young lady alighted.

This was Dolly Deane.

She had made all arrangements to leave for Havana,
where she would join her miother, but had delayed the
journey, because of a meeting with ten chum girls—col-
lege graduates, travéling through several of the impor-
tant towns, and en route, eventually, to San Francisco.

They had insisted that Dolly “go the rounds” with
them, and it was in their company that she had passed
many agreeable hours, the crowd being quartered at a
very excellent hostelry.

Link had been over to see her more than once.

It so chancéd that Rover, Daddy and Jonsey were just
stepping out upon the street, when Dolly made her sud-
den appearance. -

“Oh, Link!’ she gasped, too breathless and ae to
speak for a second, “I have the most important news to
tell you. Something that you should know, I’m sure—

12?

something—something dreadful!

 

CHAPTER. V.
‘ STAKING OUT A FEW CLAIMS.

“Now’s the time to speak, Dolly,” Rover said, with
just a shade of indifference, when they were all seated in
the dim little parlor on the ground floor of the hotel,
“Get that story very correct, for I’m muchly inclined to
believe that you are—teas-ing—teas-ing—that you are
only teas-ing me. You want me to leave Mexico when
you do, and settle down in the suburbs of an orphan
asylum, or something of that sort.”

Dolly seemed hurt.

‘Ts that a nice way to talk to me when I—I—have
taken the trouble to hurry up here, with that horrid legacy
in sight and mind all the while?”

“G-g-give it to-to-to h-him,” sputtered Jonsey.

“Saw my cross béams, there’s a Wee for your money,”
chimed Daddy.

Link was interested, of course.

“T really think you are improving,’ he chuckled.

Dolly’s face was still heated by intermittent flushes, her
eyes danced, her breath was irregular.

“T have seen your Japanese friend!” she declared.

“What!”

 
THE YO

“T certainly did, and under circtimstances that I shall
not have cause to soon forget.” anes
“This sounds good.”

“The girls had gone down to the museum for the after-

noon—-I didn’t
La Alameda.

care to go, and 1 went by myself to the
I have liked it’ there very much. It is
“quiet, the fountains and flowers are’ pretty, and in no
other park in Mexico may a lady go with the same com-
plete assurance. It is a haunt for students.”

They were all attention.

“IT was. still studying my little handbook of the city,
and still enjoying, in a drowsy way, the tumultuous over-
flow of flowers that threw their purple shadows across
to the promenade, when I fell asleep. Just lost all
knowledge of everything, concealed from those who might
have made fun of me, by the hedge that grew in front
pf my bench,

“There was no one at all. near—I had picked out a
quiet place on purpose, you ‘see, for I half imagined I
might nod—three Spanish theaters means three late
nights with the girls, and then’ there was the shopping
expedition, in the cool of the afternoon, seven points in
every direction from the Plaza Mayor. I was worn out.
“T could only have been asleep a very few minutes,
when I experienced a sense of sickening dread—a burn-

ing across the forehead, and it awakened me. As I.

sprang up, wondering what could have happened, and
prone to believe that the sun had shifted until 1 was get-
ting its full force upon my head, a strip of scarlet paper
fluttered from my brow to the bench.”

Link Rover gave a quick ery of astonishment.

His companions were one in Dolly’ s words with
marked attention.

“Have you that strip of paper, Dolly?” Link inquired.

For answer, the girlsopened a ‘small hand bag and
produced a counterpart: of«the scarlet paper found upon
the head of Padre Diablo. It was crumpled and turned
up at one corner, as if the sun had intercepted in Dolly's
behalf, and had allowed only an. abbreviated: bit of its
full power to work. In every respect, it was a duplicate
of a similar strip, a strip that had almost cost Diablo
his life. is

“Did you see anyone near?” Link added, excitedly.

“No; I ran down the promenade and returned by a
second path, but saw no suspicious person. It was all
a great surprise to me, for I was sure that. this piece of
rice paper had something to.do with my sudden illness
and the smarting forehead.”

“But there must have been an interloper.”
doubt that.
a bearing on the case.
1, almost

OL cant One little discovery might have
I found’a time-table, printed in
under the bench on which 1 had been
ed. it had been dropped there, I suppose, by whoever
oy across the hedge, as the red slip was placed on my
head. It contains a railroad or tram ticket.” -

   

UNG ROVER LIBRARY.

‘Guadalupe.

Dolly gave Link this. fragment of evidence.”

His examination ‘Of it was ‘at once ister and eae

taking. ee . ' :
Slipped between the pages of a time-table of the ‘Mexi-

can and Vera Cruz Railroad, 'the lad found a “square Or

cardboard; a first-class ticket, good for one passage from
Mexico City to one of the small environs of Guadalupe.
Turning the pages of the time-table over most carefully,
Link saw that some one with a pencil had marked off
the short trip, as shown by lines and stars. They had
drawn well-defined crosses upon the more tedious tram
and horse line, and had obviously studied the better route,
Atepetla, of minor-importance, the bridge across the Rio
del Consul, and many other suburban sections of in-
terest. It was nothing more than a picnic trip, from
point of distance, being one of the neighbors of the city
proper, but this person, unaccustomed to. Mexico and
fearful of being sidetracked to that other and greater
Guadalupe, many miles to the northwest, wanted*to be
sure of his way. =

He was not to be blamed for this.

“It’s on to Guady, all right,’ Link said, fay gies
your suspicions are correct, and we have much cause to
suppose they are, then Keo Koko is now on his way to
We will follow him.”

“Link, Link, are you off again?’ Dolly intefrupied.

“Did you ever see his like?” exploded Daddy.

_ “I hope I haven’t a counterpart, good people,” Link
chirped. “If we do nothing more than spin out there
for a day or so, it will be a grand outing. We'll have
two or three of those big grub baskets fixed up for us
and skeedaddle. Are you on?”

They all were, most decidedly. »

‘Guadalupe boasted a large college, interesting shrines,
and in primitive times sheltered the festive mound-build-
ing Aztec, about whose almost legendary past Mexican
savants and American dreamers weave fantastic theories.

Certainly they would go.

Dolly would accompany them, by special invitation
from Daddy Spellmier, and if nothing more astounding
took place than the discévery of an Indian festival or a
peep at the Capilla del Cérrito, they would still have no
cause for regret. 2 f

It wasn’t far from home. They had this consolation.

“TI have been told,’ said Prof. Snodgrass, when ar-
rangements were being made for an early start, “that ‘the
Chapel of the Little Hill? is rich in romance. It matks
the very spot where Juan Diego cut the roses which
sprang up from a mass of hard stone.”

“That’s nothing,” sputtered* Link.
from a barrel.” 7

“T once took Hee

ee

veseraeh. observed: Roland
e, ‘that I saw actual smoke rising from a pan-

yes, and.it was only

  

 

       

 

 

 
      
   

 

 

 
 

  

did for the purpose.
slipped in a bottle of pulque, just to show. that he might

chased dulces of every possible description.

Those two big lunch baskets were extravagantly splen-
Daddy, on his acting leadership,

liquidate, if none of the others would; while Froggie,
a sweet thing, anyway, was not content until he kad pur-
Mexican
candy appealed to him with alarming force, and those
Morelia slabs of jam, filled with sweet essence of the
guava, quince and other fruits, were enough to kill any-
one but Roland.
_ Lucky chance made them catch a type of picnic car.
It was jammed with Americans, foreigners and natives.
_A spirit of general good will prevailed.
Our friends turned back two sets of seats and made

themselves as comfortable as if they were in a palace

car, and Dolly, making Link behave himself, sat facing
Daddy and Jonsey.

A sharp lookout was kept for Sitter Padre or the
Japanese, but nothing was seen of them. Guadalupe can
be reached by many different branch lines, the transfer
system or the Plaza Mayor route, and it was not at all

' plausible that a view of Keo could be had for love or

money.

Roland had plunged headfirst into one of the baskets
after an introductory sweetmeat, a ten-minute lapse, which
sent them rattling out into the suburbs, when the car
came to a jumbling, rumbling halt, and everyone rushed
to the front platform. i

That is, all except Link Rover.

- It did not especially interest him, that they had struck
a vender of fruit and had knocked his cart and wares
to the four winds, for the peon was not up in a swearing
vocabulary, and the altercation was not worth while.

Link had been fretting over his inactivity.

The people on the car were drowsy and indifferent.
The fat German woman, just across from him, with a fat
German husband, and three children, were painfully dis-
interested. The jabbering Mexicans of the better class,
well forward, had talked themselves into lazy indiffer-
ence; the puffy-faced American, in a tourist’s hat that
was better adapted to the Sahara than civilized Mexico,
cussed everything and everybody and wanted to get
back to his native soil. They were all more or less tan-
talizing.

When the last blooming one of them, German and
American and Mexican and Spanish, rushed to the plat-
form, many alighting, among these his own friends, Link
saw his chance.

It was a rare and rich opportunity.

In nearly every case, those traveling representatives
were supplied with luggage of some description. The
German family had an enormous hamper, five or six
satchels, a raft of umbrellas, and a bird in a gilded cage.

The red-faced American in the Sahara hat had a
dress-suit case and a cane,

THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY.

    

Others were just as well provided. ©

This particular car had met an incoming train and tLe
crowd were strangers, for the better part, seeking their
various destinations.

Link appointed himself “Inspector of Baggage.”

He hopped around between the seats like a monkey off
on a spree.

He made rapid-fire exchanges, switched luggage into
new places, and after the work had reached its glorious
finale, slipped from the other end of the car and seemed
to be just as much interested in the peon’s trouble as
that irate slave was himself.

The passengers were all helping him put his fruit back
on the cart.

He thought they were trying to steal it.

The mix-up was far more exhilatating than Rover had
supposed.

Clang, clang!

It was a signal that they were ready to start.

Perspiring individuals returned to their seats and sat
down with the inner consciousness of having been instru-
mental in a native reform. They were all too excited to
notice any marked change in their luggage.

“Now we're off,” barked Frogmore, settling back with
his hands sticky from guava sauce.

Froggie had it.right, for just then the fussy little tour-
ist in the Sahara hat sprang to his feet with the blatant

and inspiring shout: “Thieves! thieves! Bring back my

\??

cane, you scoundrel!

CHAPTER VT
MR, LAMBERT MEETS A FRIEND,

His peppery temper shown in every expression of his
red face, and with his Sahara hat tilted over one eye, Mr.
Griffin Lambert, the excitable American tourist, flaunted
his fist.

This outburst was leveled: upon a harmless, old Span-
iard in the seat next to him, who did not know what to
make of the affair.

“Eso es bien desagradable!” returned the sefior, with
a‘ shrug of his shoulders.

OE course it’s Hiuheyeoue iuferanlie: disagreeable,
sir, I take it,’ Lambert growled, waving his arms all the
“I know your rank language, I know your ways.
I come from the greatest
You can’t run

Spit it up—spit

more.
You can’t fool me for a minute.
country in the world; we are wise guys.
ine over with any of your funny lugs.
i pe

Lambert was more than typically American.

He was filled to the brim with American slang, —

Almost every other word was a figure of speech.

Link Rover was relieved to run upon a real type—a
man in a class by himself.
“Quita alla!” blustered the don.
“Shame, you fried herring,” yelled Mr. Lambert, read-

justing his Sahara hat... “It-certainly is a rattling shame.
This country is on the hog, all right, all right. I’ve been
here long enough to know. Say, my friend, I’m next,
see! I’m right next. I want my cane quick, or I’ll have
you pinched,”

All the people in the car, including the conductor, were
on deck.

The Spaniard looked down and saw that a care, of
which he knew nothing, was perched against the side of
the seat.

“V. tlene mucha culpa!’ he said.

“I know it’s wrong, hang you,’ Lambert sneezed.
“Just toss off my property, you lobster.”

He reached over for his cane, but, in doing so, dropped
that. remarkable hat from his head, whereupon it fell
directly into the lap of the aggrieved don.

“Oh, ho!” Lambert screeched, with renewed anger.
“Trying to snatch my lid, too, I take it. Just cough up
my—er—wow—say—I—-I—he’s got my dress-suit case,
too, I'll be strung if he ‘hasn’t; if this doesn’t beat the
Dutch, Ill be stripped and feathered.”

While peeping over the seats, he had plainly discerned
his own suit case calmly squatting at the feet of the man
in the other aisle.

The temperature was gradually rising.

Brother Lambert figured it out that he was up against
a game of grand roguery. The audacity of this remark-

able Spanish thief! He would teach the fellow how to
treat an American gentleman.

“Gimme that cane!”

“Eso es terrible!’

“Gimme that hat!”

“Sefior-——”

“Gimme that ‘dress-suit case!”

Lambert was brimming with talk.

He did not stop to consider that he himself was open
to insult, if he cared to investigate. :

On the floor, at his feet, stood a big hamper.

The German lady two seats down suddenly saw it.

She knew it was hers.

No other fragment of talk or excitement was of note to
her now.

“Look, Franz!” she bawled, at top-note speed.
iss der loonch. Dose fellers vos haf it mit
She was into the aisle on the second.

“What is the matter, madam ?”

“Gif me my pasket, quick alretty !”

Nee
der seat by.”

“Brush by, brush by, Mary Queen of Scots,”
“1 tell you vot I vant—Franz—you Franz
you, ven dese mens vould tage der basket out.”

         

She was calling her husband.

Link Rover expressed some surprise, naturally enough.
He could not sit unmoved while this domestic tragedy
was in operation,

   

THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY.

        

»

“Tt looks as if there was some sort of trouble, Dolly,”
he whispered to his companion. “It seems impossible for
us to enjoy a neat time without running upon @ Bela
ach—umisery.’’

Dolly, as usual, was sympathetic.

