CHAPTER XVI._Motor Matt's Double Trouble; or, The Last of the Hoodoo

CONCLUSION.

"What can I do for you, Neb?" asked Matt, facing the darky as he pulled

his mule to a halt.

"Ah dunno as yo' can do nuffin' fo' me, boss," answered Neb. "Ah

reckons yo's done about all fo' dis moke dat he can expec'. Yo' done

got Gin'ral Jackson back fo' me, an' dat odder feller found his

bicycle, too. Ah 'lows yo' must hab been in er hurry, 'case yo' didn't

wait fo' me to tell yo' Ah was obliged fo' whut yo' done. Lucky Ah seed

yo' while Ah was passin' Mars Boggs' place. Close tuh where dat white

boy found his bicycle dar was somefin' right on de aidge o' de bridge.

Ah gaddered it in, en Ah thought mebby yo' was de one whut drapped hit.

Ah was wonderin' en mah ole head how Ah was gwine tuh diskibber whedder

what Ah found belonged tuh you--en heah, right when Ah was gittin'

clost tuh home, Ah done sees yuh! Ain't dat fine? Somefin' strodinary

'bout dat."

A faint hope was rising in Motor Matt's breast, but it was very faint.

The foundation of it was almost too preposterous for belief.

"What did you find, Neb?" he asked.

"Ah don't know whedder hit amounts to nuffin' er not, but Ah reckons

yo' kin tell."

Thereupon Neb shoved one hand into a pocket of his tattered coat and

brought out, mixed in his yellow palm with two nails, a fishline, and a

piece of chewing tobacco----

_The Eye of Buddha!_

It was almost sunset, and the early shadows were beginning to fly over

the eastern borders of the Catskills, but there was enough light to

strike sparkling crimson gleams from the fateful gem that lay in the

old darky's hand.

"Does dat 'ar thing b'long tuh yo', boss?" said Neb Hogan.

"Hold it just that way for a minute, Neb," returned Matt.

Then quickly he slipped the cords from the mandarin's wrists.

"Look up, Tsan Ti," went on Matt. "See here a minute."

Apathetically the mandarin raised his head. His gaze fell on the red

gem, glittering amid the poor treasures which the old negro "toted" in

his pocket.

The mandarin's body stiffened, his hands flew to his forehead, and he

gazed spellbound; then, with a hoarse cry, he caught the ruby from

Neb's hand, pushed it against his breast, and fell to his knees,

muttering wildly in his native tongue.

"Well, by thunder!" exclaimed Banks. "Is that the idol's eye, Matt?"

Matt nodded.

"You found that red jewel at the edge of the bridge, you say, Neb?"

"Dat's whar Ah done picked it up. What is dat thing, anyhow? By golly,

dat Chinymum ack lak he done gone crazy."

"It's a ruby, Neb," explained Matt, "and very valuable. The Chinaman

who stole your mule had taken the ruby away from this other Chinaman,

and was trying to escape with it. General Jackson wouldn't take the

bridge, and the Chinaman on his back kicked and pounded him so that

the mule bucked and tossed him to the edge of the bridge. Before the

Chinaman could save himself he fell into the creek. The ruby must have

dropped out of his pocket upon the planks of the bridge. I didn't see

it, though, and it remained for you to pick it up."

"By golly!" breathed Neb. "Ain't dat a mos' 'sprisin' purceedin'? Ah

done finds de ruby fo' de feller whut got mah mu-el back fo' me. Is we

squar' now, boss?"

"Square?" laughed Matt. "Why, Neb, we're a whole lot more than square.

How much do you think that ruby's worth?"

"Kain't be hit's worf mo' dan ten dollahs, I reckons," he guessed.

"It's worth thousands of dollars, Neb!"

"Go 'long wif yo' foolishness! Dat red thing kain't be worf all dat

money, nohow. Yo's foolin' de pore ole moke."

"It's the truth, Neb."

Tsan Ti, jabbering wildly, arose from his bended knees and pulled his

alligator-skin pouch from his blouse.

"Excellent stranger of the dusky race," said he, "I gather from what

I hear that I am in your debt for the recovery of the Eye of Buddha.

Will it insult you if I offer, of my goodness of heart, five hundred

dollars?"

Neb Hogan nearly fell from General Jackson's back.

