FAME--AND A LITTLE FORTUNE.
"The returns are in from Devil's Lake City and Minnewaukon. Time, two
hours and seven minutes. Distance traveled, ninety miles. This was
at the rate of a little less than forty-five miles an hour, and the
government ought to be completely satisfied. I know I am. Motor Matt,
allow me to congratulate you."
One of the officers was doing the speaking.
It was three hours after the sensational finish of the trial. The
crowds had departed. McGlory, a few officers, Cameron, and Matt were in
the tent at Camp Traquair. Cameron, his head bandaged, was lying on a
cot, but he was wide awake and smiling.
"I knew he could do the trick," said Cameron; "in fact, I've been
confident of that ever since I saw him wabble around on his first
flight with the aëroplane. What beats me, though, is how those ropes
became notched."
"Sergeant O'Hara thinks he knows how it happened," explained the
officer who had read off the _June Bug's_ record. "He and the other
three guards were having a game of seven-up, last night, when they
should have been giving their entire attention to watching the
aëroplane. O'Hara thought he heard a noise around the machine. He
investigated, but found no cause for uneasiness. After that, O'Hara
declares, the card playing stopped; but, it now seems clear, the evil
had already been done."
"We don't know that this fellow calling himself Siwash Charley was the
scoundrel who filed the guy ropes," spoke up another officer.
"It's a positive certainty, in my own mind," declared Cameron.
"What your individual belief is, lieutenant, would hardly stand at a
court-martial, or in a court of law."
"That's true, yes, sir. Siwash Charley was seen in Devil's Lake City
yesterday----"
"Circumstantial, but hardly conclusive. He can't be found now. Fully
a hundred men have been looking for him and are now on the trail, but
Siwash Charley, if he was here, has vanished."
"I'm too happy over the way everything came out," put in Matt, "to
waste any thoughts on Siwash Charley. The aëroplane has made good.
There's no doubt about the sale to the government?"
"Not the slightest," came a chorus from the officers.
"There can't possibly be, Matt," added Cameron.
"That telegram of mine was sent to Mrs. Traquair?" Matt went on.
"It was sent from the post within half an hour after the aëroplane
landed. By this time, Mrs. Traquair knows what Motor Matt has done for
her."
"It wasn't that that I wanted her to understand, but the fact that
a little fortune had come to her, and that she was no longer in the
clutches of that loan shark, Murgatroyd."
"She knows that, too. A little fortune, I understand, has also come to
Motor Matt."
"And more fame," put in McGlory, "than one modest young chap like my
pard knows how to shoulder."
"What little fortune there is," smiled Matt, "is to be divided with
my chum, Joe McGlory, who was a bigger help to me than I imagine he
realized. Part of the fame should be his, too."
"Speak to me about that!" chuckled the cowboy. "Fame! Oh, yes, I ought
to be plastered with it. Why, I wouldn't have gone up in the _June Bug_
for all the fame they tacked onto Napoleon."
There was a general laugh at this.
"I wonder what's become of Ping?" Matt inquired anxiously. "It isn't
like him to hide out on us, in this fashion. The last I saw of him was
last night."
"There is something queer about that," averred McGlory. "He ought to
have been around to exult, Ping had, and it's----"
O'Hara stuck his head in at the tent flap, just at that moment.
"Beggin' yer pardon, sors, but there's an Injun just come, totin' a
half-baked Chink. Do yez want thim insoide?"
"Sure!" cried Matt. "Send them in."
A Sioux Indian, looking anything but the noble red man in his moccasins
and coat, hat, and trousers, pigeon toed his way into the tent with a
brief but respectful "How!"
Behind him, half carried and half dragged, came Ping!
The boy was a sight.
He was bareheaded and barefooted; his usually neat blouse and baggy
trousers were torn and soiled; his hands were bleeding, and there was a
wild, despairing look on his yellow face. The wildness and the despair
vanished, however, when he caught sight of Matt.
"By Klismas!" he gurgled. "Shiwas Charley no killee Motol Matt?
Hoop-a-la!" and Ping ran to Matt and dropped down on his knees in front
of him, hugging one of his hands in a maudlin expression of joy.
"Where have you been, Ping?" asked Matt.