The Spaniard was lifting the stolen dress-suit case over
the back of the seat to place it where it belonged, together
with the cane and that Sahara hat, when he espied his
own bundles in the seat next to the one he occupied.

The.four Mexican farmers were walking on them.

There was some red-hot ae talk, there and then.

“My pasket, Franz!”

“Say, woman, your loft is filled with spoiled hay.”

“La siento!”

“Senor, I implore you-—

“Vere-iss dose paskets ?”

The children of the German family all began to cry in
one breath.

With her hand firmly planted in one of the hoops of
ther hamper, the frau was attempting to lug it out into
the aisle. She could not do this very well, for Lambert's
legs were crossed around it, and when she gave an extra
pull, assisted by Franz, he was jerked from his feet, right
upon them, sitting down in the basket.

Here was more trouble.

There were pies on the top, simply held by a thin cloth.

This flashed up.

Lambert’s pants were festooned with apple and mince.

He was so incensed that he did not appreciate his con-
dition just then, even if remnants of pies were dripping
from him and a good section of a lunch had been put out
of business.

The Spanish gentleman had dumped his case over the
seat, and, as the catch was not firm, the thing had popped
Open.

Among other things to deluge out was a big flask.

A reason for the red face of Brother Lambert.

He didn’t mind the whizzing shirts and collars and
socks and cuffs, but that he should thus be humiliated,
and a thirst developed before the eyes of all, was really
too much.

“Say, this is the limit!” “he roared, trying to get his
valuables into the case once more.’ “You be careful with
that ‘hat, will you. It’s been through the universe and
back again. I—I—say—wow—I didn’t take your rattling
basket, madam, don’t come at me in that fashion. ‘This
is an all-around roast.”

“Franz, yuo vos hit him, py chimmey!”

There was a rich diversity of chatter from the four
Mexicans. |

3?

In turn, they had found that their own luggage was in
the seat where Daddy and Frog were situated.

“Daddy saw his little satchel on the seat with two other
travelers far down the line.

Six umbrellas belonging to the German family had sud-
 

 

 

denly turned up by a thin rail of a man, who was getting

information for a book.
This man’s things were still further fee

It was the maddest mix-up that could be placed.

Talk about your mystic maze rackets.

Link was an easy winner.

Mr.. Lambert’s Spanish. don hustled to the other side
of the car and demanded his stuff from the four Mexi-
cans. The four Mexicans were demanding theirs from
Daddy Spellmier. Daddy. wanted his luggage trom them,
and it seemed to be a merry-go-round.

By some mysterious move of the hand of chance, not
one party could lay claim to his own personal property.
It was a grand puzzle from A to Izzard.

Franz, fat and puffing, was pulling his hamper down

the aisle.

The conductor hustled up.

Tt struck him.

. The four Mexicans were in the way as well.

That aisle would have passed for a-bull ring.

Link wanted to stand on the seat and sell tickets.

With the don away, Lambert frazzled around between
seats in search of his cane and hat.

They had both rolled under the cushions.

He reappeared, as red as the lobster he had brought
into his conversation; but he had his cane. An angular
Mexican, «with malice in*his heart for the universe, was
standing in Lambert’s seat, pulling a roll of papers from
the rack.

Spellmier, angry with the rest, had just rescued his
own goods.

The car “worked” with animation.

“There,” exclaimed Dolly, as she reached for Link’s
hand and patted it, “I really think you are improving,
Link. This is the first rumpus I ever saw in which you
did not figure. You have been a real good boy. You
haven’t moved from your seat. I’m right proud of you.”

And Link smiled.

He couldn’t do anything else.

There was no need of his moving.

That joke worked its own wires. There was no need

of a pull.

That was why he took the sublime part of a martyr.

Should a boy look for trouble? Well, scarcely. Link
had a front seat, and he could.see everything.

His only regret was that the trip should be so limited.

He saw the finish coming.

As fast as one personage would safely claim his own
goods and had quartered them, another’ angry traveler
would happen along and go diving into the débris for
other articles.

Lambert was the very last to get settled, and this oc-
curred only when the train was rolling into Guadalupe.

For twenty minutes, in~one solid line of excitement,
that car had been turned upside down.

THE YOUNG ROVER ¢IBKARY,

   

TRG

The German family were especially unhappy.

Lambert had executed a pretty dance in and on and
around the lunch hamper.

He had sufficient proof of this.

When he tried to get up, at the terminal, he stuck,
Fermentation had begun with the mince pies and the _
apple.

He was a sight.

“T guess I’m strickly on the pig,” he remarked, giving
Prof. Snodgrass a doubtful look, as they were all alight-
ing. “Gee, but this Mexico is a cheap-skate place. Dm
out for a few mines up here in the mountains, but I knew
I could only hit the high spots.”

With that, he was gone.

Link was watching him from the car platform, as he
scampered nervously up to one of the miserable coaches,
and scrambled in—watching him with more than passing
interest.

“A queer fellow, that,” he commented to Dolly.

The vehicle in which Lambert rattled off made a quick
turn to the right, on its waydeross the tracks.

There were two persoris in it.

Once before, quartered nicely by one of these grotesque
Mexican conveyances, Link Rover had seen a well-known
and none-too-agreeabie face peer diut from the square of
dirty glass.

All the more reason why he should not be slow to
awake,

“Dolly, professor, Daddy,” he called, wheeling about,
as if to go on the other side of the platform, “my guess
wasn’t half bad—in fact, it was bully good, even if 1 do
say it. myself.”

They turned as one, to follow his index finger.

The man in the drab coach with Mr. Lambert was Keo
Koko!

a emirnenn eens

CHAPTER Vil

WHICH DEALS WiTH A DRESS-SUIT CASE.

Events that are of vital import too often happen with
agonizing rapidity when one is least expecting them, and
this was very true of the sudden and amazing appearance
of the es Keo, who, flashing upon the scene one
as well out of sight the next, leaving Link
station

second).
Rover A his comrades thunderstruck on the
platform, well out from the city of Guadalupe.

Tantalizing Mexican women, with orchids, offered their
wares for sale, beggars clamored and coach drivers filled
the air with din, but out over the sunny hill rattled the
forlorn hope, to which our hero had clung, ever since
his arrival in Mexico—his legacy, his independence, his
very life.

‘We must follow him,’ Link sang, running across. to
one of the simple drivers, who was only too ready to

  

       
 
no THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY.

make a deal in which pesetas were more than apt to play
the main part.

“Lincoln—Lincoln !”’

“What are you about there, boy?”

They could not stop him.

Now he’ was seated triumphantly in. the equipage, his
face flushed, his eyes burning, waving one hand to the
crowd.

“Come on, all of you, or stay at the village. I won't
see the rascal get away from me again. It will not be
another Vera Cruz blunder.”

Roland Frogmore was first to get in line.

* He scrambled up into the coach just as Link had mo-
tioned ta the driver. He was to follow the drab vehicle,
just dipping beyond the hill from the station.

He must not lose sight of it if he hoped to get his pay.

“Lincoln, bum-badger it, wait, wait, where are
Daddy Spellmier was trailing after the thundering coach,
but all in vain.

Rover bent out, to look backward, yelling all the while.

“Follow us, if you can!” he commanded. “If not, we'll
see you later. It’s all O K, Daddy!”

Spellmier was forced to be content.

According to all theoretical lines, Link had been wise
in his judgment so far. The very fact that Keo Koko
chanced to be near Guadalupe convinced him that the
Japanese was responsible for that mysterious rice paper
deal in the park and at the Iturbide.

The little ticket, bought in advance, and dropped in the
park by the person who had attempted Dolly Deane’s life,
was scheduled for Guadalupe. Keo was there—had met
the American, Lambert, at the station, for some reason
as yet undeveloped, and was’ surely planning deviltry.
Padre Diablo, although richly deserving it, had been
labeled with one of the terrible death-dealing strips of
red paper.

It was all narrowing down to a certainty.

More proof, a little more proof, only was needed.

Link gripped Froggie by the coat sleeve.

“T’ll not give it up this time, Roland,” he said, quickly.
“Not for me. You know, as well as I, that Keo has some-
thing to do with this funny business. JI’Il see the wretch,
face him with fact, and make him out with what he
knows. I want to learn the puzzle of the Silver Eye and
my legacy.”

“A bally big job!”

“What of it? We never find anything worth while
unless we have a stab at it. I’m willing to fight the thing
through.”

“But—but

“Cut that all.out. If you want to go back, tell me; I'll
have the coach stopped.”

99

 

 

“No, dash me, if you do.”
moeKe lt,
The vehicle was rapidly catching up with the quarry.

“Bully boy-right after my own heart.

There were many odd carriages, pack mules. and carts
along this street, and pursuit was not noticed by anyone
in the drab coach, as far as they could judge.

It rumbled along, clumsily enough, not very far in ad-
vance, and both boys could see the smoke from Lambert’s
cigar, trailing off through an open window, and the high-
cut, tan shoe perched on the dashboatd, Keo Koko was
completely concealed.

Link whispered a word of warning to his driver, a dull,
little fellow, with deep-set eyes and crafty face.

“What is your usual fare?” he asked.

“One peso, sefior.” oe

“Dollar, eh? well, hear me. If you follow that coach
there, until it stops at its destination, I'll give you three
ee § ee inet

“St, senor.’

ue ee her up; keep them from knowing it if
you can.’

At a little drinking tavern, a the side road, just
before the vehicle ahead turned off a wild thoroughfare
leading to the interior, an order was given to stop, and
two glasses of pulque were brought out. f

“Old brass face and Lambert are evidently thirsty,”
“Hey there, driver, run off to the left
We can do without any-

commented Link.
and stop under that big tree.
thing to tank on.”

This order was filled to the letter.

From their sequestered position, it was possible to
watch every movement of those within the coach.

The Japanese was drinking his pulque with evident
relish.

Lambert had made a wry face; had opened his dress-
suit case and was taking therefrom that black bottle, ex-
posed so cruelly on the train.

The bill was paid and the coach took to the lonely road.

‘All right, we’re after them, we’re after them!” whis-
pered Link.

Some one else had the very same thing in mind.

“That’s rattling peculiar, Link.”

ny the white walrus of Tipperary, I should say it
was.’

Both lads gasped in unison, ‘settling back among the
rusty, crusty cushions with growing doubt. A light, gray
coach, flaunting a white flag, had spurted out from be-
yond the inn and was going up the hill like a snail after
the drab vehicle.

This of itself was not extraordinary, but the gray trap
was obviously in pursuit, although taking its time. When
one: stopped, the other did likewise.

“We'll join them, no matter what,”
comment.

was Link’s grim

39

“Blawsted funny, old chap,” said Frogmore.
He was getting nervous.
“T didn’t see that other rig before, did you?’

“Stash it, no.

> ae

Teas

 

     

 

    
    
  
    
  

 

 
 

  

ate Se

“She just popped up serenely.”
~“The very same, your honor.”
_ “The officials may be after Keo.”

“T scarcely think that. We haven’t said anything about
our suspicions, and the Padre affair was not solved at the
hotel.” : 7 |

“Count us in, nevertheless; I say, it’s a jolly go.”

Frogmore was a coward only when repelling the girls.
He couldn't fight the fascination of their charms. Com-
monplace dangers, a juicy share of which he had encoun-
tered, were not at all alarming to him.

He could “stand pat,’’ could Froggie.

That ride through the country was, apparently, to be
without termination, it would seem. Guadalupe was but
a hazy and drowsy mass of buildings to the rear, while
the stolid, old head of one of the smaller mountain peaks
threw its rugged steep before the road.
_ They were tasting “wildest Mexico”
jump of the capital city.

Granaries were passed, frowning old powder ware-
houses, set far back among the hills, scattered adobe huts
ofa type fast disappearing, for the peon is creeping grad-
ually to the edge of his existence. The middle class has

re

within a frog’s

encroached upon his domainy and railroads have made

poor Mexicans rich.

There were Indians, too, their blankets bobbing at their
heels, and their picturesque earthen pots balanced upon
heads that had been trained to chance the fates. There
were saucy, little burros, wind-swept and snow-cultured,
from the table-lands ; there were smiling haciendas where
nature was lavish, and great fields stretched in guarding
flanks to right and left.

Mexico, at your service—just as you will see it in a
railroad guide book.

Further away from even these vestiges of civilization,
the two coaches ahead were clattering.

The way grew rocky, the road more tortuous, and now,
plastered to the edge of a rocky hill, that looked down
upon cultivated acres beneath, and up to grand mountain
scenery above and beyond, a picturesque tavern loomed.

“Tl stake it, they are bound : said Link,

“Sure, pop!”

“We'll make certain, and then skip this coop.”

youre, pop |”

One*of the carriages, the white flier, darted, with drawn
shutters, to the narrow stable path to the right of the inn,
and was lost to view behind a stone fence. The drab
vehicle stopped at the sign of the swinging goblin.

This wayside establishment had a peculiar trade-mark.

Above the door, suspended by an iron hook and rest,
was a carved image, painted red. . It represented a fat,
little demon with bulging stomach and eyes.

“Stop here!”

Link Rover gave the almost: inaudible, but imperative,

cry. He pulled his purse from his pocket and gave the

THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY.

  

fs

faithful-driver more
award for the trip.

“Now,” Link went on, “return to Guadalupe, find our
friends if you can, tell them that we are safe and that
they need not worry about us. I have given you enough
to more than guarantee such a favor.”

A slight bend in the road made it possible ee all this
to take place unseen by any possible wise ones at the inn.
The coach went slowly off down the slope until it disap-
peared, and the two boys were left standing beside the
road under a spreading tree. :

“What is it, now?” ventured Froggie, with a worried
look.
“We must lie low,” was the response.