"Whut's dat he's er-sayin' tuh me?" he asked, rolling up the whites of

his eyes. "Talkin' 'bout five--five hunnerd dollahs, en 'bout insultin'

me wif it. By golly, Ah's brack, but Ah don't 'low no yalluh trash tuh

mek spo't ob me. Somebody hole mah mu-el twill Ah climb down. Five

hunnerd dollahs! Ah won't 'low no Chinymun tuh say no such thing.

Ah--Ah----"

Words died on the old negro's lips. Tsan Ti had pushed a bundle of

money up in front of his face, and Neb was gazing at the bills like one

demented.

"Accept of my gratitude, illustrious one," chanted the mandarin. "You

are worthy--it is little enough."

The darky tried to talk, but the words stuck in his throat.

Mechanically he took the bills, smoothed them out in his hands, and

finally pushed them into his pocket.

"Ah reckons dishyer's a dream," he managed to gasp finally. "Ah reckons

Ah'll wake up tuh heah Mandy buildin' de fiah fo' breakfus. Eider dat,

or Ah's suah gone crazy."

Then, turning General Jackson, Neb Hogan rode out of the gate, looking

back fearfully as long as he was in sight, wondering, no doubt, if

those he had left were not the phantoms of his disordered imagination.

This little scene had been enacted under the eyes of McGlory and the

prisoners in the blue touring car. Grattan's feelings, perhaps, may be

imagined better than described. McGlory was "stumped," as he would have

expressed it.

"Now that Tsan Ti has got the ruby again, pard," called the cowboy, "I

move we pack him in a box, idol's eye and all, and turn him over to

the express company for safe transportation to Canton. If we don't,

something is sure going to happen to him."

"Nothing will happen to him now," said Matt. "The men he had to fear

are in the custody of the law, and from now on Tsan Ti will experience

no more trouble."

"Esteemed friend," palpitated the overjoyed mandarin, "I shall yet

deposit the ruby in the express company's care as soon as I get to

Catskill. The lessons I have had are sufficient."

"That's the talk!" approved the cowboy.

"What shall we do with Sam Wing?" asked Matt.

For an instant a flash of rage drove the happiness from the mandarin's

eyes. But the flash died as swiftly as it came.

"Have you a knife, illustrious youth?" inquired the mandarin.

"Better keep it, pard!" warned McGlory. "Tsan Ti's going to do for

Wing!"

But Matt believed otherwise. Taking his knife from his pocket, he

handed it to Tsan Ti and the latter went into the barn. He reappeared

in a few moments, and Sam Wing, freed of his ropes, accompanied him.

Harsh words in Chinese broke from Tsan Ti's lips. He talked for

perhaps two minutes steadily, the harshness leaving his voice as the

torrent of speech flowed on. When he had finished, he reached into his

alligator-skin pouch, brought out some money, and placed it in Sam

Wing's hand; then, sternly, he pointed toward the road.

"What a fool!" growled Grattan.

"Why didn't he send the thief over the road?" muttered Pardo.

"Speak to me about this!" cried McGlory.

"Looks like there was a few things we could learn from the chinks,"

pondered Banks.

"You're right, Mr. Banks," said Matt. "Tsan Ti is the right sort, and

I'm glad I did what I could to help him. Let's start for Catskill--I

suppose Martin is back there, by this time, and wondering what has

become of Joe and me. Ready for New York in the morning, Joe?"

"I'm ready," was the prompt response, "but will we go?"

"I believe we will," said Matt, climbing into the roadster. "We've seen

the last of the hoodoo. Get in, Tsan Ti, and we'll hit it up between

here and Catskill. You're to ride with me."

THE END.

MOTOR STORIES

THRILLING ADVENTURE MOTOR FICTION

NEW YORK, October 2, 1909.

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HUDSON AND THE NORTHWEST PASSAGE.

A short time ago the newspapers announced that a feat which for four

hundred years stout ships and bold crews have been attempting had been

accomplished by a little Norwegian vessel of forty tons and seven men.

Long ago, the news would have thrilled the harbors of England and

Holland with joy and keen expectancy. Coming in the twentieth century,

it has created little sensation. Perhaps, of all those who read the

announcement, only the few to whom "the Northwest Passage" was a name

full of history and heroism and romance realized what an interesting

achievement had been made. For the practical value of the discovery had

long since been discounted, and no "merchant adventurer" of the present

day would have sunk half his fortune in equipping an expedition to

solve the riddle that puzzled the brains of the men of long ago.