"Allee same woods. Shiwas makee tie hands and feet, stoppee talk with
gag. Whoosh! My thinkee you go topside, my no come tellee what Shiwas
do. Velly bad pidgin!"
Then, little by little, Matt got the whole story of Ping's experience.
"You are positive Siwash Charley was one of the men who knocked you
down, here at the camp, and carried you into the woods?" asked Matt.
"My savvy Shiwas plenty much," declared Ping.
"I guess there's our proof, gentlemen," said Cameron. "Siwash can't
dodge that."
"Hardly," said one of the officers. "If Siwash is caught, he'll be
taken care of. What a dastardly piece of work! What made the fellow
such an enemy of yours, Matt?"
"He was only a tool in the hands of another," said Matt. "That other
man was an enemy of Traquair's, and the fellow didn't want the
aëroplane to stand the test she faced to-day. The money Mrs. Traquair
is to receive will enable her to pay a mortgage which this other
scoundrel holds on a quarter section of land in Wells County."
"And all this double-dealing is about a mortgage on a quarter section
of prairie land! It hardly seems possible."
"There is something about that land I don't understand," admitted
Matt. "But that's the way the matter stands, anyhow, no matter what is
back of the mortgage. The government, I presume," he added, "merely
buys the aëroplane? What it pays for the machine isn't a purchase of
Traquair's patents?"
"Not at all," went on the officer who had been doing most of
the talking. "The government simply buys this aëroplane, called
the--er--the _June Bug_--a name, by the way, which I don't fancy--and
the government likewise secures the right to purchase any other
aëroplane using the Traquair patents, or to build such machines itself,
paying Traquair's heirs at law a royalty."
"That," said Matt, "is liable to make Mrs. Traquair a rich woman."
"Well, hardly, unless the government goes into the aëroplane business
rather more extensively than I think. Still, Mrs. Traquair should be
assured of a modest competence, say, a hundred thousand dollars, or
such a matter."
McGlory reeled on his chair.
"Modest competence!" he gulped. "Sufferin' poorhouses! Why, Mrs.
Traquair wouldn't know how to spend a quarter of that money. She----"
"Tillygram, sor," announced O'Hara, again thrusting his head through
the tent flap. "It jist came down from th' post an' has th' name av
Motor Matt on th' face av ut."
Matt took the envelope and tore it open. His face crimsoned as he read,
and he started to put the yellow slip away in his pocket.
But McGlory grabbed it.
"Listen to this once," said he, and read aloud:
"'How can a poor woman thank you for what you have done? You, and you
alone, have saved poor Harry Traquair's wife and children from more
bitterness and hardship than you will ever realize. God bless you!
MRS. TRAQUAIR.'"
THE END.
THE NEXT NUMBER (25) WILL CONTAIN
Motor Matt's Reverse;
OR,
CAUGHT IN A LOSING CAUSE.
Plotters Three--The New Aeroplane--Treachery and
Tragedy--Murgatroyd's First Move--A Startling Plan--The Air-line
into Trouble--Nothing Doing in Sykestown--Brought to Earth--The Coil
Tightens--The Door in the Hillside--A Revelation for Matt--Pecos
Takes a Chance--Besieged--The Broker's Game--Cant Phillips,
Deserter--The Losing Cause.
MOTOR STORIES
THRILLING ADVENTURE MOTOR FICTION
NEW YORK, August 7, 1909.
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ORMOND G. SMITH, }
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STREET & SMITH, Publishers,
79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York City.
TRICKED BY TWO.
CONCLUSION.
Neatly ensconced under the bed clothes, and with its horrible fleshless
head laid in ghastly mockery upon his pillow, was a human skeleton.
For a moment Guy Hereford stared at the hideous object. Then recovering
himself with a strong effort, he shouted violently for his boy Rufus.
The negro came into the room, showing a double row of magnificent
ivories in a grin that stretched almost from ear to ear.
"What does this mean, Rufe?" demanded Guy angrily, pointing to the
skull on his pillow.
"Doan' you get excited, boss," said the nigger, still grinning. "I done
dat. I been all day gettin' him. Nebber had such a job in all my bawn
days."
"Have you gone clean crazy?" cried Guy in amazed perplexity.