“There they go. Taffy face and old, red-faced Lam-
bert—another dash‘ of pulque, I venture, don't you
know ?”

“No, the coach-is returning; look sharp.”

With a smash and a rattle, the drab vehicle caved
down the mouiitain road, but Link and Froggie, concealed
by rocks and bushes, had not been discovered.

They trudged laboriously up the beaten path to the
inn. Tee Sees
It: was now a case of “butt in” for all it was worth.

“That fat goblin on the sign looks like you, Frogmore,”
Link said, winking, as they deliberately stopped at the
open door of the establishment. “If you had a coat of
red paint, you could take its place.”

“Oh, I say; Rover3t: mies complained,
to joke.”

“Say you so ”

“Yes, we can’t stand out here like a couple of blooming
dubs, don’t you know. we ‘must go in. Will you just
brace them?” | :

“Tt might be all ‘igthto I ean’t eve that fellow Lam-
bert is in league wan Keo—the Jap is too smart to go
halves with anyone.”

With no further patley, they walked into the room.

It was fitted up with a small counter, where certain
native liquors were dispensed, tables and, at the further
end, three small drinking rooms, divided from each other
by panelwork.

Lambert and the Japanese were not in sight.

A bustling, little Mexican was cleaning bottles by the
counter. On their approach, he stepped up.

Two soft drinks were ordered, eS

“Serve them in there!”

Link pointed to the second drinking room.

They were all supplied with low, green doors.

It was taking a chance—a rattling chance at fate. He
might strike it and he might not.

Link put his fingers to his lips.

Frogmore understood.

No talking.

With very little cereniony; apart from demanding his

than he asked, five pesos, a princely

“this isn’t a time

  

 

  
16 - ae YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY.

fee, the innkeeper departed, after oe the drinks,
and Link and Frog were left to their excited selves.

Link’s lips were at his companion’s ears. _

“T think they must be in one of these two rooms—I
took number two on that account. It was luck, pure
luck—we stand two rackets, two times at the bat; we
can’t strike out.” _

Froggie nodded.

Green seats were nailed to the wall.

Above they could see where the partitions stopped. It

was quite possible to peep over if one stood on their tip-

toes on the seats.

Link took the initiative.

There were sounds from the third booth.

He could see Lambert and Keo there, just as if it was
all settled, as he gained the seat and strained upward.

Would he be mistaken? It would appear not, for the
two men had entered the inn less than fifteen minutes be-
fore, and were not quartered elsewhere by this time, he
knew.

It was trapping the game.

Slowly, very slowly, he arose.

_A single suspicious noise would queer the deal.

Keo was sharp of ear. —

hAnY

To save the very life of him, although he was prepared
for almost any surprise, Link Rover could not prevent
that distinct gasp a astonishment. ft came before he
knew it. :

Bending over. the table in the booth a Padre Diablo
—not Lambert, not the Japanese.

The Spaniard was just on the point of opening a dress-
suit case, a case so well known, smeared with jam and
mince pies—Lambert’s dress-suit case.

Link knew it on the instant.

Before Rover could pop down, in that wonderful Jack-
in-the-box stunt of his, and with his pale face peering

above the panelwork of the room, Padre had caught him.

in the very act, drawn a revolver, with the first sudden
anger of the recognition, and fired!

CHAPTER. VIII,
THE LITTLE RED DEVIL.

The report of Padre: Diablo’s revolver awoke a thou-
sand echoes in the old tavern, and went bounding back
among the rocks. Tazar, the very amiable little Mexi-
can man, keeper of the rock-bound hostelry, kept a peace-
able joint.

“Padre’s revolver was a new sensation when it one
_ Link Rover, as he tumbled down the side of the boards
into Roland’s arms, knew only we he had escaped

through the generous workings of fat

‘The bullet had not touched him,

“ment with dodging glances.

A dark rip of wood above, along the ceiling, told where
it had lodged.

Royer could not stop to answer “questions, although
Frog was plying Him with them in no easy manner of
speech. Our hero was recovering from the shock of that
first surprise.

Diablo had rained from a clear sky.

No one in the party had seen him since his rapid leave-
taking from the hotel in Mexico, Now he was on the
map once more—the same cruel, rascally Padre, willing
at any time to use his shooting irons and to draw a knife.

Padre would bear watching.

A second of speculation as the smoke cleared, Link
speedily surmised that the Spanish Carlist had been the
occupant of the white coach. It had followed the drab
one since leaving the first inn and had gone to the stables.

Mystery was piling on mystery.

At this juncture there were sounds of a heated argu-
ment in Booth No. 3. Diablo was easily a fragment of it.

“Stash it, do you want to get plugged, after all?”

Frogmore made a jump for his friend, as young Rover
stood upon the gréen seat and peppered the other apart-
He wanted to know the cause
of the argument.

It was a comparatively safe deal,

Who had stumbled into the booth but Mr, Lambert?
His red face was still more radiantly red, his tie was un-
fastened and the effects of too many dashes of pulque
and wino de membrillo were all too evident, for he stag-
gered as he plunged into the small room, drawn there by
the shot.

He was backed by Tazar, the innkeeper.

For all his bottle-tapping, Lambert knew what he was
about, There was a certain calm reserve of manner that
made his position uncertain. Mr. Lambert was an Ameri-
ean through and through, and Mr. Lambert could hold
up his own end.

Link watched with feverish interest.

He was not seen by the others.

Padre Diablo was backed against the wall, beyond the

table, with the smoking revolver still in his clasp. He was

obviously at bay.

“Whatcher doing with that dress-suit case?”

“Nothing, sefior.”

“That’s a lie—I saw you trying to open it.”

“No, 10, nol”

“Come off, come off; trying to rub it in, eh? Now, my
purty little dark-skinned baby, I won’t stand for this
sort of a layout. Give an account of yourself.”

Lambert was compelled to lean against the door for
support, but he talked as soberly as a judge.

Link was admiring him for the determination expressed

in every line of his usually jovial and composed face.

Padre was shaking his head.
The American staggered to the table, rested upon it

 

#

 

 

 
 

 

   

  

- ~ THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY.

  

vith one hand and shiot the other, finger pointed, right to
thy Spaniard’s face. To be accurate, his nose.

“What business did you have in this booth, anyway ?”

“I go—mistake,” said Padre.

“Did you—that granted—did you try to open my grip
by mistake, too? Say, this is on the level; I’m not taking
a con like this from any bandit like-you. Shell out the
truth and Pll wallop you out of here. Keep up that string
of infernal lies, and—I’ll have you tucked by an officer.”

“He thinks he’s in America,” whispered Frogmore, who
had joined Link over the panels.

“T no take foolishness,’’ Padre hissed.
mistake; you leave me—I go—I go.”

He raised his revolver threateningly.

Smash!

Lambert was not too intoxicated.

His working faculties were not disturbed a little bit.

With a sweep of his big hand he had knocked the gun
from the other man’s grasp, and was grinning at him,
wickedly, surely, the grin of perfect self-possession—the
grin that wouldn’t come off.

“Tf you monkey with that iron jigger, I’ll bat you over
the head with it and stuff it down your throat,’ Lambert
sallied. “They tried to rob me on the train and now I
have another handsome jolly; well, it don’t go, see.”

Padre disregarded these threats in a way.

He did not attempt to regain his revolver, but he was
edging around the side of the table to the door.

A knife flashed by his side and Lambert did not see it.

“Got you, old Spanish.”

Lambert and Tazar looked up in amazement, as Link
Rover’s form crawled to the top of the partition and went
shooting down on the other side, to mash Padre floor-
ward as if the house had fallen on him.

No knife tricks would go, with Link in the ring.

Lambert recognized him as a train comrade.

“Hello, there, kid,” he shouted, “I’m having some jolly
trouble with this snake. I guess he feels now as if he had
been sat upon.” |

Padre was mad with rage.

Squirming upward from beneath the table and pitching
Link from his back, he tripped and jostled and drawled
to the door, managing to get through it before he Bae

“T tell you, one

be stopped.

He had dropped his knife.

“Catch him!”

“Stop the lobster !”

“Get busy there, you beastly Mexican!”

Out into the main room they all ran, with Diablo only
a wee bit in the lead and exceedingly anxious to get as
far away as he could. With Tazar and Lambert both
atop him, the Carlist lost his equilibrium and went crash-
ing in among the tables. He was deluged with wine from
a large stone mug, but fought as if his life depended
upon it. |

 
   

Link had been busy scheming all the while.

He whispered a word to the man in the Sahara hat.

Lambert nodded witha chuckle.

Then Link was off to the front stoop, tain a rope
after him that was long enough to make a lasso.

He was up to one of his tricks.

Padre managed to free himself, for he was a powerful
man, and no one stopped him as he reached the open
portal, clattering out and to the road, with EnOG: Tazar
and Lambert in hot pursuit. |

The latter flourished the Spaniard’s own cher

They were ready to make things hot for Diablo,

“I say there, Link, Link Rover,’ Frogmore screeched.
“It’s the bally old sneak, Padre; we want to give him a
rattling, jolly send-off, don’t you know. Three shots for
five,”

Diablo darted off down the rocky road.

He didn’t get far.

Link was seen to whirl the rope several times around
his head; it whistled through the air, true to its aim, and
caught the Spanish rascal about the waist, fastening his
arms-~to his sides.

Link had been an expert at lasso work in the West.

He knew how to handle the rope like a cowboy.

With a groan and a pop, Parson Padre was jerked off
his feet, the rope tightening, and then it was that all noted
the most remarkable feature of the entertainment.

The other end of Link’s lasso was attached to the great
iron sign above Tazar’s inn.

It was noosed about one of the legs of the little red
devil, used as an official tavern trade-mark, had caught
and caught to stay.

“Let him have it!”

“Now for your gun work, Mr. Lambert!’

Bang! bang! bang!

Padre screamed for mercy and sprang up again, tug-
ging at the lasso with his body.

It worked a marvel.
Rotted from long contact with weather, with rain and

sunshine, the old, rusty demon parted company with the

body of the sign and pounced to the ground, scooting
along after Padre as a thing imbued with life.

Things were beginning to catch the flavor of fun.

Tazar saw what had been done.

He waved his arms in a burst of woe, pushed his feet
forward in the chase and set out after the man who was
stealing the pride of his heart.

The red demon was almost walking.

When Diablo jumped, so did the idol,

When he gave an extra energetic touch to his speed, it
hit the high places on the road, and was as acrobatic in
its hilarious movements as a monkey on a stick.

Frogmore doubled up with laughter.

He had seen a flash of red, heard a roar, discerned two
48 | THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY.

funny, goggle eyes of the crimson imp as it went sky-
rocketing due south.

“Rattling jolly, I take it!”

“Pop! pop !”

This was the merry song of Padre’s own revolver in
the hands of Lambert.

They were all enjoying the scramble.

Padre leaped over every obstacle like a frightened deer,
his hands still helplessly pinned to his sides by the rope,
but Link’s addition to the family, a wrought-iron image
of that rascally Spaniard himself, newer lost an inch in
the most jovial test of speed, as yet chronicled on the
racing records of old Mexico.

 

CHAP TER IX,
AT THE CHAPEL OF THE DINGOS.

In order to assure Diablo’s speed, Link had told Lam-
bert to use the pistol with all possible rapidity, not using
the Spaniard as an actual target, but merely to frighten
him on his travels. He was not a character that would
prove desirable in that vicinity. —

As the rope grew taut and he ran on, the tavern idol
caught in a stone, held there for one fleeting second and
then dove into mid air. ©

It landed on Padre’s back. «

He thought they were firing bombshells at him.

Around both legs that rope was meshed.

The imp with a Frogmore’face was everywhere at once,
grinning, and bowing, and rumbling, in a metallic fashion.

Link had tied.a secure knot. é

Tazar, the Mexican, treasured his_sign.

Tie did not consider it an honest thing that Diablo
should walk or run off with his goods, If people should
see the idol, far down the road somewhere, hanging from
Padre’s eyebrows, they would naturally suppose that the
Tazar establishment had been blown up by a volcano.

It was losing trade.

Once the angry tavern keeper was so near to Diablo
that, in reaching down to grab the idol, he stepped on the

rope instead,

Old Spinich was going it like a locomotive.

“7 azar feet twinkled in the atmosphere, and ‘he hit_the
road as if he had just been dropped from a balloon, while
Padre did not miss a single inch.

After a second round from the revolver, Padre had
completely disappeared. The trees and rocks sheltered
him. :
commented Link
“How

“Good riddance of a bad proposition,”
Rover, smiling the smile of the supremely content.
was that, Mr. Lambert?”

_ “He was a smudge, now, wasn’t he: ” sputtered Lam-
bert, tipping his Sahara hat from his perspiring forehead.
“1 nipped my bird just as he’ was getting next in the

  

  

tavern booth. ate lobster had the audacity | to grab : ry
dress-suit case.” — Cts
“How did he know it was foe ne |
Link led around to a very important matter in a very
careless and indifferent way. He did not want to arouse

the peiieeke of the testy American | if i could ‘Keep

from it.”

“Went rubbering,” said Lambert.
to do that. My companion and myself had gone upstairs
to look at this-old duffer’s layout. I thought the case
would be safe enough, when I had shut the door. Came
down for another throat teaser and heard the lobster
in the booth. That shot rather hustled me up, too.”

“Yes, I had the pleasure of posing for that bullet. a
was in one of the booths, poe over to see what the
sounds were and he let fly at me.’ Za

“Ever see him before?” —— ‘

“You better bet. A rascal, every inch of him. Up here
on pleasure bent, Mr. Lambert?”