For the search for the Northwest Passage was from the first a business

affair. It was a mercantile question. The whole inquiry arose out of a

trade competition between the northern and southern seafaring nations.

This was the situation: Spain and Portugal had been first in the

field, as regards over-sea discovery; they had found the way to the

treasure house of Asia, and the unspoiled riches of the New World.

The Portuguese held the monopoly of maritime trade with India--the

Venetians had long governed the overland route, and grown wealthy

thereby--and the Spaniards looked upon South America as their private

property.

Of the two, the Spanish settlements on the American coasts with the

mines behind them drew the eyes of the adventurer, who secured his

prizes at the sword's point, but Asia was the more tempting to the

trader. The former dreamed of the sack of opulent cities; the latter

dreamed of bustling wharves, and barter, and English ships coming home

laden with spices and silks, the peaceful spoils of the market place

and the tropical forest and the shark-haunted seas.

How to reach India "by a quick route, without crossing the sea paths

of the Portuguese and the Spaniards," this, in a word, was the origin

of the long and arduous search for the Northwest Passage.

It was the general belief that America was an island, but the size and

shape of it was still only imperfectly known. That there was a water

way round the southern end of the great continent had been proved

by Magellan, who, in his voyage round the world, had passed through

the straits that bear his name. The question now was, did a similar

waterway exist at the northern end?

They believed that America tapered to a point northward, as it did

southward. They little realized how the northern continent spread

itself out into the cold Arctic seas, and with what a network of

islands and ice floes it ended.

And so they sent out ships to search for a water way through those

inhospitable seas, and the first to go was an Englishman, Martin

Frobisher.

Greatly did he dare. We in these days of perfectly appointed ships,

built of steel and driven by steam, can appreciate the hardihood of

this hero and his crews, setting forth in two tiny craft of twenty-five

and twenty tons burden, respectively, to solve the riddle of the

northern seas! They sailed away--Queen Elizabeth herself waving them

adieu from the windows of her palace at Greenwich--on June 12th, 1576,

and a month later they were off the coast of Greenland.

Then came stormy weather. A pinnace with her crew of four was sunk, and

Frobisher found himself alone--one ship among the never-ending ice. For

his consort had gone home, discouraged by the forbidding outlook.

But almost immediately after this disappointment there came a gleam of

hope. He beheld what appeared to be a passageway trending westward. It

seems that this is still called Frobisher Bay. As he sailed through he

thought that he had Asia on one side and America on the other. It was

but a happy delusion. The projecting corner of Asia was far away; he

was only abreast of what has since been named Baffin's Land.

Frobisher's second voyage, made in 1577, was rather a gold quest than a

journey of discovery. A lump of stone (probably iron pyrites) had been

brought home by one of the sailors as a souvenir of the first voyage.

The particles of gold in it fired the fancies of some Londoners with

the idea that Eldorado might perhaps, after all, be among the northern

ice.

So Frobisher's ships went out again, and brought home something like

200 tons of the black stone. A third time they made the voyage, no less

than fifteen ships taking part in the expedition, the object of which

was to establish a sort of settlement for the working of the supposed

"gold mine." But nothing came of the attempt. Bewildering fogs and

perilous storms and threatening icebergs beset the puny fleet; sickness

followed hard upon the exposure and privations long endured by the poor

fellows who manned it, and at last the scheme was abandoned.

Yet in this disappointing third voyage Frobisher had unknowingly come

very near the discovery which originally he had in view! For, in the

words of the writer before quoted, "the truth was that Frobisher's

foremost ships had got farther to the south than was realized, and

unwittingly he had discovered what is now known as Hudson's Strait--the

sea gate of that very Northwest Passage on which his waking and

sleeping thoughts so long had brooded."

He had been carried some sixty leagues up the strait, but as he knew

nothing as to whither it led he reaped no advantage.

Several years went by without another attempt being made to solve the

problem, of the Northwest Passage, but at last, in the summer of 1585,

some English merchants planned a fresh expedition.

Two ships were fitted out--one the _Sunshine_, of London, fifty tons;

the other the _Moonshine_, of Dartmouth, thirty-five tons. The command

was intrusted to a young Devonshire sailor, Captain John Davis, whose

name is familiar to all schoolboys who have drawn maps of the northern

parts of North America.

