CONCLUSION.
Motor Matt's regret was keen over the failure to catch Ben Ali, Aurung
Zeeb, and the unknown Hindoo. It was one of those cases, however, where
it was best to be satisfied with the work accomplished, and to forget
the failure whereby three miscreants escaped the consequence of their
evil deeds.
And it was possible that Ben Ali was not long to enjoy his freedom,
for Twomley asserted that all the powers of the United States Secret
Service would be bent toward accomplishing his ultimate capture.
When it came to dealing legally with Dhondaram, a serious question
arose. If the Hindoo was to be punished severely, it would be necessary
to take him to Jackson, where the worst of his crimes had been
committed. This would require the presence of complaining witnesses,
of which Burton was one. For a man traveling from place to place
constantly, as was Burton, such a move could not be made without great
sacrifices.
It was deemed better, therefore, to have Dhondaram brought to book for
the lesser crime committed in the house of the green shutters. "Assault
with murderous intent" was the charge, and a light sentence followed.
Bill Wily, agreeably to promises given him, was released. Whether
he profited by his experience or not, Motor Matt never afterward
discovered. Such a lesson as he had had, however, should have been
enough for any man. For a little matter of ten dollars, he had entered
blindly into the schemes of Ben Ali--and Ben Ali's schemes left their
mark on every person who had anything to do with them.
Twomley was a delighted Englishman, if there ever was one. He had
fulfilled the mission with which he had been intrusted by Sir Roger,
and he had done so after discovering that his errand to Lafayette, so
far as securing Miss Manners was concerned, was useless.
A Roman candle in the side-show tent had lent itself to the
perpetration of a practical joke; and out of that joke had come the
clue which had made possible the second rescue of Margaret Manners.
Carl was very much pleased to learn that so much good had developed
from a row in the freak tent, but whether or not he forgave Ping for
setting off the Roman candle is open to question.
Carl had declared that he would "play even" with Ping for the candle
episode, and those who knew Carl best believed that he would prove as
good as his word.
Monday morning Twomley and Miss Manners took a train for New York, but
not until both the attaché and the girl had expressed to Matt and the
motor boys their appreciation of all that they had done.
It was somewhat indelicate of Carl, perhaps, to mention the matter of
his five thousand dollars before Miss Manners, but he was beginning
to worry about the money. As he expressed it, "Der longer vat der time
iss, der more vat I don'd seem to ged dot rewart. I peen sefendeen
years olt, und meppy I don'd lif more as sixdy years from now."
Twomley assured Carl that he would do whatever he possibly could to
hurry the money along. And with this promise Carl had to be satisfied.
With the turning over of Dhondaram to the police, the liberating of
Bill Wily, and the departure of Twomley and Miss Manners, a series of
thrilling incidents connected with Motor Matt's show career came to a
close.
And Motor Matt's show experiences were likewise drawing near an end.
Just how close this end was he did not dream that Monday morning when
he and McGlory accompanied the attaché and his charge to the train.
When the two boys got back to the show grounds, however, Boss Burton
had a telegram for Matt.
Burton was frankly worried about that telegram. Some other showman,
he felt sure, was offering Matt a bigger salary for his aëroplane
performances.
"Don't you forget for a minute," said Burton, watching keenly as Matt
opened the telegram, "that you're hooked up with me on a contract for
the season. You can't break that contract, you know."
"There were conditions, Burton," said Matt.
"The only condition I remember was something about the government
buying the aëroplane--which is all a dream. The government has bought
one of the machines, and that's enough. It takes a Motor Matt to run
one of those cranky Traquair air ships. It'll be a long while before
Uncle Sam buys another."
Matt read the message through, gave a whoop of delight, and passed the
yellow slip on to McGlory.
Then McGlory jubilated.
"What's to pay?" demanded Burton.
"Uncle Sam has done the trick!" crowed the cowboy. "He takes the
_Comet_ at the same price he paid for the _June Bug_--fifteen thousand
spot--machine to be crated and shipped immediately, if not sooner.
Whoop-ya! That settles the aëroplane business for King & McGlory. The
next game we get into will be something, I reckon, that I can take a
hand in, and not leave Pard Matt to do all the work."
Burton's face grew gloomy.
"Let me look at that message," he requested.
Matt handed it to him, and he read it over two or three times, then
dropped it savagely, and ground it under his heel.