“Pleasure fiddlesticks,” and the American flipped his
hand at the innkeeper who trotted up puffing and dust-
streaked. “Hey, there, man, give me a gulp of good stuff.

' Trigger pulling has warped my rafters—pleasure, rather

not. I’m to buy two or thre@ mines up here for a syn-
dicate.”’

“Traveling alone?”

Frog gave Link a quick ba of apprehension.

“Yes.” Lambert took a long drink from the glass that
was handed to him. “Never lug along a millstone;
doesn’t pay when you’re out on business. Oh, I did come
up from Guadalupe with a little Jap fellow—met him at
one of the small hotels in Mexico City and joined him
there. We came up together this far. He’s upstairs
now.” zs

“A Japanese !”

Link expressed some local interest.

“Yep, Jap, spry as a grasshopper, I'll tell you. He
seems a nervous, little rapper, though, had some sort of
trouble—secret enemies and all that sort of tommyrot.
I’ve had cause to befriend him more than once, but I don’t
mind, Mr. Koko will visit one of the big mines with me;
he’s studying that business to make a report when he goes
back.”

Link blinked.

Keo was up to his old land and mine stunt again, as a
temporary blind. It was now evident that Lambert’s
position in the episode was one above suspicion. He did
not know the true character of the Japanese.

This was clearly demonstrated.

Keo had been smart enough to cling to the husky
American as a protector in his dash across the country.

It was a very tactful move.

Keo Koko was upstairs, up in one of the rooms,
were to remain all night, per previous arrangements.

“T'll just go up and pull yaller out of his nest,” said

  
 

“Trust a dey Dago

They :

 

 

 

      

   
 

   

   

 

‘Lambert, swallowing the last drop from his glass; “like
you to meet him. He isn’t half bad. Have a drink ?—no
—well, I can’t see how you hit these Mexican trails with-
out some liquidation. The climate changes here every
ten minutes by the watch. D’ve changed my undercloth-
ing thirty times in two days, and a nigger guide down in
the valley intimated that I'd need a polar outfit if 1 went
to the mountain region—that’s a fact. You don’t drink,
do you?—nor your friend. It’s a hard lesson for me to
get under my belt. Sonny, where I come from—my town
—if a man don’t drink, they put him in a madhouse. At
the first sign of a genuine thirst, they take it as a favor-
able turn and get the papers aed for release. That’s
how I began.”

Lambert went unsteadily up the stairs, taking the dress-
suit case with him. He was cursing roundly because he
couldn’t find the key. It had been lost somewhere during
the scuffle.

Frog and Rover were leaning against the counter in a
vain attempt to collect their wits for what promised to be
a warm interview, when the American’s thunderous steps
were heara in the hall above, and he blustered down the
steps again. |

“He’s. gone, shot his bolt, skipped the ranch, I guess.
That’s funny,” he exclaimed; “left him in one of the
rooms. Suppose he had a bee in his nightcap when he
heard that pistol shot. Doesn’t like guns or ginger;
funny, mighty funny.”

Link and Roland could feel their spirits sink.

The game had been lost a second time.

For some odd reason, as yet unknown, their quarry
had vanished, leaving no trace behind.

“And he didn’t say a word, not a word,” Lambert was
muttering to himself, scratching his head; “never mind,
I'll see him; he promised to turn up at the mine. I'll see
him, I’ll see him.” :

As some relief from this shock, an hour afterward, one
of the large carryalls, with three horses, rolled up to the
inn of the Red Imp and the remaining members of the
party alighted.

There were Dolly, the professor, Daddy and Jonsey, as
big as life.

Link greeted them with much satisfaction.

“Bum-badger me, I guess you’ve got your legacy in
your hip pocket,’ Daddy snorted.

“No, I have not, Daddy !”

“He doesn’t want to find it yet, Mr. Soeituler, ” Dolly
put in, with a smile. “There would be no more chance
to risk his neck, and you know he wouldn’t be satisfied
with that.”

“Be cheerful, Dolly.”

“Yes, but you made us take this unearthly ride.”

“Tt won’t hurt any of you, I’m sure.
track, I have that much satisfaction.
cut it short.

I was on the right
No more now, just

T’ll give you a reason later. Allow me; I’m

THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY.

the level of the grassy floor.

 

ae

 

a real chump. oe is Mr. Lambert; he was with us on
the Guadalupe car.’

There was general handshaking, which ended in a land-
slide for Spellmier, as the old reprobate was corralled by
the American and made to enjoy just one pulque for the
love of old times. 7

The big baskets of lunch were spread on the southern
slope of the hill beyond the tavern and there, with the
sweeping view of the valley spread out below them, they |
had a real feast.

Brother Lambert agreed to accept their hospitality.

He brought a round of soft drinks from the hotel and
ordered another mug of pulque for Spellmier.

“Tust let the young folks have the light stuff,” he ex-
plained. ‘‘When they get as old as you and I, Mr. Bell-
crier, they'll need something to put a little blood in their
bones.”

Dolly interrupted this thankless conversation.

“Look down there!” she exclaimed, pointing to the
valley.and a mound of earth and rocks that dipped above
“T suppose some festival is
in order. Look at the strings of people. We can see
them coming from every direction.”

Tazar volunteered information.

The Indians were holding a day of prayer and festival,
at the chapel of the Dingos, one of their ancient and
muchly respected stone gods.

On this occasion, the regular priests of the church
offered no interference. The chapel was turned over to
them completely, and they did as they pleased.

Tazar was of the opinion that they would not resent
visitors.

At these times they were blind to everything except the
rude fragments of a religion which had all but vanished —
by a new civilization.

It was in the calm of the afternoon that the little party
descended the hill by a circuitous path and, after some
difficulty, gained the chapel.

It was a picturesque old ruin, in some respects, with
queer balconies, ramparts and towers, not at all in keep-
ing with religious style in stone.

From five roads, Indians, dressed as our friends had
never seen them before, crowded to the place. They
were devout in their manner and paid no particular at-

tention to the interlopers.

Interest centered upon a great stone room and a graven
slab, and to this sacred locality the party meandered, re-
solved to see and hear as much as was permissible.

Link, stopping on the broad, stone flags, and facing
about until the orange of the low sun fell full athwart

his figure, gave a deep sigh of resignation.

“T hate tédo it, but I suppose I must, ” he murmured,
following the procession.
 

CHAPTER XS:
DING DONC BELL}

The overcrowded condition of the chapel room was
not conducive te comfort, especially as Indians are In-
dians, and the day had been a very, very warm one in
the valley.

Link couldn’t see the sense of mingling with the com-
mon herd. ’

His friends could go if they wanted to.

How like Rover to go scuttling around in an out-of-the-
way corner, up rear steps, across musty floors, and far
from the maddening throng.

Before he quite realized it, he came upon a type of loft.

Here there were decayed boards, plaster images and
webs that were as big as blankets.

From somewhere, subdued a. trifle,
chanting.

“T must be above the gang,” he thought. “What a lark
—imuch rather I am here. Too stuffy down there. Hello,
I’ll have a look for the fun of the thing.”

He saw a great, irregular hole in.the floor, crossed by
dozens of stout beams.

From this, only a few feet from the rafters, hung an
old bell.

It was not a large one, and it had not sounded in fifty
years.
of a past age and the old bell had been left to its silent,
undisturbed self for generations.

“It looks all O K,” thought Rover. “T’'ll just—gee—
there they are now; I’m’ right over the blooming mess.
This does take the cake.”’

In winding up the old side stairs and crawling along
under the rocks, he had gained the loft of the chapel and
the bell hole was just above, in the ceiling of the prayer
room.

It had once been used to call the festive worshipers,
and a worthy Indian high priest, standing in the big
reception room, could toll it with the aid of a rope.

Lying at full length in the dust, at the edge of the
flooring, Link could catch a sweeping and satisfactory
picture of all that was taking place below, and he had
every reason to feel the most lively interest. -

Around a raised slab of stone, once used as a sacrificial
altar upon which those accused of infidelity to the true
worship had been done to a turn, with al! the grace of
the Inquisition, hundreds of prayerful Indians were
kneeling.

A little fire built of pine knots sizzled to one side; there
were great heaps of good things, brought as a sacrifice
and as a gift to this immortal slab—presents of wine and
jugs of pulgue, mashed corn, strings of peppers, pottery,
fruit and trinkets.

The natives were dressed, for the most part, in beauti-
ful blankets.

It was a gorgeous pageant.

he could hear

THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY.

Some superstition was connected with this relic _

  

Link soon spotted | his own crowd. Sieh)

‘Lambert, true to his natural instincts, had edged his
way to the right of the sacrificial stone, and, while the
prayerful, kneeling Indians were busy at their beads, had
raised one of the jugs to his lips, It was filled with
pulque, and just suited him.

Link grinned as he saw Lambert engage in \ sly, nips
whenever the chance was presented.

Frogmore was holding Dolly Deane’s hand, just - to
show her she need have no fear; the professor was so in
sympathy with this religious fever that he had dropped
to his knees, with other worshipers, and, with bowed head
and open ears, took note of every detail. Jonsey stood -
far back, unobtrusively. .

Daddy was on the opposite side with eyes like saucers.

‘At first Link thought of pelting them all with bits of
plaster.

That seemed scarcely adequate.

He must invent a better plan.

It is not always easy to fake up a rousing lark, espe-
cially when the facilities are limited. That old loft was
not in league with him. It would require remarkable
ingenuity.

He was on the point of dropping all hope of a spree,
when something that dangled from the network of rafters
by the old bell caught his immediate attention.

It was a bit of rope—hard rope—rope that would never
decay, as it had been skilifully oiled.

“Well, why not?”

Again that old ripple of merriment played around the
corners of Link’s expressive mouth.

The inspiration was at hand.

He would give the superstitious festival people the scare
of their lives,

He would go beyond the possibilities of those decrepit
old images and those stones that had been used to warp,
and fry, and roast the petty enemies of a sect that needed
the combination hot griddle.

“We will now have a sweet selection from ‘The, Chimes:
of Normandy,’ Link muttered. “Am_I a comic opera?
Well, just ask me!”

It was dark up there.

The weave of rafters completely concealed his ee
as he labored.

It required some dexterity at that.

The rope was fastened, at one end, to the wooden hasp
of the old bell. It fitted into another crotch, and he found
that he could lift it free of its place.

_jJust a few preliminaries, and a parting squint below.

Brother Lambert had emptied one pulque jug, reached’
for a second, and had raised it to his lips with doubtful
success. This one did not contain the national drink. ~-

Some bereaved Indian, with perfectly good intent, had
filed a brown jug with some horrible medicine and had _

   

vB

  
   

 

 

  
 

 

 

   
 

 

  

 

   
  
   
  
  
   
   
  
 

 

 

   

_ brought it as a gift to the spirits.

 
 

It might drive away
devils.

Lambert took one awful swallow.

Link saw him spit a stream of medicine across the ~

room, catching a luckless worshiper full under the hair.
The American’s face was as decorative as a map of the
territorial industries of any one Mexican State.

He could stand native liquor, and even Mexican Scotch,
but when it came to stuff that would drive away devils,
he revolted.

All the more reason why he should be circumspect. -

The native with a drenching didn’t care about it either.

Nothing disturbed the prayerful attitude of the great
circle of Indians. With their blankets about their heads,
and their heads, in turned, pressed to the stones of the
floor, they jabbered, and moaned, and groaned, and told
the big chief all about their individual troubles. It was
touching, really.

Now for his first stroke.

The human comic opera was touching off the fuse.

He reached over and gave the clapper of the old bell a
smart jerk,

Dong—dingety dong—ding !

Can you imagine the result?

It was a well-known and established fact that the old
bell of the Dingos chapel had not been sounded in many
years.

The spirits had answered,

It was actually pealing.

Ding dong!

“Pussy is in the well, * warbled Rover.

He dodged back.

They were sure to look up, and he did not care to be
discovered just then.

This was but the curtain raiser of his operatic offering.

For all their prayer and all their religion, those natives
were seen to fall back in utter amazement, not willing to
believe that their ears had made a correct summary of
the sound. It could not be the bell. It just could not,
that was all.

The members of Link’s ewn party were not particularly
impressed. _

They did not know the secret of the old ioe long
silence.

Every native within twenty miles around had it by
heart.

The minute that oval of steel and brass entered in upon
town talk, and talked in a choked-up voice at that, they
thought they had been on their knees so long, their calls
had been answered.

Link remained dormant for a full minute.

Every eye was gazing upward at the bell,

Some one in authority made a move and the Indians

dipped to the floor again, more than ever-impressed with _

THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY.

   

g 21)

    

 

It was to save them from them-

the necessity of prayer.
selves.

Ding—ding—dongety dong! -

More native groans followed.

Ding—ding—ding!

“Ring three more fares there, conductor,” sang Link.

Rover had pushed the clapper for the fourth time with
fine results.

There were enough jangling echoes to disturb the peace
of that province.

The old chapel was alive with them.

Ding—ding—ding !

The peals were more expressive than at the start.

Dong ding—dong ding!

Shouts and: yells of terror.

Dongety dong!

Spellmier, standing with wide eyes and gaping mouth,
was in the path of certain devout Indians in their blan-
kets, who thought it might be a good idea to clear out
before the chapel tumbled about their heads. You could
never tell what was a likelihood when the spirits were
on the warpath.

The Dingos bell and clapper had donged.

Lambert, with a taste of devil medicine still violently
predominant, backed to an open window.

He laughed outright as three natives stumbled upon
Daddy Spellmier, mixing him up in their blankets, as they
were on the road to safety. .

It promised to be a gay party.

The circle of worshipful Indians scattered, all rising to
their feet’ as the old bell commenced another string of
shop talk, making up for’its prolonged silence.