Though the records of the voyage abound with incidents relating to the

various encounters that Davis' men had with spouting whales and basking

seals, uncouth Eskimos, and Polar bears, the actual achievements of

this expedition were not great. The ships traversed part of what is now

called Davis Strait, and went some way up Cumberland Gulf, but by the

end of September they were back in Dartmouth.

Davis set forth again, next summer, with three ships and a pinnace.

The latter and one of the ships were dispatched up the east coast of

Greenland, while the commander, with the two other vessels, sailed

northwest. He got as far as Hudson Strait and farther. And in a third

voyage he reached a headland not far from Upernavik. The hardihood and

pluck displayed in these attempts to penetrate the ice-encumbered seas

were splendid, but the results did not throw much light on the question

of how to get northwest by sea to the Indies.

Soon after this the kindred question of a Northeast Passage forced

itself upon the seafaring people of Holland, and the city of Amsterdam

fitted out four ships, and sent them forth under William Barents,

in the June of 1594. The story of this and subsequent expeditions

cannot, however, be told here, though it is full of heroism and strange

adventures.

It was the idea of a Northeast route which first laid hold of Henry

Hudson, the intrepid Englishman whose name figures so prominently on

the map of North America. Like Barents, he made his way to Nova Zembla,

but, baffled by the seemingly insuperable difficulties to the eastward,

he turned westward in his third voyage, and again when he set forth on

his fourth and last voyage.

Some of his men were evidently less stout of heart than their

commander, and when there began to be real prospects of being caught in

the ice, the spirit of mutiny got the upper hand. On June 21st, 1610,

with a cowardice that was happily in strange contrast to the usual

behavior of English crews, it was decided to get rid of the captain.

Next morning he and his little son, a loyal-hearted sailor (the ship's

carpenter), and half a dozen sick and helpless members of the crew,

were put over the ship's side into one of the boats, and left to their

fate.

The years went by. Other expeditions were fitted out and sent

northward, but the old reasons for finding out the Northwest Passage

were fast disappearing. The Portuguese monopoly of the sea-borne trade

with India and the supremacy of Spain on the ocean highways were things

of the past. The ships of other nations had no longer to skulk past

these aforetime kings of the sea.

Arctic exploration went on, but the idea of reaching the North Pole

was beginning to take the place of the idea of "making" the Northwest

Passage. That old problem, however, was in prospect of being solved

by the attempts made to solve the former. So that by the year 1853

Collinson was able to sail so far that he came within fifty-seven

miles--a mere pin prick on the map--of accomplishing the Northwest

Passage.

Finally, in 1906, the Passage, which, like a mountain tunnel, had been

worked at from both ends, was penetrated from one opening to the other

by the little _Gjöa_, a Norwegian sloop of forty tons, which sailed

from Christiania on June 1st, 1903.

She was under the command of Captain Roald Amundsen, of that city, and

his right-hand man was Lieutenant Godfred Hansen, of the Danish navy;

the crew numbered seven. She had not been built with a view to Arctic

work, so that before she went north into the realm of the ice king she

had to be fortified somewhat. An ice sheathing of two-inch oak planks

added greatly to her resisting power, and her petroleum motor of 13

horse power enabled her, when she put to sea, to attain a traveling

speed of three knots in smooth water. But the _Gjöa_ trusted chiefly,

like the stout little barks of other days, to the skillful handling of

her sails.

The winters of 1903 and 1904 were spent in harbor on the shores of King

William's Land. Only the premature closing in of the ice prevented the

little vessel from achieving the Passage in 1905.

THE DEATH BITE.

"Well, Ed, let us hear from you to-night. You are always talking of

strategy, flanks, and other soldiering knickknacks. Now tell us a

story."

The boys drew their chairs about the roaring fire, which cast its ruddy

glow about the room, while without the north wind held revelry in the

branches of the trees.

Ed looked over the top of his paper, and smiled.

"What's that you say, Bib? I can't tell much of a story."

Ed drew his chair to the fire. A chorus of supplications came from all

parts of the room, and Ed laid aside his paper.

"In the early spring of 1863 we were encamped near the Pamunky River,

about the time they were undermining the enemy's fort on the other side

of the river. One rainy night a party of us were formed and marched

out. It was well known the enemy was not far off, and I felt anything

but pleasant. The rain poured down in a deluge, and we picked our way

through the woods by the blinding flashes of lightning which now and

then illumined the forest. The heavy rains had transformed the ground

into a swamp. Near the edge of the forest we halted and separated in

squads of five.