"You don't _have_ to sell," said he angrily. "You can turn that offer
down if you want to."
"No, I can't," Matt answered. "The sale was virtually made up in North
Dakota weeks ago. Besides, I'm not the only one interested in the
deal."
"Who else besides McGlory?"
"Why, Mrs. Traquair, the widow of Harry Traquair, who invented the
extension wings and a few other things that have made the aëroplane
a success. Half of the fifteen thousand the government pays for the
machine goes to Mrs. Traquair."
"Oh, blazes!" growled Burton. "Don't tell the woman anything about it.
Send word back to the war department you don't want to sell; then I'll
make a new contract with you for a thousand a week. In seven or eight
weeks you boys will receive all your share of what the government pays
for the _Comet_."
Matt listened to the showman gravely.
"You don't mean what you say, Burton," said he. "If you think for
a minute that I'd play crooked with Mrs. Traquair, or with the
government, then you've got pretty far off your track. It's in our
contract that, if the government wants the machine, the contract
terminates. Here's where the motor boys' engagement with the Big
Consolidated comes to a close."
"You'll make a couple of flights to-day, won't you?" asked Burton,
swallowing his disappointment.
"Yes, I'll do that much for you," Matt answered, "and then, bright and
early to-morrow morning, we begin crating the machine for shipment."
"Blamed if I don't sort of hate to see the machine go," murmured
McGlory. "Many a hair-raising old trip you've had in the _Comet_, pard,
with me below lookin' up at you and almost kicking the bucket with
heart failure! Mainy a thriller the machine has given us, and--well, I
reckon it's done some good, too."
"That's the best part of it, Joe," said the king of the motor boys.
THE END.
THE NEXT NUMBER (30) WILL CONTAIN
Motor Matt's Mandarin
OR,
Turning a Trick for Tsan Ti.
On the Mountainside--The Yellow Cord--The Glass Balls--The Paper
Clue--Putting Two-and-two Together--A Smash--Nip and Tuck--Tsan Ti
Vanishes Again--Tricked Once More--The Diamond Merchant--The Old
Sugar Camp--A Tight Corner--The Glass Spheres--A Master Rogue--The
Eye of Buddha--The Broken Hoodoo.
MOTOR STORIES
THRILLING ADVENTURE MOTOR FICTION
NEW YORK, September 11, 1909.
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79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York City.
A BRAVE DEED.
The mining town of Capelton was alive with excitement. A
long-looked-for event was about to take place. Mr. Hilton, the owner of
the mines and more than half the village, was to give a ball in honor
of his son's twenty-first birthday, and also to celebrate the return of
his only daughter from the Parisian school to which she had been sent
when but ten years old.
Carl Hilton was an only son, and because of his parents' indulgence had
become selfish and tyrannical. His father idolized him, and was blind
to his faults. He was to become a partner in the mines on attaining his
majority. As Mr. Hilton had been out of health for more than a year,
Carl had attended to most of the business, and he had so tyrannized
over the miners that they one and all hated him; but they loved and
respected his father, and for his sake bore in silence the abuse of the
son.
To this birthday ball all the miners and their families had been
invited, and the rumors of the great beauty of Nina Hilton only added
to the excitement and anticipation.
I will not weary the reader by a description of the affair, and no
event of interest occurred until supper was announced. It fell to the
lot of Fred Chase, one of the foremen in the mines, to escort the
beautiful Nina, and so deeply did they become engaged in conversation
that it was some minutes before Fred noticed that Carl sat directly
opposite, and was watching them closely. With an effort the young man
concealed his annoyance, and continued his attentions to Nina.
"I intend to visit the mines to-morrow," said the girl, in tones loud
enough to be heard by her brother. "I want to descend the new shaft."
"I shall be very happy to conduct you through the mines, but you must
not descend the new shaft, for it is not safe. I have warned your
brother that the roof of the mine is in danger of falling, but he only
laughs at me, and I fear some terrible accident will be the result of
his neglect."
"You are a fool, Fred Chase! The shaft is safe enough; if you talk like
this, the men will all be afraid of it, and refuse to work. I shall
take Nina there myself to-morrow," said Carl angrily.
The young man's face flushed, but he controlled himself, and answered
coldly:
"I spoke the truth; the shaft is not safe, and unless more timber is
put in to support the roof, you will soon have proof that I am right. I
only hope that no lives will be lost."
