CONCLUSION.
Captain Nemo, Jr., made an astonishing rally during the night the
_Grampus_ was creeping slowly up the shore of British Honduras. He
awoke from a refreshing slumber, sound of mind and with an optimistic
outlook on life which boded good things for Speake, Gaines and Clackett.
The doctor, when he called, shook his hand in congratulation.
"You are doing better than I dared to hope, captain," said he.
"Can I talk business, doctor?" asked the captain.
"As much as you like. Keep on with the same medicine, Cassidy," the
doctor added to the mate; "I don't think we can improve on that."
As soon as the doctor had gone, Cassidy made a confession which he
had been keeping stored away in his mind for several days. It was a
confession of his treachery toward Motor Matt and the rest of his
mates aboard the _Grampus_ during the other cruise south to rescue the
American consul.
Cassidy did not spare himself, but told the astonishing facts fully and
in detail.
Captain Nemo, Jr., listened in pained surprise. For several minutes
after Cassidy finished he did not speak.
"If you're going to begin drinking again, Cassidy," said the captain,
"I suppose we ought to part company."
"I've taken my last drink," declared Cassidy.
"Do you mean it?"
"I do."
"And Motor Matt, on his way back from the River Izaral, put you back in
the ship as mate?"
"Yes."
"Well, whatever Motor Matt does is good enough for me. If you were put
there as mate, then you stay there."
"Thank you, sir," said Cassidy, shaking his captain's hand.
At that moment a rap fell on the door. Cassidy opened it, and Gaines,
Speake, Clackett and Motor Matt walked into the room.
"Well, well, Matt!" cried Captain Nemo, Jr., his face brightening
wonderfully at sight of the young motorist, "this is a pleasure, I must
say! You've brought the entire crew of the _Grampus_ with you, eh?"
"Not quite all of them," laughed Matt. "Cassidy was here, taking care
of you, and we left Dick and Carl aboard for an anchor watch."
"You fellows act as though you had something on your minds," observed
the captain, giving the three members of the crew a curious look.
"That's what we have, sir," answered Gaines. "We have a confession to
make."
"Confession!" muttered the captain. "This seems to be my morning for
hearing confessions. Well, go ahead."
Thereupon Speake, Gaines and Clackett, on their part, told the captain
exactly what had taken place during this second trip to the River
Izaral. Captain Nemo, Jr., was dumfounded. Pursing his thin lips,
he leaned back in his chair and watched and listened with the utmost
attention.
"So," said he cuttingly, when the recital was done, "Motor Matt refused
to take my boat south, in response to the request of this scoundrelly
don, and you locked Matt and Dick in the storage room of the submarine
and went off whether they would or no! And you called Matt out of the
room to fix the motor and keep the boat from going on the reefs; and
you picked up a supposedly shipwrecked crew out of a boat, and the
crew turned on you and captured the _Grampus_; and, with the aid of
Miss Sixty, Motor Matt and his friends recovered the boat, captured
Fingal, Pitou and some others, and turned them over to the cruiser
_Seminole_--all of which would not have happened had not you, Speake,
Gaines and Clackett acted in an insubordinate and mutinous manner. What
had I ought to do with them, Matt?"
"They behaved finely during the fighting and while we were running down
the river, past the fort," replied Matt, "so I don't think they should
be dealt with very severely, captain."
"You're too easy with them, Matt! Look at the trouble they caused you!"
"But see what good luck came out of it, captain. We captured Pitou and
Fingal."
"That isn't the best thing that has come out of it, Matt," remarked the
captain. "The best thing for me is the fact that this mutinous conduct
of Speake, Clackett and Gaines proves, more than ever, that you are
always to be depended on. You refused to sail away on a wild-goose
chase after listening to a plausible story told by this rascally don,
and----"
"I took a good deal of stock in the story at the time it was told,
captain," said Matt.
"That may be; but you didn't let your own desires override what you
conceived to be your duty. There would have been no merit in your act,
for you, if you had not wanted to go with the don, but yet allowed
your idea of duty to me hold you back. I am much obliged to you,
Speake, Gaines and Clackett, for affording me this added proof that my
confidence in Motor Matt is not misplaced. But, if I ever hear of any
further mutiny on the _Grampus_, there will be something happen which
none of you will ever forget.