"By good luck I had charge of one squad. From under our overcoats we

drew our spades and waited for the rain to slack.

"'Now, Ed,' said the lieutenant, 'you take your men and select a spot

and dig a rifle pit, and if anything comes in your way bang away at it,

for things are getting hot.'

"A few minutes more and the lieutenant and his party were gone. Between

two huge trees we began to dig, and in a few hours we had finished our

pit. The boys tumbled in and all were soon asleep, except Barry; he was

a down-Easter and had been through most of the campaigns.

"The rain ceased falling, and no sound reached us save the pattering

raindrops as the wind dislodged them from the trees.

"I had scarcely taken forty winks, when Barry poked me in the ribs. I

awoke immediately.

"'Look there!' he whispered.

"I looked over the pit and saw a small light swaying to and fro. I

thought at first it was a will-o'-the-wisp.

"'Will I fire at it?' asked Barry.

"'You know your orders, don't you?' I replied. 'Let us both fire at

it.' Both of our muskets were shoved over the top of the pit, and

taking a hasty aim, we fired.

"A loud yell followed the reports, and we saw the light fly upward

and fall to the ground; then all was darkness, and the same quietness

returned.

"'I wonder is he dead?' was the question that arose; and then the boys

returned to their corners and slumbered on.

"Soon the faint gray streaks of morning began to light up the east; and

as I felt very thirsty I took my canteen, and clambered out of the pit,

and started off. A few minutes' walk brought me to a small creek, and I

filled my canteen and stooped to drink. The snapping of a twig caused

me to look up; and my hair fairly raised, for not two yards from me

stood a powerful man dressed in gray; he had pistols, a musket and an

ugly-looking toothpick. A low chuckle came from his lips, and I gave

myself up for lost, as I had not even so much as a penknife with me. In

my eagerness to get water I forgot all. The Confederate seemed to read

me through, for he said:

"'Well, Yank, have you got enough water?'

"I managed to say 'Yes'.

"'Well,' he said, 'get away from here, and think yourself lucky.'

"It did not take me long to get away from that spot. Then I noticed,

for the first time, that our pit was dug on the top of a little hill.

A few yards off on the other side of the creek stood a large barn.

I could see forms walking about from where I now stood. The man I

had met walked toward the barn. The boys in the pit saw him, and the

muzzles of their guns frowned over the top in a minute. At that moment

a detachment of men came to relieve us. They had hardly reached us,

when from behind the barn a party of soldiers hove in sight, dragging

a small fieldpiece, and in a moment more a crashing iron ball came

tearing in our midst. With whoops and yells the enemy dashed on our

little party, and we were soon engaged hand to hand. I felt myself

hurled to the ground and a hand tightening about my throat. Then the

fear of death stole upon me, and the strength of a Hercules took

possession of my limbs. I turned my assailant over and placed my knee

on his breast.

"In vain I looked about for something to put an end to the struggling

man whom I held, but could find nothing. In his belt I saw the handle

of a knife. I seized it with one hand, but in doing so my grasp relaxed

upon his throat, and before I could prevent it he had my finger in his

mouth, and his teeth closed upon it. I fairly howled with pain and

drove the knife into his heart several times. His jaws grew rigid in

death and his teeth cut slowly to the bone and partly bit that, too.

How I yelled! If it had been taken off at once the pain would have been

nothing, but being bitten slowly off was intense. I had to pry open his

jaws with the knife to get my finger out of his mouth."

Ed paused and the boys crowded about him, and the second finger was

minus an inch. We all dispersed that night thinking there has been many

an adventure that befell the brave boys of which the public will never

know anything.

MIGRATION OF RATS.

In nearly all countries a seasonal movement of rats from houses and

barns to the open fields occurs in spring, and the return movement

takes place as cold weather approaches. The movement is noticeable even

in large cities.

More general movements of rats often occur. In 1903 a multitude of

migrating rats spread over several counties of western Illinois. They

were noticed especially in Mercer and Rock Island Counties. For several

years prior to this invasion no abnormal numbers were seen, and their

coming was remarkably sudden. An eye-witness to the phenomenon informed

the writer that as he was returning to his home by moonlight he heard

a general rustling in the field near by, and soon a vast army of rats

crossed the road in front of him, all going in one direction. The mass

stretched away as far as could be seen in the dim light. These animals

remained on the farms and in the villages of the surrounding country,

and during the winter and summer of 1904 were a veritable plague. A

local newspaper stated that between March 20 and April 20, 1904, F. U.