"No, sah. _Dat you!_" was Rufe's amazing reply. "Doan' you be angry,
boss," he went on hurriedly, as Guy stepped suddenly toward him. "I
done discovered a splendiferous plan to obfuscate dat dar Deacon, and
dat am part ob de invention. I tell you dat am you."
Guy was beyond speech. He could only gaze helplessly at the beaming
face of the negro.
Rufus, proud as a peacock, condescended to explain. "It dis way, sah.
You going to build a new house soon, ain't you?"
"I was," replied Guy gloomily.
"Dat all right, den. Now, doan' you be down-hearted, sah. Dis niggah
bossing dis heah job."
"For Heaven's sake explain, Rufe," exclaimed Guy.
"I goin' to, sah. It dis way. Dis am de time for burning de woods,
ain't it?"
Guy nodded. For the life of him he could not imagine what the man was
driving at.
"An' grass am good an' long right up to de back ob de garden?"
"Yes."
"Den dis my plan, sah. I set out fire in de woods to-night, set him in
ten, twelve places. Dere's a win' blowin' from de west. Ef we doan'
touch it de house burn down sure." He paused with an illuminating
chuckle.
Light began to dawn on Guy.
"You mean," he said slowly, "that we're to burn down the shanty and
make them think that I've burned in it. That skeleton's to be me."
"You done hit de bull's face in once, sah!" cried the negro in high
delight. "Dat just de way I figure it out. In de morning dat no-'count
Deacon, he come round to see you an' find out if you done got de money
for him. Den he find nothin' but de burned-up house an' de burned-up
bones."
"'Pon my soul, Rufe, I believe it's workable," exclaimed Guy, a light
of hope appearing on his puzzled face.
"In course it am workable, sah. Deacon, he can't get no money from a
daid man. Dat one thing mighty sure!"
"But won't he suspect anything?" suggested Guy.
"Not if dis niggah still alive," declared Rufe emphatically. "I tell
you, Marse Guy, I goin' to do down dat man proper. He find me hyah,
just a-howlin' and a-carryin' on ober dem ole bones, an' I tell him all
about how de fire come in out ob de woods an' how it cotch de house,
an' how I done try to pull you out. Oh, I fool him 'to eights.'"
Guy couldn't help laughing. Rufe's enjoyment over the prospective
humbugging of Deacon was so intense.
"You see, Marse Guy," went on Rufe eagerly, "Deacon he be so glad to
think you daid, he never bother to t'ink whether you foolin' him. He
next heir, an' all he t'ink be to get de place an' all de t'ings dat
belong to you. He nebber go to dat inquisition at all."
"And what's to become of me in the meantime?" asked Guy.
"You got money, ain't you?"
"Yes, luckily I've got twenty dollars or so in the house."
"Well, dat all right. Take de train an' go down to Tampa on de Gulf.
Swimmin' in de sea do you a power o' good, boss. I reckon you better
take some oder name an' den walk down an' cotch de train at some place
furder down de line dan Pine Lake."
After a little more talk Guy and his man settled up all the details. It
was agreed that the house should be sacrificed, and that Guy himself
should temporarily disappear and go down to Tampa. After the inquest on
Blissett, Rufe was to write to him there at the post office and tell
him how things turned out.
The worst of it was that Dandy had to be left behind. It would arouse
suspicion if the pony were taken away. But Guy, who was anxious above
all things that his horse should not fall into Deacon's hands, even for
a few days, thought of a way out of the difficulty. He gave Rufe a note
for his wages for two months, and told him that on the following day he
was to go into Pine Lake and file a lien on the pony for his pay.
Then the two set to work to take Guy's few articles of value out of the
shanty and hide them. This they did by rolling them in a big rubber
blanket and burying them in the dry, sandy soil in the orange grove.
This took some little time, and it was nearly eleven o'clock when Guy
was at last ready to go.
"Now, mind you, Rufe," were his last words to the negro, "don't you
overdo it, and don't let Deacon see that you hate him. A little soft
sawder won't do any harm."
"Doan' you worry your haid, boss," replied Rufe consolingly. "I reckon
I keep up my end agains' Deacon or any of dem folk. To-morrow, after I
seen Deacon, I go to Pine Lake an' hear de inquest on Blissett. Den I
write an' tell you all dat happen."