"The U. S. cruiser _Seminole_ is in the harbor, and I am positive that
her captain bears some news for me of a very important nature. This may
make it necessary for a call to be made upon the officers and crew of
the _Grampus_ for some further work. I cannot tell yet as to that. If
so it turns out, then your commanding officer will be Motor Matt. Now
leave me, all of you, for I have both listened and talked too much,
and I am beginning to feel tired. Have the periscope ball and mast
repaired, Matt, as soon as possible, and call and see me to-night."
As Matt left the house and made his way along the street, he came
suddenly upon Ysabel Sixty, again clad in her feminine clothes and
looking like the Ysabel he used to know of old.
"You did not stay long at home, Ysabel," smiled Matt.
"I couldn't," she answered. "I wanted to find out what your plans were,
and how long you expect to remain in Belize."
"That's all in doubt, as yet. I am to call on Captain Nemo, Jr.,
to-night, and perhaps he will be able to tell me something about future
plans."
"I hope," and there was a tremulous earnestness in the girl's words,
"that you are not going to leave Belize very soon."
"I should like to stay here a little while, Ysabel, myself," said Matt.
Her face brightened.
"And if you are here for a while, you will come often and see me?"
"You may depend upon it, little girl," said Matt, taking her hand
cordially. "I shall never forget this last experience of yours, and how
you undertook an exceedingly risky venture solely to be of aid to me."
There was a gentleman waiting for a word with Matt, and Ysabel, with a
glad smile, turned away in the direction of home.
"Señor Motor Matt?" asked the gentleman, who had been waiting for
Ysabel to finish her talk with Matt.
"The same, sir," replied Matt.
"I, my boy, am Don Ramon Ortega, the Spanish consul in Belize. I wish
to beg your pardon for the serious misadventures into which you were
plunged through the unwarranted use of my name by that unmitigated
scoundrel, Don Carlos Valdez."
"You were not to blame for that, don."
"Perhaps not, but I feel keenly the trouble which my name--always an
honorable one--has caused you. Some time, when my family return from
Mexico, I shall hope to see you at my home as an honored guest. Will
you come?"
"Certainly, sir, if I am in Belize."
"I thank you, señor," said the don; and then, with a courtly bow, he
passed on.
The king of the motor boys hardly knew whether to laugh or look sober;
but when he reflected on how the rascally Don Carlos had juggled with
the Spanish consul's name, and used it for base purposes, he felt that
perhaps the consul was right in taking the matter so much to heart.
That evening, Pedro was taken ashore and lodged in the house of
Ysabel's relatives. The next day he took passage to Cuba, and forever
cut himself adrift from revolutions and the filibusters who foster them.
THE END.
THE NEXT NUMBER (18) WILL CONTAIN
Motor Matt in Brazil;
OR,
UNDER THE AMAZON.
The Cachalot--John Henry Glennie, U. S. N.--The Meeting in the
Harbor--Ah Sin's Clue--Off for the Amazon--Villainous Work--Rubbing
Elbows with Death--A Dive for Safety--Putting Two-and-two
Together--Under the Amazon--Hand-to-hand--Boarded--A Prisoner, and a
Surprise--The Old Slouch Hat--Para--A Desperate Risk.
MOTOR STORIES
THRILLING ADVENTURE MOTOR FICTION
NEW YORK, June 19, 1909.
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PHILIP'S WAY.
By HORATIO ALGER, Jr.
"I mean to have a jolly time to-morrow, Phil," said Tom Chester. "I
expect it will cost me a cool fifty dollars."
"What are your plans, that require so much expense?" asked Philip
Marden.
"Being New Year's Day, I must make calls on my friends, you know. I've
got about fifty places chalked down for visits. I mean to go in style,
and so, have engaged a carriage all to myself for the day. That'll cost
ten dollars, and perhaps more. Then in the evening I'm going to give a
little supper to half a dozen friends. Will you be one of the number?"