This was not all.

A venerable old chap with a white blanket stood in the
center of the court and raised his hands aloft. He was
directly beside the sacrificial stone. -

Ding—dong—ding !

Clatter—bang !

The big bell, free of its moorings, reached down,
flaunted two or three times in a meditative mood, and
then struck Mr. Priest on the top of his head, amid a
string of discordant peals that could have oe heard at
Tazar’s tavern in the mountains.

 

CHAPTER. XI.
PAST PRECIPICE AND PITFALL.

The famous bell of Dingos chapel, beyond Guadalupe,
was acting as if under the direct control of evil spirits
instead of good.

The high priest of the Indian festival had been cracked

on his topknot.

He had been floored with no opposition. m
Dong—dong—dong !
The bell was talking in sober meter.
oe | . THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY.

_ “Saw my slats, these fools have gone daffy,” chokingly

shrieked Daddy, in the throes of three native blankets,
from which he was making every effort to extract him-
self. “If this is what they call
ful glad I’m a heathen.”

Dong ding!

The bell was still at it.

Something most amazing was in order.

After clipping off the old fellow, it swept upward once
more, suspended from its oiled rope, jangled about the
room in mid air and picked out other victims.

The majestic power of a demon was in swift pursuit.

In great sweeping circles the bell tolled.

It spoke its little piece of mind at the same time.

At every revolution its speed was increased until the
momentum was something to be dreaded. The Indians
crouched upon the floor, fearful, awe-stricken, crushed
by the magic power of another miracle.

Crack!

This time three worshipfuls had a share.

The bell toppled them over on their faces as if they
had been tenpins.

Ding—dingety dong—dong!

Link knew what he was about.

He had this jolly lark down to a science.

It was as easy as rolling off two greased logs, and he
gloried in it, for there was small chance of his ever being
discovered, a truth that added zest to the festive oc-
- casion.

How did he work it?

Easy enough.

The bell was not a heavy one, for all its size, and the
rope was long.

With one hand looped about his wrists, Link had al-
- lowed the free bell to slip downward. A few fancy whirls
and twists did the trick. Like a gigantic pendulum, the
bell circled in mid air, subject to his slightest command.

If he wanted to direct it to any particular location, it
was simply a case of luck and guidance.

He made his aim in every case.

By this time, his friends were fully aware of the fact
that something quite out of the ordinary was in progress,
and while they did not know that Link Rover had any-
thing to do with it, past experience, together with the fact
that Link was missing, gave them good grounds for
suspicion.

As we have said before, Prof. Snodgrass was down on
his knees.

Snod was extremely conscientious.

He believed in the old adage, “When you are in Rome,
do as the Romans do,” and, with this in view, he had made
himself popular by a series of prayers that were jewels
in their line.

When the bell began to ring, he was not disturbed in
the least.

worship, then I’m power- —

He naturally supposed that it was all San and SS
of the ceremony. pu

He remained on his knees.

Link could see him.

It was an excellent opportunity, you may be sure.

Link took immediate advantage of it. :

With old Snod bowing and scraping before a shone
bier upon which innocents had been fried alive, in their
own grease, there was room for the lesson every mortal
should learn.

Verily, thou shalt not be superstitious.

Around and around the great bell was sailing.

The Indians had'scattered as one man.

Snod’s impressive posterior was in full view.

Link saw it.

“Here is where I make the bell peal out another
declaration of independence,” Link muttered, with a grin.
“T don’t like to strike Snod when he is down, but Pll risk
it. Gere sues.)

How true was his aim?

Biff—bang ! :

The bell did things to that portion of the professor’s —
anatomy directly in line with it—the point of least re-
sistance, don’t you know. With a howl of sudden terror,
Snod bowled over, as the bell struck him, and he went
sprawling like a clumsy bear, on all fours, right into a —
nest of already frightened Indians, scattering them to

‘left and right—a human catapult, if you please.

He tried to get upon his feet.

He couldn’t do it. i

Wherever Snod in terror fated. the bell was sure to
go. It followed him bent on trouble, banging into his
framework, chattering his very teeth, giving him a taste
of a musical inferno before his time. ;

“Stop—stop it!’ the professor yelled.

The bell was on every hand.

It circled around his head, and with a powerful jab, its
clapper busy all the while, it sent him spinning into the
lap of a mother Indian, who did not Tecogmnes the man
of science as one of her children. —

Link was working overtime.

It was hot labor, up there among the webs and the
spiders, and foot deep in dust, manipulating that rope,
upon the end of which whirled a heavy bell. He could
not do it forever.

“Now for all the little pansy pldconae!

He gave more slack to the ae and added an era
twist.

With bellowing notes, the bell swept the circle of the
room and clipped off natives with every rotary motion.
Indians were given knockout blows that should have
punched the superstition out of them, if nothing more.

It was not without remarkable results.

Link had been ates with his two feet on the sup-
porting beams. © ae

 
  

 

  

San

 
  
  
  

 

*- Grack!>

That was an ominous sound.

He did his best to prevent the eels. but es in
vain.

With a last final clatter of discordant peals, the bell and

rope swept downward, and Link, meshed by circum-

stance and poor timber, shot into see
He could not prevent it,
“Fin falling

Certainly he was.

Danger had linked arms with Fun.

It was to be a full-fledged fight with danger tae that
second on, and no one was in a position to understand it
better than Link Rover himself, precipitated to the floor,
in the midst of many Indians, who might now see that
this continuous round of trouble had all been the direct
result of an American’s boisterous desire for fun at their
expense.

Dust besprinkled, gasping for breath, laden with much
regret and sore in every limb, Rover sprang to his feet,

the rope twisting all about him, and the last echo of the .

old Dingos bell pealing its farewell chorus.

The game had been called.

His hand was open for inspection.

In the midst of this turmoil of terror, for the natives
were bent on revenge and were drawing knives, Link
saw Lambert, a hero now, as if in a cloud, sweep past
him, snatch Dolly from cruel hands and carry her from
the chapel.

The American’s last words were typical of him.

“The drinks are on me if I don’t care for the young
lady,” Link heard him growl, and the lad was satisfied.

Rover himself, tangled in the full length of rope, was
swept outward by the angry mob. He saw, as ina dream,
his own kith and kin, and comradeship, gather about him,
as they hustled down the big ree and gained the open
ground.

Another joke had gone wrong!
~ Intensely incensed over the grim joke that yaa been

’ perpetrated, the savages were on the warpath, and in.

flashing colors.

They were ripe for revenge.

“This way, fellows!’

Fighting with the snakelike rope, Link sped straight
up the opposite slope that led to the mountains.

-It- was a case of immediate flight.

Just now his irregular duties were centered. upon a
definite cause.

Dolly was safe. ~

If he did not attract attention to her by his own pres-
erice, it was ten to one that Lambert would make good;
that he would do what Link and all his wits might never
accomplish.
It was best to leave the girl to him.

THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY.

         

a

Ahead, ever ahead, leoreed the crags, and slopes, and
shining heights of the mountains.

That was their course.

They all made a quick turn and gained the first terrace.

It was not a very agreeable course, this trail he mapped
on his own will, but as he saw himself backed by Jonsey,
Frog, Snod and Daddy, and caught a glint of gleaming
knives, he knew it was their sole hope.

Up the rugged path they panted.

Banded together, and in the face of a thousand perils,
Link Rover and his desperate, little crowd made their
way, stopping to send a shot backward over the heads of
the mob, alert, watchful, knowing that death lurked to
the rear, over crag and gully, past peril and precipice,
yet ever upward, they made their harrowing path, until
the valley was green again in the evening glow, and the
chapel of the Dingos loomed a solitary speck on the
landscape.

 

CHAPTER pci ne
ROVERS HUMAN WHIPLASH.

“How is it, Daddy?”

“T’d like to scalp you, Lincoln Rover.”

“And why such a hair-raising episode ?”

“You put us in a ee, bum- badgered hole.”

“T didn’t mean to.”

“Saw my slats, you never do, but that doesn’t make it
agreeable or give a real excuse. I fully expect to be cut
to pieces by some of these people before I go far. A
Mexican is a Mexican and.a Spaniard 1 is a Spinish—both
have hot blood.”

“That was because we made it warm for them.”

“Oh, you will have your joke, but it doesn’t make this
affair pleasant, I will say. Can’t we cut these ropes
now ?”

“T don’t think so.”

Daddy Spellmier had just flopped down upon a mass of
stone, gasping for breath. He could not do any funny
gimcracks, for the simple reason that it would have made
it disagreeable for his companions.

Link had suggested a wise scheme.

Scaling those perilous crags Lee the mountain was dan-
gerous for one. :

In unity there was strength.

Therefore the suggestion.

Using the old rope from the belfry, he had made oS
tie each other in an endless chain.

If one slipped, the next in order could save him.

~The rocks were slippery; the path one of continual
dread. :
Tt was an Alpine stunt. ;
First came Roland Frogmore, with the rope knotted
about his waist, Daddy ditto, then Prof. Snodgrass, and,
last of all, Leonidas Jones.

  
It was a fantastic combination.

It had required some rattling, quick work to escape
from those angry natives, but Link’s guidance, in times
of danger, was as alert as in funny episodes, and they

- were comparatively safe. Link’s sole fear was on Dolly’s
account.

How had Lambert fared?

The lad had infinite trust in the big American.

He would hold his own in any event.

From their present position, it was possible to see the
sweep of the valley, its houses, its haciendas, its grain
fields, and its forests—a very pretty and entrancing pic-
ture spread out before them, miles beneath.

The ascent of the mountain had been made in safety.

How far from Tazar’s inn they were, who could tell?

Now a halt for rést was ae called.

Daddy needed it.

He was “plum tuckered, don’t you know,” while Frog-
more, always a sufferer from violent exercise, had been
grunting until they were all weary of hearing the oe
of his voice.

It was no small task to approach actual comfort, ar-
ranged as they were.

Link had tied them all together.

If Spellmier wanted-to stray off on a grassy knoll, up
there amid the clouds, he was suddenly called to account
by his comrades, to whom he was bound by ee greasy
rope.

“We may have more climbing to do, you can’t tell,’
Link advised. “I would leave the rope on for a while.”

He himself was free.

Naturally so.

You would never catch Link tangled up in a scheme of
that kind, safety or no. He did not like the very thought
of captivity, and it amounted to that, for, if one moved,
the other must necessarily do so.

“T think I will go ahead a few yards and see what the
chances are,” suggested Link. It was not a bad idea, for
the excitement in the valley had grown to great propor-
tions. They could see tiny figures scurrying this way
and that around the chapel. It would not take long to
circulate\the report of the desecration of the ceremony,
and all natives would be on the lookout for the party.

- As his friends rested Link Rover ferreted in advance.

He went over a dip of ground and finally came to a
very interesting fortification, or, at least, he judged it to
be as much,

The place had been impressive once.

It was now a mass of ruins.

An old fortress, on the brow of a hill, it was fitted out
with an antiquated drawbridge, chains and all, a moat,
with stagnant water, and seemed a bit of ancient history,
set amid the mountains.

UL ke this) : .

Link was awake once more.

THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY.

He sought entrance. - ae.

Laying claim to interest, because of past performances,
and usually producing tax from all who entered, the for-
tress, laden with moss and reeking with Spanish lore, held
many remarkable mysteries.

Link went the rounds.

He met the natives in charge and had a chat with ; an

old man, gray-headed, whose black cat assisted him in all
martial and financial matters.

Shortly after his initial investigation, Link returned to
his friends. : ,

His face was capped by the usual expression of good
nature. :

There was something in the air.

Link was built along peculiar lines. If there was no
fun, there was no life naturally. Danger simply added
spice, laughter formed the real gruel that gave bodily
sustenance. ,

His companions needed warming up after their climb.

He would give it to them. .

“I say there, all of you, come on,” Link sang. “I’ve
discovered the real thing in relics. This one looks as if it
had been sliced from a school history or a museum. We

will, ah, humph, eee: in the name of Prof, ee

grass—and science.’

There was still another good reason.

Night was coming on as if some one stood back of the
mountain and was giving it a push. They could not tell
just how far they were from Tazar’s tavern, and a dip
into the valley was a hazard that they did not welcome.

When the Indian gets his dander up in Mexico, he will
do you some harm. He doesn’t want his religion, or his
idols, or his family, interfered with, and this slow-to-
anger specimen rises in his wrath like the trodden worm.

It was to be hoped that Mr. Lambert and Dolly were
well out of harm’s way by this time.

“What 1s it, Lincola?”

“No more fooling, don’t you know.”

“Tam extraordinarily tired, but if the place you men-

tion will be of value from a scientific point of view, I ‘

shall be only too glad to observe its features.”

“T-T-Take off the r-r-rr-ropes,” pleaded Jonsey.

Not quite on the minute.

This would never do.

“Just leave it on until we get up there, Jones,”’ Link re-
plied. “I’ve passed the road, and theré are some crack-
ing bad places in it. Not a bad idea, ahyway; keeps
us all together; you can wait.” 4

Those patient little mountain burros. Didn’t he have
them trained to perfection?

A ten-minute trudge brought them to a shelf of rock.

and green grass, from whence they could see the big
fortress with ease. It was fully as unique as Link had
promised it would be, with a quaint drawbridge, raised

by enormous rusty chains; odd little towers, a real nioat _

    
   

 
   
 
 

    
%

 
  

(

!
ij
)

i
i

  

in which placid scum rested, and a lounging population

‘serapes along.

of peons and harmless Indians, who would tell three hun-
dred different stories about the same place for the frac-
tion of a real,

“Tf you ask me,” said Link, “I think we had best make
some arrangement to stay right here for the night. Gee,
it’s getting infernally cold, and we did not bring our
| It would mean death to tramp over these
icy mountains after dark. What do you say?’