"Pooh! You are a coward. I will show you to-morrow how little faith I
put in your words."
The eyes of all present were drawn to the two by Carl's excited tone,
and Fred's reply was plainly heard.
"Call me a coward, if you will, but time will prove the truth of my
assertion. Neglect for twenty-four hours to order more timber to be
placed in the new shaft for the support of its roof, and you alone will
be responsible for what follows."
Carl did not answer, but glanced angrily at Fred, who, after a minute's
pause, turned to Nina again, and changed the subject of conversation.
The following morning Carl started for the new shaft alone. Nina
refused to accompany him, and begged him to delay his visit until the
roof was made secure.
"Nonsense, sis! It is safe enough. That fool, Fred Chase, wanted to
impress you."
Carl believed what he said. He had not visited the shaft for several
weeks, and had not seen the timbers bend beneath the weight of earth
above them. He reached the shaft just as half a dozen miners came
from it, and in answer to his inquiries, was told that Fred Chase and
another man had remained behind to finish filling the last car with ore.
"I am going down," he said, and in a few minutes was lowered to the
bottom of the shaft. In the distance he could see the lights of the
two miners. He advanced toward them. By the light of his own lantern
he saw that some of the beams were bent; all seemed weighted to their
utmost capacity, and he could not but own to himself that Fred Chase
was right. He involuntarily shuddered as, in passing one large post, a
slight crackling sound was heard; but it was not repeated, and he went
on, determined to again make light of the matter.
"You see, I am not afraid of your shaft," he said sneeringly, as he
reached the spot where the two men were standing with the now loaded
car beside them.
"Only cowards need boast of their bravery," said Fred sternly.
"I am going on a short distance to look at the ore; you may wait for
me at the foot of the shaft, and we will all be drawn up at once,"
continued Carl.
He strolled on, while Fred and his companion returned, as directed, to
the entrance. They had barely reached it when they heard a loud report
behind; a cry of fear mingled with the noise of falling rocks; then all
was still.
With pallid faces the men looked at each other, for each knew what
had happened. The roof had fallen, and Carl Hilton was either crushed
beneath the rocks or imprisoned in the opening beyond.
Only an instant did they stand motionless. Then Fred grasped the rope
and gave the signal to be hoisted to the top.
They told their sad story, and a messenger was dispatched to Mr.
Hilton's residence. Soon the entrance to the shaft was a scene of wild
excitement. The stricken relatives of the buried man had reached the
spot as soon as possible. The father offered large rewards to any who
would attempt the rescue of his son; but not a man would volunteer.
Mr. Hilton doubled and trebled his reward, but to no avail; to his
entreaties were added the frantic pleading of the mother and Nina's
distressed sobs.
Fred had stood silent, with his eyes bent on the ground, until the old
man, in sheer despair, cried out:
"I will give half of my fortune, and it is a large one, to the men who
will help me reach my boy!"
Fred came forward with a look of resolve on his face. "Mr. Hilton, not
for your entire fortune would I enter that mine to save your son; but
for humanity's sake, I will do my best to rescue him."
A cheer from the miners greeted these brave words. With a wave of his
hand, Fred commanded silence, and running his eye over the crowd, said
slowly:
"I must have three trusty men to help me. Who will go?"
For an instant no one responded; then Charles Gray, Fred's chosen
companion, stepped to his side.
"I will go, Fred," he said quietly.
Two more men quickly followed the example of their brave leader, and,
armed with spades, bars, ropes, and a bottle of brandy, they were
lowered into the shaft.
Then followed a time of anxious suspense to the waiting crowd, who
could only pray for the safety and success of the rescuing party.
The first act of the workers was to place extra beams, a few of which
were lowered down the shaft for the purpose, as near as they could
to the fallen roof, to help bear any strain that might be resting on
those already there. In a few minutes they realized their wisdom, for a
cracking sound was heard which caused them to retreat toward the shaft;
but it was not repeated, and they returned to their work. At the end
of three hours of cautious digging they came to the car which Fred and
his companion had stayed behind to fill, and they stopped for a few
moments' rest.
"He cannot be far from here, for we had barely reached the shaft when
the roof fell. Hark! What was that?"
Fred stopped suddenly to listen.
"It was a groan! He is alive! Let us get to work, for he must be quite
near," said Charlie Gray excitedly.