"Thank you, I have promised to spend the evening with my aunt and
cousin."
"Oh, they'll let you off."
"No doubt, but they would be disappointed, and I would rather not
disappoint them. So, with many thanks, I must decline your kind
invitation."
"I am sorry," said Tom, but he didn't care much really. The truth was
that Philip was a little too sober and sedate to suit his taste, and
the supper was likely to be a convivial one.
"So Tom is going to spend fifty dollars in pleasure," thought Philip.
"Well, he can afford it for once, so far as money goes, and so can I. I
will do it, too, only it may be that our ideas of pleasure will differ
somewhat. I shall have a few calls to make also."
The next morning Tom set out on his tour of calls. He had a "jolly"
time, as he expected, and drank wine at so many different places that
his head got a little confused by the middle of the afternoon.
About ten o'clock Philip set out also, but in a less stylish manner. He
paid five cents for a ride in the horse cars, getting out in a locality
very far from fashionable. He stopped before a shabby, three-story
house, and ringing the bell, inquired for Mrs. Lucas.
"Third floor, front, right-hand side," was the direction.
The staircase was as shabby as the exterior of the house. Philip soon
stood on the third landing, and after a little pause, knocked at the
door. It was opened by a pale, sickly-looking woman, who looked at him
inquiringly.
"Is this Mrs. Lucas?" asked the young man.
"Yes, sir," said she inquiringly.
"My name is Marden. You made me some shirts lately."
"Yes, sir. I hope they fitted."
"Excellently."
"I am glad of it. Perhaps he has some more work for me!" thought the
poor woman.
"I am afraid you find it hard work to get along in these days of high
prices," said Philip, surveying the scantily furnished apartment.
"I do, indeed, sir," said Mrs. Lucas, sighing. "Rent and provisions
are very high, and I can't always get work. I have a little girl of
ten--she is out just now--but she cannot do much. I try to keep her at
school, but I find it hard to keep her in decent clothing. It was a
great help to me, the money I received for making your shirts."
"I shall have some more work soon," said Philip kindly. "Meanwhile will
you accept this note? I hope it will be of service."
"Ten dollars!" exclaimed Mrs. Lucas in surprise. "You have made a
mistake, sir. Have you not?"
"Not at all."
"Ah, sir, you don't know how much good it will do me," said the poor
woman, her face lighted up with pleasure. "Thank you many times for
your great kindness."
"You are quite welcome, Mrs. Lucas. It is New Year's Day, you know--I
wish you a Happy New Year."
"Indeed, sir, you have done much to make it so."
There was a warm glow at Philip's heart as he went out into the street.
His call had been a pleasant one.
Two or three blocks brought him to another tenement house, more shabby
and dilapidated than the one he had left.
"I think it is No. 17, rear house," he said.
He passed through a narrow passage, and emerged into a dark court about
fifteen feet square, swarming with little children, and inquired of the
first one that attracted his attention, "Does Mrs. Flaherty live here?"
"Yes, sir," said the little girl addressed, "she's my mother."
"Will you show me her room?"
Little Bridget Flaherty led the way upstairs, a little surprised at the
appearance of her mother's visitor, and opened the door of a dirty room
without a carpet.
Mrs. Flaherty rose in surprise, recognizing her visitor.
"It's Mr. Marden, shure," she said. "And how did you find the way, sir?"
"I happened to remember the street and number, Mrs. Flaherty."
"I hope there's nothing wrong about the clothes, sir?"
"Not at all; but I'm out making my New Year's calls."
"And it's an honor, indade, that you should call on me. Sit down, sir,
if you please."
And she cleared off a chair, wiping it with her apron to insure
cleanliness.
Philip chatted with her five minutes, inquiring about her family and
circumstances. As he rose to go he took out ten dollars and handed it
to her.
"Is it for me?" she asked incredulously.
"Yes, Mrs. Flaherty, a New Year's gift."
I should hardly venture to reproduce the grateful thanks which were
showered upon Philip by the enthusiastic recipient of his gift, and how
she invoked all the saints in the calendar to shield him from harm and
fill his path with blessings.