“We should be able to find another inn, or even the
one we have already patronized, Tazar’s place, where our
luggage is,’ suggested Prof. Snodgrass, with a frown.
“Is this section so uncivilized that one must sleep on a

- pile of crumbling stones?”

“It isn’t as bad as all that, professor,’ Link chipped
in. “I am working-on a logical basis. I have no doubt
but what Lambert and Dolly will make every attempt to
follow us up here, by a circuitous route—we should be
somewhere in the vicinity. I know what I’m talking
about.”

“Perhaps you do.”

At all events, the vote was taken, and they were com-
pelled to agree that Link’s argument was a strong one.

Night would sweep the range in a short while.

They had no adequate means of travel, other than by
foot—a tiresome and tedious undertaking, especially after
what had already occurred.

Then, too, it might not be safe to trust to any of those
natives when it came to the selection of a euide.

Had the wings of the night brought news of their
chapel escapade?

Our friends were truly in a maze of discomfort and
apprehension.

Link did not share in this to any alarming extent.

He would look on the shiny, silver side of the cloud.-

“How can we get into the fortress,” Link asked, inno-
cently, of an old Mexican, bending over his staff. There
were two or three like him, and they seemed to be wait-
ing for something, expecting something. It was not a
case of “tip,” for Link Rover had handed out enough
small coin to make them smile a week.

There was pointing and sniffing and gesticulation.

houre thing.”

Link knew, or thought he did.,

“Over the drawbridge, of course,” the lad declared, as
he motioned to his companions. “All right, Frogmore,
you go first. When you are inside we'll free you folks
of your bondage. That rope has been the means of

‘saving lives to-day, you needn’t tell me it has not.”

7

“Ts the bally old bridge safe?” whipped back Froggie.
“Bum-badger me, if I like the looks of it,” added

- Daddy.

“Tt is a very old one,” observed Prof. Snodgrass.
“M-m-mmm-might f-fall,” ended Jonsey.

“Oh, you dunces, watch me; I’m not afraid.

THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY. | | ae

It leads

     

 

across to the door and is lowered just as it was in the
olden days, when real and true brave hearts were not

afraid to dare things. See, isn’t it strong?’

Link had scampered out from the edge of the bank —
onto the drawbridge and almost to the gaping black aoe
of the old building.

It did not even budge an inch.

The grim chains creaked a trifle and that was all.

This somewhat reassured them.

They did not like to be madé out cowards, and that
was what Link Rover had called them individually.

There were triumphant tosses of the head.

“G-go on, F-Frogmore.”

This from Leonidas at the end of Link’s human whip-
lash.

No, longer did the fat English boy hesitate.

Straw-foot, hay-foot, forward, march!”

Young Rover nimbly ran back and Frog approached
and stood at a safe distance, watching his little army with
sparkling eyes. :

“Fine; you keep perfect cep”

“We look like a chain gang, don’t we?” asked Spell-
mier.

“Or the tail of a blooming kite,” said Frog.

He reached the edge of the moat and had put out one
foot to step upon it—he—did—the foot landed, was as
suddenly whirled upward, dragging his entire body along,
and Roland, in order to save himself from tumbling into
the water-filled moat, grabbed the edge of the bridge.

The rattling old affair had whizzed up.

CHAPTER, X1TT

2. NIGHT AT: “ROVER FORTRESS.’

Although laying claim to a number of years of servi-
tude, that ancient drawbridge over the moat was still
in working order.

There was nothing the matter with the chain service.
. Unlike most old things, it did not suffer with rheuma-
tism,

Link had found this out, because, after the payment
of a few reals, a native had hoisted it for him, displayed
the internal, infernal mechanism, and promised to carry
out the show a second time when the young gentleman. ©
should give the order.

Link’s whistle cooked four nice geese.

They were in a fine position.

Up, up, up went the bridge.

It was fully nine feet from its resting place on the

edge of the stones, and Roland Frogmore, hanging on
for the dear life of him, felt as if the universe tugged
at his waist.

This was fairly well true.

Daddy, and Snod, and Jonsey counted for something.

They all depended upon Frogmore’s hold upon the
edge of the bridge.

Could he keep up the racket ?

%

  
   
 

 

26 | THE YOUNG

 

“Help! Help! Saw my slats, I’m falling!” screeched
Spellmier, as he threw his arms madly around the fat
body of Froggie. He had just caught a glint of that
greenish, water in the moat and it was not to his liking.

Rover was dancing up and down.

“Most unfortunate; very, very unfortunate,’ he
shouted.

The natives were grinning.

“S-t-ash-it- it- there,” blurted Roland, “I’m slipping—
I can’t hold on another minute. You—you fel-lows are
too much for me. Cut the rattling rope, don’t you know.”

Would they do it? Well, rather not.

t would simply mean that three of their number would

go plank down. into the moat, to meet new dangers and

tribulations that were not in line with popular approval.

Frogmore was foolish.

He was selfishly thinking of his own safety alone.
Just like him.

“Why don’t you climb up?’ called Link.

“Climb what?” blurted Frog.

The ‘bridge.’

“How can—can I?

Posh enn .on, ©

The very idea. They were all tied together in one
long string by the rope, still knotted about their waists.
Link Rover was certainly talking through his hat, and it
wasn't straw either.

Now Jonsey’s feet were playing tag with the stone
coping at the edge of the moat.

He knew that he would slip off in a second.

’ Prof. Snodgrass kicked his long legs in the air, and
did things to Daddy that were not in keeping with com-
fort. Daddy was receiving whacks that were not his
by right of law, but Snod couldn’t help it. He wanted
to be free and easy once more,

What was he doing but trying to climb up the rope
that led from his waiste,

You couldn’t expect anything more of a real scientist.

Frogmore had his hands full.

“It’s .a bally shame, don’t. you know,” he shouted, be-
tween gasps. “I will fall in another rattling minute;

have the bridge lowered.

_ No one seemed to know how to do it.

They stood about, laughing.

Link couldn’t keep back the grins himself.

He knew very well that there was a well-satisfied peon
beyond the moat, concealed from view, who could mani-
pulate those chains and do very much as he pleased with
the frightened crew at its extremity.

There was no good reason to call it off now.

0.
They’re hanging onto me.”

By dint of much strenuous exertion, Roland Frogmore

got one knee over the edge of the planks, and, with his
arms tangled up in it, managed to hold his own.

He was partly holding everyone else at the same time.

That was where the terror of the situation came in.

Jonsey was placed in a peculiarly hazardous position.

Ele was holding to the edge of the rocks by his shoes,
and each gyration. from his friends above sent him further
and further away from any possible link of safety.

Daddy managed to turn, in his wriggles, and caught
a swift view of | Rover, laughing generously.

“You young scallywag,” he blustered, “Ill stake my
last string of sausages that you fixed this thing up for

39

us.’

“It would be—just—just like him,” ek in Prof. Sting:
grass.

    

    

xs ROVER LIBRARY.

strait.
don’t you know. I say, there, Spellmier, you have a
bally hug like a bear. I’m strangling.”

And Daddy only had him by, the waist. *

Daddy didn’t let go.

It would have made no enact change in affairs if

he had, for the rope was doing the business.
Creak! crack!

Up spraddled the old drawbridge, a few more files

It was not high above its original resting place, and Jon-
sey, unable to longer hold the stones, suffered defeat
with a wild how! of fright.’

Down the whip rang cries of alarm.

They were snappy and vibrating, just as if Link had
touched off a firecracker and the little red dabs of fuss
were exploding, one at,a time.

“Stash it! stash it! I can’t hold on any one

“Bum-badger your hide, don’t you let go!”

“Extraordinarily unfortunate!”

“W-w-w-w-w-wait !”

{??

The peons were nearly killing themselves with laughter.

Crack !- crack!

The bridge was on the go again, and if it did not stop
there would be injured noggins against the stones, as it
struck its upright position. - Link “had not bargained on
this. He had given strict instruction to frighten the
fellows, and that was all.

Mexico didn’t understand.

Just as long as he could, Frogmore proved the hero,
but when it is realized that by his own sublime strength
he was fairly holding up all the gang, it may be very
well understood that this sort of thing could not go on
forever.

As the creaking bridge attained another painful angle,
his fat hands gave way, his face wrinkled into an ex-
pression of despair, and the whiplash popped downward.

The water in the moat was not deep.

It was questionably fresh, however.

The splash could have been heard at the chapel of the
Dingos.

All fastened together, those four unfortunates bounded
knee deep into slush that made Link Rover gurgle with
regret over an accident that he himself had not pre-
meditated. |

His friends were in a bad hole now.

At first, they were united in the opinion that they
would never get out alive. That was because their first
idea of the moat agreed upon depth, great depth. Linked
into a kindred spirit of misery, how would they ever
swim ?

That they tried*to do so made it all the more comical.

Daddy, who was an expert, struck out to right and
left.

He came to a smart stop as the rope tightened and
about a barrel of rich, yellow mud was. slung back into
the professor’s wry face. ,

That ended Snod’s intention of trying the side str oke,

Frogmore yelled and paddled.

Jonsey, at the end, tried to climb up the sides of the
wall and found it an utter impossibility, with all the
crowd tacked onto him.

Rover. saw the crying need of refreshments,

Peons were called to his aid.

Like dripping rats, Frog, Snod, Daddy and Leonidas
were poled from the ‘foul moat, each muttering impreca-

Men me go,’ howled Froggie, in a desperate
“I’m not supposed. to lift the blooming bunch, —

  

    

==

Se

f
|

   
    
   
  

 

Sn

  

 

ee oe ~

tion upon the head of a boy who was at once, the very

best and the very worst specimen on the top side of
earth.

It had grown dark now.

In one of the damp cells of the old fortress, a fire
was kindled, and about its red glow the unfortunates
gathered.

Not until Link had told his own side of the story and
Spellmier had all but walloped the life out of a helpless
native, did the little band agree to accept our hero as
an adequate and consistent member of the aggregation.

Dripping and grumbling, they shook their fists at him
and vowed the vengeance of the infernal, for his joke.

Nearly an hour afterward, with garments dry and
ruffled tempers but slightly appeased, they all ventured
upon one of the stone porches of the grand old fortress.

It offered an excellent view of the surrounding moon-
swept valley, the hills and the expanse of picturesque
landscape.

Link was leaning upon a rugged parapet, when sounds
were heard along a rocky road that led upward from
the valley.

“Who goes there?” he hailed, somewhat suspiciously,
for he could not trust the Indians of the lower country.

There was a painful silence for some moments, fitted
in with the “pant-pant” of small burros, laboring against
the incline.

Then, crisply upon the night, flashed back the pertinent
response:

“Tink, Link Rover, I’ll never speak to you again!”

‘Why, it’s Dolly!” Rover gasped.

 

CHAPTER XIV,

TERROR AND A-—TRIUMPH.

“Brother Lambert,” said Link, as that worthy, still in
his blustering Sahara hat, jumped to the warmth of the
fortress fire, “I think you are a brick.”

“Do you? Well, I like that,” snapped Lambert, throw-
ing open his coat and grinning. “Which means that I
am tather a hard customer, don’t it? I wish I could
drink to the health of the party—just a drop, you know—
just a tickler, but ’ and he gave a mournful sigh,
“this region is as dry as a log, and my dress-suit case is
at the tavern.”

They were all intent persons, as the American with a
thirst told of his escape, with Dolly, from the irate na-
tives, and their flight up the mountain on hired burros,
night or no night, to join the others.

A chance had been taken, and it had won out.

“Have you any idea where we are?” asked Link.

Lambert smiled again.

“Sure I have. Mining is my business, and I know a
little of the country. Tazar’s tavern lies about two miles
up the mountain road. Why not walk it to-night?”

“No—no—no !”

Cries to the contrary from all sides. They were well
warn out.

“But,” thundered Lambert, “I’m worried about—er—a
—that dress-suit case of mine.”

Link flashed him a quick look.

“Why, sir?” he inquired.

There was a note of hesitation—of doubt, expressed in
the American’s face. He was obviously worried.
~ “T don’t mind the bottle,” he said, “although, I must

 

¢

THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY. ee

?
confess, real brandy is a thing to be prized up here; and

I don’t mind my personal goods—but—that Japanese,
Mr. Koko—lI’ve told you of him—well, old Koko put
something of his own in the case—something worth while.
He did it because he was afraid of a certain party that
followed him everywhere. Now that I think of it, I
guess it must be that infernal Spaniard we ‘rough-
housed’ at the tavern. I gave him my word that I'd
be mighty careful.”

Link was more than ever impressed.

So were the others.

“Do you know what it was?” he asked. ,

“No, not the faintest idea. He just slipped in the
stuff and said he wanted it there until the clouds cleared.
There were real enemies on every side. I didn’t give it
a second thought, for why—I—I liked Keo and was
willing to do him the favor.”

“What a fool you were.”

“T know it, to leave the case at the tavern, in my room;
however, it should be safe.”

Link did not think so.

“Pm off to the tavern to-night,” he said, grimly.

There were shouts of disapproval, especially as Link
had sprained his ankle at the moat, and was in no condi-
tion physically tovundertake such a trip. The knife stab
in Cuba had left him temporarily weak.

“T must go,” he said, with decision.

Dolly led in a violent tirade against this risk. ;

“For my sake, you will not go,” she cried. * Please,
Link, if you care about me at all, do not. I ask it as a
real favor.’

They talked it all over on the top parapet, with the
moon full in their faces.

An adjustment was reached.