With new zeal they worked on, and in half an hour they had reached an
opening caused by two large rocks, which had fallen together in such a
manner as to leave a space between them. In that space lay Carl, with
one arm doubled under him, and one foot pinioned by a large stone. The
poor fellow was terribly bruised and cut, but conscious. Very gently he
was lifted by the men and borne to the foot of the shaft. The signal
was given, and they were carefully drawn to the top, and when they laid
Carl on the ground a shout went up from the miners that echoed loudly
over the hills.
"God bless you, Fred, and your brave companions!" said Mr. Hilton
huskily, as he grasped the young man by the hand. "From my heart I
thank you."
"No thanks are due. I could not bear to see a fellow creature die
without trying to save him."
The crowd soon dispersed, and Carl was conveyed to his home. After many
weeks of suffering he recovered; but the crushed foot was useless--he
was a cripple for life.
As soon as he was able to do so, Carl sent for Fred.
"Forgive me, Fred," he said frankly. "I was wrong not to heed your
advice, but my punishment has been great. Forget the past, and allow me
to thank you for saving my life."
Fred could not refuse the apology thus offered, and the two became fast
friends.
About a year afterward Mr. Hilton bestowed his daughter's hand upon the
brave young man who had saved his son's life, and on his wedding day
Fred became one of the owners of the mines. He is now a wealthy and
prosperous man, and, with his beautiful wife, is almost worshiped by
the miners.
A LOCOMOTIVE HERO.
Well, boys, if you wish it, I'll tell you the story. When I was a youth
of eighteen, and lived with my parents, I had a boyish ambition to
become an engineer, although I had been educated for loftier pursuits.
During my college vacation, I constantly lounged about the station,
making friends with the officials, and especially with an engineer
named Silas Markley. I became much attached to this man, although he
was forty years of age and by no means a sociable fellow.
He was my ideal of a brave, skillful, thoroughbred engineer, and I
looked up to him as something of a hero. He was not a married man, but
lived alone with his old mother. I was a frequent visitor at their
house, and I think they both took quite a fancy to me in their quiet,
undemonstrative way.
When this Markley's fireman left him, I induced him to let me take his
place during the remainder of my vacation. He hesitated for some time
before he consented to humor my boyish whim; but he finally yielded,
and I was in great glee.
The fact was that, in my idleness and the overworked state of my brain,
I craved for the excitement, and, besides, I had such longing dreams
of the fiery ride through the hills, mounted literally on the iron
horse. So I became an expert fireman, and liked it exceedingly; for the
excitement more than compensated for the rough work I was required to
do.
But there came a time when I got my fill of excitement. Mrs. Markley
one day formed a plan which seemed to give her a good deal of
happiness. It was her son's birthday, and she wanted to go down to
Philadelphia in the train without letting him know anything about it,
and there purchase a present for him. She took me into her confidence,
and asked me to assist her. I arranged the preliminaries, got her into
the train without being noticed by Markley, who, of course, was busy
with his engine.
The old lady was in high glee over the bit of innocent deception she
was practicing on her son. She enjoined me again not to tell Silas, and
then I left her and took my place.
It was a midsummer day, and the weather was delightful.
The train was one which stopped at the principal stations on the route.
On this occasion, as there were two specials on the line, it was run by
telegraph--that is, the engineer has simply to obey the instructions
which he receives at each station, so that he is put as a machine in
the hands of one controller, who directs all trains from a central
point, and thus has the whole line under his eye. If the engineer does
not obey to the least tittle his orders, it is destruction to the whole.
Well, we started without mishap, and up to time, and easily reached the
first station in the time allotted to us. As we stopped there, a boy
ran alongside with the telegram, which he handed to the engineer. The
next moment I heard a smothered exclamation from Markley.
"Go back," he said to the boy; "tell Williams to have the message
repeated; there's a mistake."
The boy dashed off; in a few minutes he came flying back.
"Had it repeated," he panted. "Williams is storming at you; says
there's no mistake, and you'd best get on."
He thrust the second message up as he spoke.
Markley read it, and stood hesitating for half a minute.
There was dismay and utter perplexity in the expression of his face as
he looked at the telegram and the long train behind him. His lips moved
as if he were calculating chances, and his eyes suddenly quailed as if
he saw death at the end of the calculation. I was watching him with
considerable curiosity. I ventured to ask him what was the matter, and
what he was going to do.