Philip next went to a bookstore, and purchased a series of juveniles
illustrated with bright, attractive pictures, and taking the horse
cars again was landed near a quiet little street of no pretensions as
regards fashion. He ascended the steps of a plain, wooden house of two
stories, and rang the bell. It was the house of a widow, who made a
scanty living by keeping boarders of an humble class. She had one boy
of twelve, bright and athirst for knowledge, but an invalid, and not
strong enough to go to school. There was nothing the lad loved like
reading, but his mother could not afford to buy him books, and her
friends were not many of them book owners. So he used to lie day after
day on the old lounge, finding the hours weary and monotonous.
It was his mother who opened the door.
"Jimmy will be so glad to see you, Mr. Marden," she said. "You'll find
him on the sofa, as usual."
"Does he get no better?"
"Not that I can see. Poor boy, he finds the time pass very heavily."
"I've brought him some books that will while away the hours."
"How kind you are! He will be beside himself with joy."
She led the way into a small room, with a faded carpet on the floor. A
young boy with a merry look on his pale face lay on a lounge. He lifted
his eyes, and they brightened as they met the gaze of the visitor.
"Oh, Mr. Marden, I'm so glad to see you!" he exclaimed.
"And I am glad to see you, Jimmy--a Happy New Year to you!"
"And you also, Mr. Marden."
"Thank you, Jimmy. Now, what do you think I have got in this big
bundle?"
"Is it books?" asked the boy eagerly.
"Yes, Jimmy, you have guessed right. Six new books, and all for you."
"All for me. Oh, how kind you are! Do open them quick."
Smiling at the boy's impatience, Philip cut the string with his
penknife, and displayed six handsomely bound volumes, over which Jimmy
was soon poring with delight.
"Then you like them, Jimmy?"
"Oh, so much. There was nothing which I should have liked as well. What
a good man you are, Mr. Marden. I don't deserve it."
"I like to make people happy, Jimmy, that is all."
"And you have made me very happy, sir," said the boy, his face lighting
up with gratitude. "My life has been so dull sometimes."
"Let us hope it will be brighter in future."
"I think it will, Mr. Marden, thanks to you."
Philip called at three other places, where he dispensed timely and
welcome gifts. We need not follow him. It is enough to say that each
visit carried sunshine with it and left happiness behind it. When
the last call had been made he found that he had expended just fifty
dollars, but he felt richer without it.
The next morning the two young men met at their place of business, for
both were employed in the same mercantile establishment. Tom Chester
was heavy-eyed, and looked as if he had been up all night. Philip's eye
was bright, and his nerves were as steady as usual.
"Did you have a good time, Tom?" asked Philip.
"Capital! I made all my calls, and had a jolly supper--to top off with.
Didn't get into bed till four this morning. I feel rather seedy to-day,
that's a fact. But New Year's Day only comes once a year."
"True; how much did it cost you?"
"Fifty dollars. I suppose you, like a prudent boy, saved your money?"
"There you are mistaken. I spent fifty dollars, also."
"You did!" exclaimed his friend in astonishment. "How was that?"
"In making people happy."
"I don't understand you."
Philip gave a brief outline of what he had done.
"You're a strange fellow," said Tom Chester. "Who'd ever have thought
of spending New Year's Day in that way?"
"A great many, I hope. Depend upon it. Tom, the best way to secure
happiness yourself is to promote the happiness of others. I wouldn't
exchange my investment for yours."
Dear reader, I have sketched two ways of spending the day that ushers
in the New Year. Tom Chester spent his time and money in selfish
gratification. Philip devoted his to nobler uses. Which do you prefer?
PERILOUS OCCUPATIONS.
Sealskins are a costly commodity, in more ways than one. More perilous
than almost any other mentionable pursuit, seal-hunting is yearly
exacting a greater penalty in human lives than it ever did before.
Hunted for generations, the seals have become more wary, and year by
year they retire farther and farther into the well-nigh inaccessible
ice of the highest northern latitudes.