Montgomery, of Preëmption, Mercer County, killed three thousand four

hundred and thirty-five rats on his farm. He caught most of them in

traps.

In 1877 a similar migration occurred into parts of Saline and Lafayette

Counties, Mo., and in 1904 another came under the writer's observation

in Kansas River Valley. This valley for the most part was flooded by

the great freshet of June, 1903, and for about ten days was covered

with several feet of water. It is certain that most of the rats in the

valley perished in this flood. In the fall of 1903 much of the district

was visited by hordes of rats, which remained during the winter, and by

the following spring had so increased in numbers that serious losses of

grain and poultry resulted.

No doubt the majority of the so-called migrations of rodents are in

reality instances of unusual reproduction or of enforced migration

owing to lack of food. In England a general movement of rats inland

from the coast occurs every October. This is closely connected with the

closing of the herring season. During the fishing the rodents swarm to

the coast, attracted by the offal left from cleaning the herring, and

when this food supply fails they hasten back to the farms and villages.

In South America periodic plagues of rats have taken place in Parana,

Brazil, at intervals of about thirty years, and in Chili at intervals

of from fifteen to twenty-five years. These plagues in the cultivated

lands follow the ripening and decay of the dominant species of

bamboo in each country. The ripening of the seed furnishes for two

or more years a favorite food for rats in the forests, where the

animals multiply greatly; when this food fails they are forced to the

cultivated districts for subsistence. In 1878 almost the entire crops

of corn, rice, and mandioca in the State of Parana were destroyed by

rats, causing a serious famine.

An invasion of black rats in the Bermuda Islands occurred about the

year 1615. In a space of two years they had increased so alarmingly

that none of the islands was free from them. The rodents devoured

everything which came in their way--fruit, plants, and even trees--so

that for two years the people were destitute of bread. A law was passed

requiring every man in the islands to set twelve traps. In spite of all

efforts the animals increased, until they finally disappeared with a

suddenness which could have resulted only from a pestilence.

SOME GREAT CATASTROPHES.

"It is the general opinion that earthquakes constitute the most

terrible of the world's catastrophes, both as regards loss of life

and destruction of property," says an English writer. "This, however,

is not so. The convulsion in southern Italy killed not less than two

hundred thousand people, and in this respect it is easily the most

dreadful occurrence of its kind. The historic Lisbon earthquake, which

ranks next below it in regard to the number of fatalities, caused

fifty thousand deaths in that one city alone and about an equal number

elsewhere. The South American one of 1867 was responsible for thirty

thousand. That which destroyed Aleppo in 1822 slew twenty thousand.

These are the four worst earthquakes concerning which anything like

reliable statistics are obtainable, and the total combined loss of

life, it will be observed, did not, at any rate, exceed three hundred

and fifty thousand.

"But when the Yellow River burst its banks in September, 1887, more

than seven million people were drowned in the resultant great flood,

which covered to an average depth of six feet a populous Chinese

province the size of Scotland. Thus, in this one catastrophe, more

lives were lost than in all the earthquakes recorded in the world's

history. Then, again, there is pestilence. The black death killed in

China, where it broke out, thirteen million people; in the rest of

Asia, twenty-four million, and thirty million in Europe, or sixty-seven

million in all. In India alone, and that within the past twelve years,

bubonic plague has slain over six million people, and the epidemic

still rages.

"Famines run plagues a close second. The one that raged in Bombay and

Madras in 1877 slew five million people; and that which prevailed in

northern China in the same year, and which was due to the same climatic

causes, cost nine million five hundred thousand lives."

LATEST ISSUES

MOTOR STORIES

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20--Motor Matt Makes Good; or, Another Victory for the Motor Boys.

21--Motor Matt's Launch; or, A Friend in Need.

22--Motor Matt's Enemies; or, A Struggle for the Right.

23--Motor Matt's Prize; or, The Pluck That Wins.

24--Motor Matt on the Wing; or, Flying for Fame and Fortune.

25--Motor Matt's Reverse; or, Caught in a Losing Game.

26--Motor Matt's "Make or Break"; or, Advancing the Spark of

Friendship.