"I'm going to obey," he said curtly.
The engine gave a long shriek of horror that made me start as if it
were Markley's own voice. The next instant we slipped out of the
station and dashed through low-lying farms at a speed which seemed
dangerous to me.
"Put in more coal," said Markley.
I shoveled in more, but took time.
"We are going very fast, Markley."
He did not answer. His eyes were fixed on the steam gauge, his lips
close shut.
"More coal," he said.
I threw it in. The fields and houses began to fly past half-seen.
We were nearing Dufreme, the next station. Markley's eyes went from
the gauge to the face of the timepiece and back. He moved like an
automaton. There was little more meaning in his face.
"More!" he said, without turning his eye.
"Markley, do you know you are going at the rate of sixty miles an hour?"
"Coal!"
I was alarmed at the stern, cold rigidity of the man. His pallor was
becoming frightful. I threw in the coal. At least we must stop at
Dufreme. That was the next halt. The little town was approaching. As
the first house came into view the engine sent its shrieks of warning;
it grew louder--still louder.
We dashed over the switches, up to the station, where a group of
passengers waited, and passed it without the halt of an instant,
catching a glimpse of the appalled faces and the waiting crowd. Then we
were in the fields again. The speed now became literally breathless,
the furnace glared red hot. The heat, the velocity, the terrible
nervous strain of the man beside me seemed to weight the air. I found
myself drawing long, stertorous breaths, like one drowning.
I heaped in the coal at intervals as he bade me. I did it because I
was oppressed by an odd sense of duty which I never had in my ordinary
brainwork. Since then I have understood how it is that dull, ignorant
men, without a spark of enthusiasm, show such heroism as soldiers,
firemen, and captains of wrecked vessels.
It is this overpowering sense of routine duty. It's a finer thing than
sheer bravery, in my idea. However, I began to think that Markley was
mad--laboring under some frenzy from drink, though I had never seen him
touch liquor.
He did not move hand or foot, except in the mechanical control of
his engine, his eyes going from the gauge to the timepiece with a
steadiness that was more terrible and threatening than any gleam
of insanity would have been. Once he glared back at the long train
sweeping after the engine with a headlong speed that rocked it from
side to side.
One could imagine he saw a hundred men and women in the cars, talking,
reading, smoking, unconscious that their lives were all in the hold of
one man, whom I now suspected to be mad. I knew by his look that he
remembered that their lives were in his hand. He glanced at the clock.
"Twenty miles," he muttered. "Throw on more coal, Jack; the fire is
going out."
I did it. Yes, I did it. There was something in the face of that man I
could not resist. Then I climbed forward and shook him roughly by the
shoulder.
"Markley," I shouted, "you are running this train into the jaws of
death!"
"I know it," he replied quietly.
"Your mother is on board."
"Heavens!"
He staggered to his feet. But even then he did not remove his eyes from
the gauge.
"Make up the fire," he commanded, and pushed in the throttle valve.
"I will not."
"Make up the fire, Jack," very quietly.
"I will not. You may kill yourself and your mother, but you shall not
murder me!"
He looked at me. His kindly gray eyes glared like those of a wild
beast, but he controlled himself in a moment.
"I could throw you off this engine, and make short work of you," he
said. "But, look here, do you see the station yonder?"
I saw a faint streak in the sky about five miles ahead.
"I was told to reach that station by six o'clock," he continued. "The
express train meeting us is due now. I ought to have laid by for it at
Defreme. I was told to come on. The track is a single one. Unless I
make the siding at the station in three minutes, we shall meet it in
yonder hollow."
"Somebody's blunder?" I said.
"Yes, I think so."
I said nothing. I threw on coal. If I had had petroleum, I should have
thrown it on; but I never was calmer in my life. When death actually
stares a man in the face, it often frightens him into the most perfect
composure. Markley pushed the valve still farther. The engine began
to give a strange panting sound. Far off to the south I could see the
dense black smoke of a train. I looked at Markley inquiringly. He
nodded. It was the express. I stooped to the fire.
"No more," he said.
I looked across the clear summer sky at the gray smoke of the peaceful
little village, and beyond that at a black line coming closer, closer,
across the sky. Then I turned to the watch. In one minute more--well,
I confess I sat down and buried my face in my hands. I don't think
I tried to pray. I had a confused thought of mangled, dying men and
women--mothers and their babies.