It is not sport, this hunting the seal from the icy, storm-swept coast
of Newfoundland; it is toil, whereby in part the hardy Newfoundlander
wins his scanty measure of bread, and the chase is beset with
multitudinous and unforeseen perils.
The wind gathers the ice into floes, and jams it against the coast, an
immeasurable, jagged expanse of it, interspersed with plains; then the
Newfoundlander takes his gaff and his food and his goggles, and sets
out from his little harbor, starting at midnight that he may come up
with the pack at dawn. But the wind which sweeps in the ice inevitably
sweeps it out again, without warning, in an hour, or a day, or a week;
nor does it pause to consider the situation of the men who are twenty
miles offshore. It veers and freshens, and drives the whole mass,
grinding and heaving, far out to sea, where it disperses it into its
separate fragments.
The lives of the hunters depend upon the watchfulness of the attenuated
line of lookouts, from the women on the headland to the first sentinel
within signaling distance. But tragedies occur notwithstanding. Some
years ago of five sealing-schooners that penetrated the drift ice then
blocking the northernmost extremity of Baffin's Bay one only returned.
Two or three years previously, at Kedy, near Cape Voronoff, Siberia,
three hundred Russian sealers, at work upon an ice-floe, were driven
northward into the frozen ocean, owing to the sudden springing up of a
southerly gale, and were never heard of again.
At St. Paul's Island, one of the Pribyloff group, off the coast of
Alaska, are the graves of seventy odd sealers, found frozen stiff and
stark on an ice-floe that drifted ashore one night.
As with sealskins, so with pearls. The pearl-diver's occupation
is among the most dangerous known. Generally either an Arab or a
full-blooded negro, he is invariably a man of splendid physique and
indomitable courage. Long practise has enabled him to remain under
water for two minutes at a time without apparent inconvenience.
Nevertheless, the life of a professional pearl-diver is not considered
by experts to be worth more than six or seven years' purchase.
Many succumb every season to a strange and deadly form of paralysis.
Many more are eaten by sharks, drowned through getting their feet
entangled in weeds, caught in crevices in the rocks while exploring
the depths of the sea, or seized and devoured quickly by shoals of
gigantic octopi--those ghouls of the ocean--which invariably infest the
fishing-grounds.
It is estimated that of the hundreds of egret-hunters who each year
set out for the heronries of Yucatan, a full ten per cent. never
return. Deep in the deadly, fever-laden recesses of the forest swamps
of the hinterland these beautiful birds breed. The hunter pursues them
remorselessly, his life in his hand, for the snow-white tail-feathers
are worth from five to eight guineas.
The climate is deadly. The atmosphere is saturated with miasma and
infected with myriads of poisonous insects. Alligators lurk, too, in
the black slime of the tortuous bayous, which constitute the only means
of inter-communication. An egret-hunter who runs short of ammunition or
quinin simply lies down in the bottom of his canoe and waits for death.
Usually he has not long to wait. On the average, for every half-dozen
aigrettes--one may see hundreds being worn any afternoon in Bond
Street--a man's life has been sacrificed.
Hardly less perilous, if any, is the orchid-hunter's profession.
Orchids love warmth and moisture, and warmth and moisture in tropical
countries are synonymous with miasma and fever. Wild animals also and
poisonous serpents abound in the umbrageous depths wherein the rarer
varieties lie hidden. Not infrequently, too, the collector has to seek
his specimens among savages or semicivilized peoples, who strongly
resent his intrusion into their midst.
One firm of orchid-importers reported a year or two ago that they had
had five collectors killed in as many months by the wild tribesmen of
the Western Himalayan slopes; while other three, even more unfortunate,
were made prisoners and carried off to undergo the nameless horrors
which have from time immemorial been characteristic of Central Asian
slavery.
Rubber is purchased at a terrible price. The mortality in the State
of Amazonias, in Brazil, corresponds with almost diabolical exactness
to the number of tons of rubber produced. In fact, it is said each
ton costs a human life, and although there are no such horribly
fiendish atrocities in Brazil as has been charged against the Congo,
it is nevertheless true that the laborers who are brought into the
rubber-fields do not average more than three years of life; and are,
if not in law, at least in fact, subjected to hardships never known or
endured by the slaves in the United States, or even by the slaves in
the coffee countries of Brazil.