27--Motor Matt's Engagement; or, On the Road With a Show.

28--Motor Matt's "Short Circuit"; or, The Mahout's Vow.

29--Motor Matt's Make-up; or, Playing a New Rôle.

30--Motor Matt's Mandarin; or, Turning a Trick for Tsan Ti.

31--Motor Matt's Mariner; or, Filling the Bill for Bunce.

32--Motor Matt's Double-trouble; or, The Last of the Hoodoo.

33--Motor Matt's Mission; or, The Taxicab Tangle.

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.=

691--Dick Merriwell's Dandies; or, A Surprise for the Cowboy Nine.

692--Dick Merriwell's "Skyscooter"; or, Professor Pagan and the

"Princess."

693--Dick Merriwell in the Elk Mountains; or, The Search for "Dead

Injun" Mine.

694--Dick Merriwell in Utah; or, The Road to "Promised Land."

695--Dick Merriwell's Bluff; or, The Boy Who Ran Away.

696--Dick Merriwell in the Saddle; or, The Bunch from the Bar-Z.

697--Dick Merriwell's Ranch Friends; or, Sport on the Range.

698--Frank Merriwell at Phantom Lake; or, The Mystery of the Mad

Doctor.

699--Frank Merriwell's Hold-back; or, The Boys of Bristol.

700--Frank Merriwell's Lively Lads; or, The Rival Campers.

701--Frank Merriwell as Instructor; or, The Skill of the Wizard.

702--Dick Merriwell's Cayuse; or, The Star of the Big Range.

703--Dick Merriwell's Quirt; or, The Sting of the Lash.

704--Dick Merriwell's Freshman Friend; or, A Question of Manhood.

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.=

652--The Green Box Clue; or, Nick Carter's Good Friend.

653--The Taxicab Mystery; or, Nick Carter Closes a Deal.

654--The Mystery of a Hotel Room; or, Nick Carter's Best Work.

655--The Tragedy of the Well; or, Nick Carter Under Suspicion.

656--The Black Hand; or, Chick Carter's Well-laid Plot.

657--The Black Hand Nemesis; or, Chick Carter and the Mysterious

Woman.

658--A Masterly Trick; or, Chick and the Beautiful Italian.

659--A Dangerous Man; or, Nick Carter and the Famous Castor Case.

660--Castor the Poisoner; or, Nick Carter Wins a Man.

661--The Castor Riddle; or, Nick Carter's Search for a Hidden Fortune.

662--A Tragedy of the Bowery; or, Nick Carter and Ida at Coney Island.

663--Four Scraps of Paper; or, Nick Carter's Coney Island Search.

664--The Secret of the Mine; or, Nick Carter's Coney Island Mystery.

665--The Dead Man in the Car; or, Nick Carter's Hair Line Clue.

666--Nick Carter's Master Struggle; or, The Battle With the

Man-monkey.

667--The Airshaft Spectre; or, Nick Carter's Shrewd Surmise.

_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.

17--Motor Matt's Close Call; or, The Snare of Don Carlos.

18--Motor Matt in Brazil; or, Under the Amazon.

19--Motor Matt's Defiance; or, Around the Horn.

20--Motor Matt Makes Good; or, Another Victory for the Motor Boys.

21--Motor Matt's Launch; or, A Friend in Need.

22--Motor Matt's Enemies; or, A Struggle for the Right.

23--Motor Matt's Prize; or, The Pluck that Wins.

24--Motor Matt on the Wing; or, Flying for Fame and Fortune.

25--Motor Matt's Reverse; or, Caught in a Losing Game.

26--Motor Matt's "Make or Break"; or, Advancing the Spark of

Friendship.

27--Motor Matt's Engagement; or, On the Road With a Show.

28--Motor Matt's "Short Circuit"; or, The Mahout's Vow.

To be Published on September 6th.

29--Motor Matt's Make-up; or, Playing a New Role.

To be Published on September 13th.

30--Motor Matt's Mandarin; or, Turning a Trick for Tsan Ti.

To be Published on September 20th.

31--Motor Matt's Mariner; or, Filling the Bill for Bunce.

To be Published on September 27th.

32--Motor Matt's Double-trouble; or, The Last of the Hoodoo.

PRICE, FIVE CENTS

At all newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, by the publishers upon receipt

of the price.

STREET & SMITH, _Publishers_, NEW YORK