In order to keep peace in the family, Frogmore and
Jonsey were to mount the patient little burros and go
to the inn. If it was at all possible, they would come
directly back, bringing that troublesome dress-suit case
with them. They consented, to prevent Link from go-
ing, for they saw that the lad was not in a condition to
attempt the hard struggle.

Rover himself, with nagging fears ‘and resentment,
watched the two as they mounted the hardy burros and
set off in the moonlight up the mountain path.

“Dolly,” he whispered, in a troubled way, “af it had
not been for you, I—I—well, I just would not consent
to-it, thats alle”

But Dolly had won.

An hour passed, and Rover, still turbulent in spirit,
had walked up to the outer parapet of the fortress, the
others having found some seclusion and rest by the fire.
He walked irritably up and down the cold path between
the walls, with an aggravated sense of having made a
mistake.

He knew it was so.

Stopping by the further shelf, that could have been
reached from the moat wall by a jump, he gasped with
sudden astonishment.

Scattered in profusion along the slabs were strips of
red paper—strips he had seen before—and knew ; the
devil papers of Keo Koko—those dread sleep potions in
paper. ;

The Japanese had spied upon them.

He had heard the talk—knew that some one had been
sent to the inn for the case, and would intercept them.
Since his flight from the tavern, frightened to cowardice

  

     
ca * : \
‘THE YOUNG ROVER LIBRARY.
™, x

by the presence of Link and Diablo, he had been in
hiding. |

Now he knew that his property was in n danger.

Link could see the yellow rascal footing it across the
mountain.

_ Frog and Jonsey would be in peril, and he must fly to
their assistance.

Saying no word, the lad dropped over the wall, gained
the moat stones by a prodigious jump, and was ‘off into
the night, flushed of face, and with a heart that bumped
a tumultuous tattoo against his ribs.

* * ok * * * *

With strained eyes and nerve-racked body, Link Rover
halted at the turn of the road to Tazar’s tavern.

He was within a stone’s throw of the place, and knew
it, for lights shone ahead and there was a babel of excited
voices,

How would his venture win out?

“Some one is having a scrap,’ he muttered to hic
self,

Every evidence of it was in the air,

He peered around the great wall of the cliff that
loomed to his left and watched.

Padre Diablo stood in the middle of the moonlit road,
his collar thrown open and. a pistol in either hand. Their
snapping reports, together with a spatter of bullets against
the rocks, told Link that he was firing upon some one.

That some one was Keo Koko!

‘As Link’s eyes became more accustomed to the semi-
gloom, he saw the Japanese, less than twenty yards away,
face downward among the bowlders, where he had top>
pled, struck by a stray bullet. He was still holding a
tell-tale dress-suit case in his stiffening fingers.

Retribution at last.

With theft over his own head, he had been mysteriously
followed by Padre, who wanted to get Link’s strange
legacy, the secret of which was held by Mr. Lambert’s
piece of luggage.

Over land and sea, the villainous Spaniard had trailed,
and Keo knew that it was a relentless enemy he faced
on this night.

He feared Padre more than death itself.

It was Rover’s time to do or to die!

He realized that.

Snatching his revolver from his pocket, he let Padre
have its full and unstinted benefit, until the air rang, and,
most opportunely, Frogmore and Leonidas Jones swung
from the other end of the road, equally well armed.

Diablo had not a single hope.

He dashed down the south slope of the road, with bul-
lets whistling around his ears. The game was up.

Now for the Japanese!

Rover was the first to gain his side. He had no eyes
for his companions. He simply understood that, after
reaching the tavern and finding the goods gone, they
had started back on the return trail. Keo had been too
quick for them. He had gone before, captured his prize,
and was only prevented from making a safe escape by
the unexpected appearance of the watchful Diablo, al-
ways on the scent.

A natural fight followed.

“We have you, you yellow rat!’

No response from the Japanese.

As Rover turned the now motionless figure of Keo
to the full strength of the moonlight, he saw, not only

a bloody trail upon his shirt, but the brow was festooned

with one of his own red strips.

He was quite dead.

Cornered, outwitted, with death already in sight, Keo
had administered a little of his own medicine.

The long struggle, the struggle against Link, when,
realizing that Diablo was rampant on his trail, ‘he had
caught the Spaniard asleep in the hotel at Mexico City,
and had tried to put him out of the way; the later episode
with Dolly, whom, he knew, was with Link, and a watch-
ful little person—all, all, was at an end.

The rope had been cut by fate.

From the nerveless fingers, Link Rover snatched ae
dress-suit case.

It was heavy with the weight of a mystery. |

“What is it, anyway, don’t you know?’ stammered
Frogmore.

“p d |-l- ke t-to k- oa” panted Jonsey.

They both clattered up, dragging their burros after
them. The night had not been free from annoyances
and dangers on their own account.

Link stood, silhouetted against the barren rocks, in the

~ moonlight, facing them, his hat off and his arms ex-

tended, as they raised the case from its death grip.

“Guess we're about headed the other way now, fel-
lows,’ was his deliberate answer.

There were cries of interrogation.

“B-but s-say,”’ interposed Jonsey, “we we w-w-w-want

122

t-to k-know!

“Yes,” said Froggie, with a wondering expression, “we
want to see what it is, don’t you know. It’s bally mean
of you; Link!’

Rover smiled in a weary way. -

“T’ve got my legacy, right here,” he replied, coolly,
shaking the dress-suit case. “It will keep. 11! open
her up . in. the morning. Then we shall all*know. As it
is, ’m deuced tired. Let’s go, go home.”

The lad shook his head as they grumbled further.

“No, I realize when I get enough; it will keep. Noth-
ing doing until to-morrow. Then, just in honor of my
triumph, “Vl give a grand blow out. Come on.”

No amount of urging could dissuade him.

His pals were compelled to give it up, and, mounted
on their burros, they followed him down the mountain
path.

“Say,’ sputtered Frogmore, angry by now,
you want to make it so bally tantalizing.”

Link flippantly twisted the handle of Mr. Lambert’s
dress-suit case, as if it contained nothing more important
than a flask of whisky.

“You see,” he returned, looking out across the moon-
lit valley, “it’s just like this. Ive decided to let Dolly ~
open our case!”

And there was nothing more to say.

“why do

THE END,

It would be extremely bad form to disclose every
whit of mystery developed by Link’s Mexican adventures
in the present number, and those who wish to follow his
further exploits, before and after Mr. Lambert's mys-

' terious dress-suit case was opened, must insist upon get-

ting the succeeding issue of the library, “Link Rover
Among the Fire Wors shippers; or, A Dating Deal for
Diaz,” out next week, It’s the real thing.

oe

 

 
 

 

Containin g the Most Unique and Fascinating
Tales of Western Romance SPs

 

 

419—Diamond Dick’s Specter; or, The Phantom
that Won Out.

420—Diamond Dick’s Pay Car; or, Foiling the
Hatchet- -Boys.

421—Diamond Dick in Grubstake; or, How the
Trappers Were Trapped.

422—Diamond Dick and the Bond Thieves; or,
Handsome Harry’s Barrel of Trouble.

423—Diamond Dick, Jr.’s, Mid-Air Battle; or
The Death Trail of beeretne ore
Strikes.

424—Diamond Dick, Jr., and the Black-Hands;
or, On the Trail of the Freebooters.

425—Diamond Dick’s Lone Hand; or, A Game
of Tag at the Tin Cup Ranch,

426—Diamond Dick, Jr., and the ‘Knock Down”

Men; or, A Mix-Up at Forty Miles an
Hour.

427—Diamond Dick, Jr.’s, Switch-off; or, A
Close Shave at Razor Gap. -

428—Diamond Dick’s Christmas Gift; or, A Full
House at Pocomo.

429—Diamond Dick Among the Mail Bags; or,
A Round with the Postal Grafters.

430—Handsome Harry’s Hard Fight; or, The

- Queer Mystery of the Five Ace Gang.

431—Handsome Harry on the Wolf’s Trail; or,
The Train Robber’s Ambush.

432—Handsome Harry’s Strangle Hold; or, The
Pretty Demon of the Rockies.

433—Handsome Harry’s Quickest Shot; or,
Drawing the Sting from a Gila.

434—Handsome Harry’s Trump Card; or, The

Bad Man from Texas.

435—Handsome Harry’s Lightning Stroke; or,
The Mutineers of Misery Gulch.

436—Handsome Harry’s Fierce Game; or, The
Moonshiner’s Oath.

_ 437—Handsome Harry in Chinatown; or, The
Highbinders’ Crimson Compact.
438—Handsome Harry in the Bad Lands; or, A

Fight for Life in the Bandit Belt.
439—Diamond Dick, Jr.’s, Castle in the Air; or,
The Deadly Duel with Riatas.

440—Diamond Dick, Jr., and the Fire Bugs; or,

The Ten-Strike at Lallakoo.

 

441—Handsome Harry’s Iron Hand; or, Solving
a Great Diamond Mystery.

442—Handsome Harry’s Treasure Hunt; or,
Three Old Tramps from Tough Luck.

443—Handsome Harry’s Steel Trap; or, A Run-
ning Fight in the Rockies.

444—Handsome Harry with a Hard Crowd; or,
A Blow-up on the Mississippi.

445—Handsome Harry’s Big Round-up; or, The
Beauty of Chimney Butte.

446—Handsome Harry in the Big Range; or,
Hey, Rube, in Arizona.

447—-Diamond Dick’s Ghostly Trail; or, The
Phantom Engine of Pueblo.

448—Diamond Dick’s Boy Hunt; or, The Kid-
napers of the Sierras.

449—Diamond Dick’s Sure Throw; or, The
Broncho Buster’s Last Ride.

450—Diamond Dick’s Fight for Honor; or, The
Wizard Gambler.

451—Diamond Dick Afloat; or, The Pirates of
the Pacific.

452—-Diamond Dick’s Steeple Chase; or, The
Leap That Won the Race.

453—-Diamond Dick’s Deadly Peril; or, A Fight
for Life in the Rapids.

454—Diamond Dick’s Black Hazard; or, The

_ Feud at Roaring Water.

455—Diamond Dick’s Darkest Trail; or, The Se-
cret of the Haunted Mine.

456—Diamond Dick’s Desperate Dash; or, A
Rough Ride through Montana.

457-—-Diamond Dick’s Secret Foe; or, Nightwolf,
the Red Terror.

458—Diamond Dick’s Center Shot; or, A Hoo-
rah at\the Golden Gate.

459—Diamond Dick’s Blind Lead; or, The Rus-
tlers of Sandy Gulch.

460—Diamond Dick’s Cool Thrust; or, The Trail
of The Silent Three.

461—Diamond Dick’s Swiftest Ride; or, Won by
the Pony Express.

462—Diamond Dick in the Desert; or, The Shot-
Gun Messenger from Fargo.

463—Diamond Dick’s Deadliest Foe; or, A Fight
with a Destroying Angel.

 

 

 

 

All of the above numbers always on hand. If you cannot get them from your
mewsdealer, five cents per copy will bring them to you by mail, postpaid.

STREET

& SMITH, Publishers,.79-89 Seventh Ave., NEW YORK

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

23—Ted Strong’s Indian Trap; or, Matching
Craft with Craft.
24—Ted Strong’s Signal; or, Racing with Death.
25—Ted Strong’s Stamp Mill; or, The Woman
in Black.
26—Ted Strong’s Recruit; or, A Hidden Foe.
27—Ted Strong’s Discovery; or, The Rival
Miners.
28—Ted Strong’s Chase; or, The Young Rough
Riders on the Trail.
29—Ted Strong’s Enemy; or, An Uninvited
Guest,
30—Ted Strong’s Triumph; or, The End of the
Contest.
-31—Ted Strong in Nebraska; or, The Trail to
Fremont.
- 32—Ted Strong in Kansas City; or, The Last of
the Herd.
33—The Rough Riders in Missouri; or, In the
Hands of His Enemy.
34—The Young Rough Riders in St. Louis; or,
The League of the Camorra.
35—The Young Rough Riders in Indiana; or,
The Vengeance of the Camorra.
36—The Young Rough Riders in Chicago; or,
Bud Morgan’s Day Off.
37—The Young Rough Riders in Kansas; or,
The Trail of the Outlaw.
38—The Young Rough Riders in the Rockies; or,
Fighting in Mid Air.
39—The Young Rough Rider’s Foray; or, The
Mad Horse of Raven Hill.
40—The Young Rough Rider’s Fight to the

Death; or, The Mad Hermit of Bear’s:

Hole.

41—The Young Rough Rider’s Indian Trail; or,
Okanaga, the Cheyenne,

42—The Young Rough Rider’s Double; or, Un-
masking a Sham.

43—The Young Rough Rider’s Vendetta ; or, The
House of the Sorceress.

44——Ted Strong in Old Mexico; or, The Haunted
Hacienda.

45—The Young Rough Rider in California; or,
The Owls of San Pablo.

46—The Young Rough Rider’s Silver Mine; or,
The Texas Giant.

47—-The Young Rough Rider’s Wildest Ride; or,
Cleaning Out a Whole Town.

 

48—The Young Rough Rider’s Girl Guide; or,
The Maid of the Mountains.

49—The Young Rough Rider’s Handicap; or,
Fighting the Mormon Kidnapers.

50—The Young Rough Rider’s Daring Climb;
or, The Treasure of Copper Crag.

51—The Young Rough Rider’s Bitterest Foe; or,
The Challenge of Capt. Nemo.

52—The Young Rough Rider’s Great Play; or,
The Mad Ally of a Villain.

53——lThe Young Rough Rider Trapped; or, A
Villain’s Desperate Play.

54—The Young Rough Rider’s Still-Hunt; or,
The Mystery of Dead Man’s Pass.