Of nearly seven million pounds of camphor obtained annually, Formosa
produces all but about six hundred thousand pounds, but very few
people have the faintest conception of the dangers to which Japanese
camphor collectors are exposed in the Formosa hills when gathering
this product. Up to the present, in fact, the Japanese have found it
impossible to control the head-hunting savages of the hills, and the
development of this valuable industry depends equally upon the success
of their measures for encountering and suppressing these determined and
as yet unconquered tribes.
Formosa, which is shaped somewhat like a huge sole, has a rugged,
mountainous back-bone, in which Mount Morrison towers into the clouds
to a height of twelve thousand feet. Throughout the wild penetralia of
these mountains lurk a number of warlike tribes of varying strength,
whose lives are devoted to hunting, fishing, and fighting with one
another, their one community of interest being a passionate ardor in
the collection of human heads, whether of their tribal enemies or of
the Chinese coolies who live on the verge of the hills or are engaged
in the camphor industry.
The tree from which camphor is obtained is a species of laurel
indigenous to Formosa, and it is on the mountains overrun by these
terrible hordes of head-hunters that the extensive forests from which
practically the world draws its supply of camphor are found.
POI THEIR STAFF OF LIFE.
What bread is to the American or European poi is to the native
Hawaiian. No meal is complete without it, and for the great majority of
the natives it forms the principal article of diet.
Poi is made from a tuberous root about the size of a large sweet
potato. It is first baked and afterward pounded up with water until a
smooth paste is obtained, much resembling a wheat flour paste, except
that the color is a pale pink or purple.
This paste is allowed to ferment slightly and is then ready for use.
Formerly each family prepared its own poi, the work being done by the
men, as in fact were most other cooking operations. Poi factories, in
which machinery grinds and mixes the material, have largely supplanted
the old method.
Many of the white residents of the islands eat poi to almost the
extent of the natives, but the taste is largely acquired and strangers
seldom care for it. Poi has a high food value, and since it formed the
principal food of the old Hawaiians some persons credit it with the
splendid physical development of the race.
Poi was always eaten from wooden bowls or calabashes and was conveyed
to the mouth by the fingers, one, two or three being employed according
to the consistency of the food, which fact establishes a designation
of one, two or three finger poi. White poi eaters now usually employ a
fork or spoon in lieu of fingers, although it is still common even in
the highest families to give native dinners or "luaus" at which knives
and forks are taboo and fingers only used.
There is as much etiquette among the Hawaiians in eating with the
fingers as with modern table implements, and the graceful motion by
which a portion of poi is twisted up on the fingers and transferred to
the mouth would not shock the sensibilities of the most refined. An
invitation to a real luau at which poi, baked pig, fish baked in leaves
and cocoanut in various forms were the chief features of the menu is an
experience which every visitor to Hawaii sincerely covets.
A CITY BEGUN ON A RAFT.
The story of the founding of the City of Mexico is one of the most
extraordinary tales in history. It happened in 1325, at least, it began
a long time before that, but was an accomplished fact about 600 years
ago.
In the first place, imagine an almost inaccessible mountain, crowned
with a valley at the height of 8,000 feet above the level of the sea.
In the centre of this valley was an immense lake. When the Aztecs
arrived, led by the priests of the God of War, they found it in the
possession of hostile tribes.
For that reason, and because the priests declared that in a certain
part of the lake where there stood an elevation of stones an eagle had
been seen devouring a serpent, they began the construction of the city
on this spot, immediately over the deepest waters of the lake. There
had long existed a prophecy among the Aztecs that their wanderings
would end when they should have reached a place where the priests would
behold an eagle resting on a cactus plant, devouring a serpent.
Confident that they had found the spot ordained to be their abiding
home, they began to construct rafts of the trunks of trees, covering
them with thick layers of earth, upon which they built rude huts
of more or less solidity. Groups of dwellings soon began to form
themselves in regular order, thus determining the primitive streets of
the new city.