There was a terrible shriek from the engine, against which I leaned,
another in my face. A hot, hissing tempest swept past me. I looked up.
We were on the siding, and the express had gone by. It grazed our end
car in passing. In a sort of delirious joy, I sprang up and shouted to
Markley. He did not speak. He sat there immovable and cold as a stone.
I went to the train and brought his mother to him, and, when he opened
his eyes and took the old lady's hand in his, I turned hastily away.
Yes, gentlemen, I have been in many a railway accident, but I have
always considered that the closest shave I ever had.
What was the blunder?
I don't know; Markley made light of it ever afterward, and kept it a
secret; but no man on the line stood so high in the confidence of the
company after that as he. By his coolness and nerve he had saved a
hundred lives.
GEESE DROWN A SQUIRREL.
Jack, a big gray squirrel, who, with his mate, Jill, inhabited the
island in the duck inclosure in the Bronx Park Zoo, New York City,
sacrificed his life to his love of high living. It was this way:
Jack and Jill long ago discovered that by crossing over the
ten-foot-wide stream of water which separates the island from the
mainland on all sides they could reach a trough filled with corn,
which was replenished daily, for the ducks and geese, which rightfully
inhabit the pond and island. A wire fence dividing the inclosure used
by the mallard ducks from that enjoyed by the Canada geese offered a
means of communication between the island and the corn trough, and
Jack and Jill long ago became expert in running along the top of this
ticklish pathway.
Daily the two squirrels made pilgrimages to the corn trough, eaten to
repletion, and then returned to the island. The ducks and the geese
always swam close to the fence, flapping their wings and uttering
hoarse cries of rage, but were never able to catch the nimble
squirrels. Little by little, however, Jack lost his native agility as
he partook of more and more of the rich food, and when he started back
from a particularly heavy feast he waddled slowly along the top of the
fence instead of hopping nimbly along as had been his wont.
One of the mallards saw him and realized that he was too heavy and too
well fed to move hurriedly. The duck sounded a cry which brought all
of its mates, and they attacked Jack viciously. The squirrel tried to
hurry, but at last was pushed off the fence and fell into the pond.
In an instant he was surrounded by big Canada geese. Persons on shore
saw him fight desperately for life, but finally he was forced under
water. The geese churned the pond into a foam, and when they swam
majestically away there was nothing to be seen of Jack.
Jill, who ran back and forth on the shore of the island while Jack was
fighting for his life, retired to a tree after the tragedy, and has not
been seen since. Keepers think that she will not try to reach the corn
trough any more.
LATEST ISSUES
MOTOR STORIES
The latest and best five-cent weekly. We won't say how interesting it
is. See for yourself. =High art colored covers. Thirty-two big pages.
Price, 5 cents.=
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.
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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_.
690--Dick Merriwell in the North Woods; or, The Timber Thieves of the
Floodwood.
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.
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.=
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.
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.
_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_
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_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, " ________________________________
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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
Transcriber's Notes:
Added table of contents.
Retained some inconsistent hyphenation; in many cases, words are
hyphenated when used as adjectives but unhyphenated when used as nouns.
Italics are represented with _underscores_, bold with =equal signs=.
Front and rear covers, accent is missing from "Role" in original;
retained inconsistency.
Page 1, corrected ? to ! after "Howdy, Dutch!"
Page 3, corrected "shimiiy" to "shiminy" in "Py shiminy grickets!"
Page 4, corrected "Wiley" to "Wily" in "Go back to your job, Wily."
Page 6, removed stray single quote after "going to keep it."
Page 8, added missing quote before "I'm the one."
Page 9, corrected typo "minues" in "Inside of five minutes."
Page 11, removed unnecessary quote before "Yes, he decided." (Adding a
quote after "Yes" would also have been an option; however, this series
usually does not quote thoughts).
Page 16, changed "doin 'a" to "doin' a."
Page 18, changed "go" to "got" in "What have you got to do with this
house?"
Page 19, changed "he" to "the" in "the loss o' that Hindoostanee."
Page 21, changed "foolishnes" to "foolishness."
Page 22, changed "fair to asume" to "fair to assume." Changed "every"
to "ever" in "on my mind ever since."
Page 24, expanded oe ligature to "oe" for this text edition. Ligature
retained in HTML version.
End of Project Gutenberg's Motor Matt's Make Up, by Stanley R. Matthews