55—-lhe Young Rough Rider’s Close Call; or,
The Girl From Denver.

56—The Young Rough Rider’s Close Call; or,
Life Against Life.

57—The Young Rough Rider’s Silent Foe; or,
The Hermit of Satan’s Gulch.

58—The Young Rough Rider's River Route; or,
A Fight Against Great Odds.

59—The Young Rough Rider’s Investment; or,
A Bargain With a Ghost.

60—The Young Rough Rider’s Pledge; or, The
Hermit of Hidden Haunt.

61—The Young Rough Rider’s Aérial Voyage;
or, The Stranded Circus.

62—Ted Strong’s Nebraska Ranch; or, The Fra-
cas at Fullerton.

63—Ted Strong’s Treasure Hunt; or, The
Demons of Coahuila.

64—Ted Strong’s Terrible Test; or, Joining a
Secret Clan.

65—The. Young Rough Riders in Shakerag
Canyon; or, Routing the Rusticts of the
Big Horn.

66—Ted crane! s Secret Service; or, The Mystic
Letter:

67—Ted Strong’s Decisive Tactics; or, The Man
with the Evil Eye.

68—Ted Strong’s Troublesome Neighbors; or,
The Feud in: Texas:

69—Ted Strong’s Dusky Friend; or, The Gypsy

_ Girl’s Warning.

7o—The Young Rough Riders in Panama; or,
An Unpremeditated Voyage.

71—Ted Strong’s Fearless Stand; or, The Young
Rough Riders in Arizona.

 

 

 

 

All of the above numbers aiways on hand. If you cannot get them from your
newsdealer, five cents per copy will bring them to you by mail, postpaid.

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Ave., NEW YORK

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

Contains the Biggest and Best Stories of All Descriptions.
A Different Complete Story Each Week.

FOLLOWING IS A LIST

86—Prisoners of War; or, Jack Dashaway’s Rise from
the Ranks. By “Old Tecumseh.”
87—A Charmed Life; or, The Boy with the Snake Skin
Belt. By the ‘author of “Among the Malays.”
88—Only an Irish Boy; or, Andy Burke's Fortunes.
By Horatio Alger, Jr.
89—The Key to the Cipher; » The Boy Actor’s Strug-
gle. By Frank J. Earll.
de Through Thick and Thin; or, Foes to the Last.
By Walter J. Newton.
9I—In Russia’s Power; or, How Two Boys Outwitted
the Czar. By Matt "Royal.
92—Jonah Mudd, the Mascot of Hoodooville; or,
Which Was Which? By Fred Thorpe.
93—Fighting the Seminoles; or, Harry Emerson’s Red
Friend. By Maj. Herbert H. Clyde.
94—The Young Outlaw; or, Adrift in the Streets. By
Horatio Alger, Jr.
95—The Pass of Ghosts; or, A Yankee Boy in the Far
West. By Cornelius Shea.
96—The Fortunes of a Foundling; or, Dick, the Out-
cast. By Ralph Ranger.
97—The Hunt for the Talisman; or, The Fortunes of
the Gold Grab Mine. By Sa M. Merrill.
o8—Mystic Island. The Tale of a Hidden Treasure.
By the author of “The Wreck of the Glaucus.”
o9—Capt. Startle; or, The Terror of the Black Range.
By Cornelius Shea.
100—Julius, the Street Boy; or, A Waif’s Rise from
Poverty. By Horatio Alger, Jr.
1o1—Shanghaied; or, A Wanderer Against His Will.
By H. C. Emmet.
102—Luke Jepson’s Treachery; or, The Dwarfs of the
. Pacific. By the author of “The Wreck of the
Glaucus.”
103—Tangled Trails; or, The Mystery of the Manville
Fortune. By Clifford Park.
104—James, Langley & Co.; or, The Boy Miners of Salt
River. By the author of ‘ ‘Capt. Startle.”
105—Ben Barclay’s Courage; or, The Fortunes of a
Store Boy. By Horatio Alger, Je.
106—Fred Desmond’s Mission; or, The Cruise of the
~ “Explorer.” «By Cornelius Shea.
107—Tom Pinkney’s Fortune; or, Around the World
; with Nellie Bly. By Lieut. Clyde.
108—Detective Clinket’s Investigations; or, The Mys-
tery of the Severed Hand. By Clifford Park.
1o9—In the Depths of the Dark Continent; or, The
Vengeance of Van Vincent. By the author of
“The Wreck of the ‘Glaucus.’”
110—Barr, the Detective; or, The Peril of Lucy Graves.
By Thomas P, Montfort.
11I—A Bandit of Costa Rica; or, The Story of a
Stranded Circus. By Cornelius Shea,
112—Dacey Dearborn’s Difficulties; or, Fhe Struggle of
the Rival Detectives. By Clifford Park.
113—Ben Folsom’s Courage; or, How Pluck Won Out.
By Fred Thorpe.
114—Daring Dick Goodloe’s Apprenticeship; or, The
Fortunes of a Young Newspaper Reporter. By
Phil Willoughby.

@

 

OF THE LATEST ISSUES:

115—Bowery Bill, the Wharf Rat; or, The Young Street
Arabis Vow: By Ed..S. "Wheeler.

116—A Fight for a Sweetheart; or, The Romance of
Young Dave Mansard. By Cornelius Shea.

117—-Col. Mysteria; or, The Tracking of a Criminal to
His Grave. By Launce Poyntz.

118—Electric Bob’s Sea Cat; or, The Daring Invasion

- of Death Valley. By Robert T. Toombs.

119—The Great Water Mystery; or, The Adventures of
Paul Hassard. By Matt. Royal.

120—The Electric Man in the Enchanted Valley; or,
The Wonderful Adventures of Two Boy In-
ventors. By the author of “The Wreck of the
‘Glaucus.’’ :

t21—Capt. Cyclone, Bandit; or, Pursued by an Elec-
tric Man. By the ‘author of “The Wreck of
the ‘Glaucus.’”

122—Lester Orton’s Legacy; or, The Story of the

. Treasure Belt. By Clifford Park.

123—The Luck of a Four-Leaf Clover; or, The Re-
united Twins. By Cornelius Shea.

124—Dandy Rex; or, An American Boy’s Adventures
in Spain. By Marline Manly.

125—The Mad Hermit of the Swamps; or, Ned Haw-
ley’s Quest. By W. B. Lawson.

126—Fred Morden’s Rich Reward; or, The Rescue of
a Millionaire. By Matt Royal.

127—In the Wonderful Land. of Hez; or, The Wet
of the Fountain of Youth. ‘By the author of
~the “Wreck of the Glaucus.”

128—Stonia Stedman’s Triumph; or, A Young Me-
-chanic’s Trials. By Victor St. Clair.

129—The Gypsy’s Legacy; or, Sam Culver’s Mysteri-
ous Gift. By Cornelius Shea.

130—The Rival Nines of Bayport; or, Jack Seabrooke’s
Wonderful Curves. By Horace G. Clay.

131—-The Sword Hunters; or, The Land of the Elephant
Riders. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.

132—Nimble Nick, the Circus Prince; or, The For-
tunes of a Bareback Rider. By ‘Allen W. Aiken.

133—-Simple Sim, the Broncho Buster; or, Playing for .
Big Stakes. A Romance of ‘the Rio Grande
Ranches, By Lieut. A. K. Sims.

* 134—-Dick Darrel’s Vow; or, The Scourge of Pine Tree

Bend. A Romance of the Mines’ of Nevada.
By Cornelius Shea.

135—The Rival Reporters; or, Two Boys’ Sleek Seonp:
By.4,.€. Cowdrick,

136—-Nick 0’ the Night; or, The Boy Spy of 776. By
CG) Herbayon.: :

137—-The Tiger Tamer; or, The League of the Jungle.
By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.

138—Jack Kenneth at Oxford; or, A Yankee Boy’s
Success. By Cornelius Shea.

139--The Young Fire’ Laddie; or, A Dandy Detective’s
Double-Up. By J. C Cowdick.

140—Dick Oakley’s Adventures: or, The Secret of the
Great Exhibit. By Clarence Converse.

14I—The Boy Athlete; or, Out with a Show in Colo-
rado. By Lieut. A. K. Sims.

All of the above cunibers aye on Gand: If y you ance get them from your
newsdealer, five cents per copy will bring them to you by mail, postpaid.

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Ave., NEW YORK

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

  

i
Ht

Adventures of THE AMERICAN HARKAWAY

 

 

 

HE unflagging interest taken in the fortunes of the immortal Jack Harkaway by young boys, and old boys as well, has for thirty
years been one of the marvels of the publishing world. These stories seem to be just-as eagerly sought after and devoured to-day
as when first issued, and myriads of readers Idolize the Bold and Unconquered Jack in much the same spirit as they do

good old Robinson Crusoe. In fact it has become a household name. And yet, there has always been something like a spirit of keen dis-
appointment among American lads because this hero happened to be a Britisher. Believing that the time was ripe to remedy this one
defect, we have placed upon the market this new series under the name of the Young Rover Library, in which, from week to week,
are chronicled the wonderful adventures and madcap pranks of a genuine Yankee lad, who certainly bids fair to out-Harkaway the
famous original of this type. In thé energetic and restless Link Rover a unique character has been created, so bold and striking that his
name has already become quite as familiar among our American boys as those of Frank Merriwell or Buffalo Bill. These Stories of
Adventure and Frolic at school and abroad are written especially for this series by Gale Richards, who is under exclusive contract to
devote his whole time and attention to this fascinating work. There is not a dull line from beginning to end, because Link Rover believes
it is his especial duty and privilege to keep things constantly “humming.” So be fairly warned that to commence reading of his strange

experiences is to acquire the “Rover habit,” which clings to one like a leech and is very hard to shake off. -

 

 

15—Link Rover’s Wager; or, Mixing Them Up

( on the Limited.

16—Link Rover Among the Mormons; or, A
Madcap Frolic in Old Salt Lake City.

17—Link Rover's Warning; or, The Ghastly Sell
on Sheriff Bowie.

18—Link Rover’s Glorious Lark; or, Making a
Holy Show of the Train Robbers.

1g—Link Rover Stranded; or, Finding Fun on
the Road.

20—Link Rover’s Camp Fires; or, A Jolly Jour-
ney with the Hoboes.

21—Link Rover on Guard; or, Tricks Played on

Travelers.

22—Link- Rover’s Discovery; or, A Very Hot
Time at Denver.

23—Link Rover Trapped; or, The Bursting of a
Bubble. :

24—Link Rover and the Money Makers; or,
Something Not Down on the Bills.

25—Link Rover in Chicago; or, Making Things
Fairly Hum.

26—Link Rover’s Strategy; or, Smoking Out an
Old Enemy.

27—Link Rover Among the Shanty Boatmen;
or, A Roaring’ Voyage Down the Miss-
issippi.

28—Link Rover’s Flying Wedge; or, Football
Tactics on a River Steamboat. ~

29—Link Rover’s Crusoe Island; or, A Campaign
of Humor in the Flood.

30—Link Rover’s Surprise; or, The Mischief to
Pay.

31—Link Rover Among the Cotton Pickers; or,
Hustling for Fun Down in Dixie Land.

32—Link Rover’s Black Double; or, Mirth and
Mystery on the Old Plantation.

 

33—Link Rover’s Tame Scarecrow; or, The As-
tounding Racket “Daddy’’ Played.

34—Link Rover’s Awful Hoax; or, Comical
Doings Among the Lynchers.

35—Link Rover in Trouble; or, A Picnic Not
Down on the Bills.

36—Link Rover’s Success; or, High Jinks
Among the Moonshiners.

—37—-Link Rover on Deck; or, Screaming Larks

With Drummers.

38—Link Rover in Florida; or, Hilarious: Times

- Under the Palmettos.

39—Link Rover Stumped; or, The Prank That
“Froggie” Planned.

40—Link Rover’s Houseboat; or, A Howling
Cruise Down Indian River.

41—Link Rover’ Wrecked; or, Stirring Up the
Oyster Dredgers.

42—Link Rover’s Little Joke; or, Warm Work at

Palm Beach.

43—Link Rover on His Mettle; or, Out For Fun
All the Time.

44—Link Rover’s Best Scheme; or, a Hurricane
of Humor Along the Coast.

4s—Link Rover’s Journey; or, The Happy-Go-

Lucky Farce by “‘Jonsey.” ;
46—Link Rover in Cuba; or, Waking the Sleepy
~ Dons.

47—Link Rover, Afloat and Ashore; or, Not So
Simple as He Looked:

48—Link Rover’s Magic Salve; or, A Doctor in
Spite of Himself.

49—Link Rover in Old Mexico; or, Doing
“Stunts” among the Greasers.

5s0—Link Rover’s Triumph; or, Whooping
Things Up Along the Road.

 

 

 

All of the above numbers always on hand. If you cannot get them from your
newsdealer, five cents per copy will bring them to you by mail, postpaid.

STREET & SM

 

Tf, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Ave., NEW YORE

 

 

 

 

 

     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

ceca _ , j

 

SSeepronnen

 
w

wes
;

y

 

jhe

 

az a
AO Coe
© 4

%

ork

J

PEPEPEEET

x

Ne

4

ERECEEEEECEEE

enth Ave
Phe

y

salodsc
W
PEELE EEL EEE ELE:

9S
CEPEP

‘ A
v

 

at
yf
O

EPRPRPPPERPPEP
AV

(

“gt
et
oe
oe
-
t
ox
eg
a

(ie

»

e

 

Poe

reet

ee

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

st &
Solerdorder ordered bee be bed heron

a e
bbbbbbbbbbbbber

EEEEEEEEEEP FERS

PPE EEE EEE EE EE

 

 

o