They also constructed boats and oars of different sizes useful in
peace and war, and while certain of their number occupied themselves
in defending their homes and brethren from the onslaughts of hostile
tribes, others continued to improve and enlarge the new city. Gradually
the lake was filled up, and terraces arose, one after another, in the
place once occupied by the deep waters.
This was in itself a herculean labor, unsurpassed in ingenuity and
durability by any similar work of ancient or modern times. Upon the
first of these terraces was constructed the Teocalli, or sacrificial
temple. It was begun in 1216 and not completed until 1325, a period
of 109 years, from which time may be dated the official foundation of
Tenochtitlan, to-day the modern City of Mexico.
LATEST ISSUES
MOTOR STORIES
The latest and best five-cent weekly. We won't say how interesting it
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6--Motor Matt's Red Flier; or, On The High Gear.
7--Motor Matt's Clue; or, The Phantom Auto.
8--Motor Matt's Triumph; or, Three Speeds Forward.
9--Motor Matt's Air-Ship; or, The Rival Inventors.
10--Motor Matt's Hard Luck; or, The Balloon House Plot.
11--Motor Matt's Daring Rescue; or, The Strange Case of Helen Brady.
12--Motor Matt's Peril; or, Castaway in the Bahamas.
13--Motor Matt's Queer Find; or, The Secret of the Iron Chest.
14--Motor Matt's Promise; or, The Wreck of the _Hawk_.
15--Motor Matt's Submarine; or, The Strange Cruise of the _Grampus_.
16--Motor Matt's Quest; or, Three Chums in Strange Waters.
TIP TOP WEEKLY
The most popular publication for boys. The adventures of Frank and Dick
Merriwell can be had only in this weekly. =High art colored covers.
Thirty-two pages.= Price, 5 cents.
675--Frank Merriwell Cut Off; or, The Result of the Great Spring Rise.
676--Frank Merriwell's Ranch Boss; or, Big Bruce and the Blossoms.
677--Dick Merriwell's Equal; or, The Fellow with the Flying Feet.
678--Dick Merriwell's Development; or, The All-around Wonder.
679--Dick Merriwell's Eye; or, The Secret of Good Batting.
680--Frank Merriwell's Zest; or, The Spirit of the School.
681--Frank Merriwell's Patience; or, The Making of a Pitcher.
682--Frank Merriwell's Pupil; or, The Boy with the Wizard Wing.
683--Frank Merriwell's Fighters; or, The Decisive Battle with
Blackstone.
684--Dick Merriwell at the "Meet"; or, Honors Worth Winning.
685--Dick Merriwell's Protest; or, The Man Who Would Not Play Clean.
686--Dick Merriwell In The Marathon; or, The Sensation of the Great
Run.
687--Dick Merriwell's Colors; or, All For the Blue.
688--Dick Merriwell, Driver; or, The Race for the Daremore Cup.
689--Dick Merriwell on the Deep; or, The Cruise of the _Yale_.
NICK CARTER WEEKLY
The best detective stories on earth. Nick Carter's exploits are read
the world over. =High art colored covers. Thirty-two big pages. Price,
5 cents.=
638--A Mental Mystery; or, Nick Carter on a Difficult Trail.
639--The Sealed Envelope; or, Nick Carter's Search for a Lost Fortune.
640--The Message in Blue; or, Nick Carter's Clue to a Vast Conspiracy.
641--A Dream of Empire; or, Nick Carter and the Queen of Conspirators.
642--The Detective's Disappearance; or, Nick Carter is Saved by
Adelina.
643--The Midnight Marauders; or, Nick Carter's Telephone Mystery.
644--The Child of the Jungle; or, Nick Carter's Ingenious Ruse.
645--Nick Carter's Satanic Enemy; or, The Case of an Easy Mark.
646--Three Times Stolen; or, Nick Carter's Strange Clue.
647--The Great Diamond Syndicate; or, Nick Carter's Cleverest Foes.
648--The House of the Yellow Door; or, Nick Carter in the Old French
Quarter.
649--The Triangle Clue; or, Nick Carter's Greenwich Village Case.
650--The Hollingsworth Puzzle; or, Nick Carter Three Times Baffled.
651--The Affair of the Missing Bonds; or, Nick Carter in the Harness.
_For sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any address on receipt
of price, 5 cents per copy, in money or postage stamps, by_
STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York
=IF YOU WANT ANY BACK NUMBERS= of our Weeklies and cannot procure them
from your newsdealer, they can be obtained from this office direct.
Fill out the following Order Blank and send it to us with the price
of the Weeklies you want and we will send them to you by return mail.
=POSTAGE STAMPS TAKEN THE SAME AS MONEY.=
________________________ _190_
_STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York City._
_Dear Sirs: Enclosed please find_ ___________________________
_cents for which send me_:
TIP TOP WEEKLY, Nos. ________________________________
NICK CARTER WEEKLY, " ________________________________
DIAMOND DICK WEEKLY, " ________________________________
BUFFALO BILL STORIES, " ________________________________
BRAVE AND BOLD WEEKLY, " ________________________________
MOTOR STORIES, " ________________________________
_Name_ ________________ _Street_ ________________
_City_ ________________ _State_ ________________
A GREAT SUCCESS!!
MOTOR STORIES
Every boy who reads one of the splendid adventures of Motor Matt, which
are making their appearance in this weekly, is at once surprised and
delighted. Surprised at the generous quantity of reading matter that we
are giving for five cents; delighted with the fascinating interest of
the stories, second only to those published in the Tip Top Weekly.
Matt has positive mechanical genius, and while his adventures are
unusual, they are, however, drawn so true to life that the reader can
clearly see how it is possible for the ordinary boy to experience them.
_HERE ARE THE TITLES NOW READY AND THOSE TO BE PUBLISHED_:
1--Motor Matt; or, The King of the Wheel.
2--Motor Matt's Daring; or, True to His Friends.
3--Motor Matt's Century Run; or, The Governor's Courier.
4--Motor Matt's Race; or, The Last Flight of the "Comet."
5--Motor Matt's Mystery; or, Foiling a Secret Plot.
6--Motor Matt's Red Flier; or, On the High Gear.
7--Motor Matt's Clue; or, The Phantom Auto.
8--Motor Matt's Triumph; or, Three Speeds Forward.
9--Motor Matt's Air Ship; or, The Rival Inventors.
10--Motor Matt's Hard Luck; or, The Balloon House Plot.
11--Motor Matt's Daring Rescue; or, The Strange Case of Helen Brady.
12--Motor Matt's Peril; or, Cast Away in the Bahamas.
13--Motor Matt's Queer Find; or, The Secret of the Iron Chest.
14--Motor Matt's Promise; or, The Wreck of the "Hawk."
15--Motor Matt's Submarine; or, The Strange Cruise of the "Grampus."
16--Motor Matt's Quest; or, Three Chums in Strange Waters.
To be Published on June 14th.
17--Motor Matt's Close Call; or, The Snare of Don Carlos.
To be Published on June 21st.
18--Motor Matt in Brazil; or, Under the Amazon.
To be Published on June 28th.
19--Motor Matt's Defiance; or, Around the Horn.
To be Published on July 5th.
20--Motor Matt Makes Good; or, Another Victory for the Motor Boys.
PRICE, FIVE CENTS
At all newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, by the publishers upon receipt
of the price.
STREET & SMITH, _Publishers_, NEW YORK
Transcriber's Notes:
Italics are represented with _underscores_, bold with =equal signs=.
Added table of contents.
Some inconsistent hyphenation (i.e. "war-like" vs. "warlike") retained
from the original.
Page 14, changed "Ortera" to "Ortega" ("can't understand this Don Ramon
Ortega").
Page 16, corrected "action" to "actions" in "The boy's actions were
peculiar."
Page 26, changed "Ysabelle" to "Ysabel" ("Ysabel vanished into the
tower").
End of Project Gutenberg's Motor Matt's Close Call, by Stanley R. Matthews