Guy nodded. "I shall be desperately anxious to hear the verdict," he
said. "If Deacon doesn't give evidence, the worst they're likely to
return is manslaughter."
"Doan' you worry, boss," said Rufe confidently. "I reckon it am going
to be 'justificational homeyside.' Deacon, he won't give no evidence.
He be too busy gettin' ready to move over heah."
"Only hope so," said Guy. "Now, good-by, Rufe. Remember all I've told
you."
Master and man shook hands, and Guy, slinging a small bag across
his shoulder on a stick, walked away from the shanty which had been
his only home for four long years of hard work and happiness, and
disappeared into the forest.
He had not gone far before a flickering glow gleamed redly on the
serried ranks of tall, straight trunks.
He turned. Half a dozen pin points of fire were visible on the far side
of the clearing. They grew rapidly, and presently the night sky was all
aglow with leaping tongues of flame.
The soft breeze which soughed through the tops of the pines sent the
flames sweeping down upon the little house, which stood a squat, black
mass between the watcher and the blaze behind.
Fascinated by the sight, Guy stood motionless, watching the destruction
sweep upon his home.
The many little fires joined forces, and Guy could plainly hear the
roar and crackle as the tall, dry grass burst into hissing sparks.
There was little chance of any one interfering to save the house. Now
that Blissett was dead Guy had no neighbor within a mile, and in the
spring of the year fires are too frequent in the Florida woods for any
one to pay attention. The cattlemen are always busy burning off the old
grass to get fresh pasture for their herds.
Now the whole sky was alight, and the blaze illuminated the sleeping
woods far and near. Red-hot sparks were falling like rain upon the
shingle roof of the cabin.
Another minute, and little streaks of red fire were winding like snakes
about the eaves.
"She's going," muttered Guy sorrowfully.
Yes, once the fire got hold of the sun-dried pine of which the house
was built the flames rushed up in great leaping columns. The place
burned like a tar barrel, and the glow became so intense that Guy
shrank away further into the woods for fear of being observed by any
one who might possibly have been attracted by the blaze.
Still he could not tear himself away from the sight of the destruction
of his old home. Sheltering behind a huge pine trunk, he watched till,
with a loud crash and a hurricane of sparks, the roof fell in, and of
the shanty no more remained than a shapeless pile.
With a deep sigh Guy Hereford turned away, and never stopped until at
four o'clock in the morning he boarded the south-bound mail train at
the small wayside station of Kissochee.
* * * * *
"Any letter for George Hatfield?"
The smart clerk took up a bundle of letters, ran them rapidly through,
and flung them down. "Nope!"
Guy Hereford's face fell.
"Quite sure?" he asked.
The clerk glared.
"What do you think?" he asked sharply, and the other turned slowly away.
"What's happened?" he thought uneasily. "Why hasn't Rufe written?"
He was hardly outside the post office before a bare-legged nigger boy
thrust a paper in his face. "Here y'are, boss. _Tampa Sentinel!_ All de
details ob de horrific tragedy up in Orange County."
Guy grabbed a paper, shoved a quarter into the astonished youngster's
hand, and, without waiting for change, was off like a shot.
He reached his room in the boarding house where he had put up, and tore
the paper open.
Yes, here it was--a whole column!
"Strange double tragedy near Pine Lake! Well-known cattleman killed.
His nearest neighbor burned to death. Two inquests in one day."
So much for the headlines.
Guy gave a deep sigh of relief. "Nothing about murder, anyhow," he
muttered.
Then he began to read rapidly. Slowly his expression of anxiety changed
to relief, and then to amusement. Finally he burst into a fit of
laughter.
"Fine! Dandy!" he cried. "My good Oliver, you are a peach, and no
mistake. This is the absolute limit." And dropping the paper he lay
back in his chair and laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Dat am too bad, Marse Guy. I nebber t'ink you heah it all from dat
fool newspaper."
The deep voice made Guy fairly jump. Springing to his feet he swung
round, and there was Rufe, dressed in his best Sunday-go-to-meeting
clothes, and with an expression of deep annoyance on his ebony face.
"You Rufe?"
"Yes, sah. I come down all de way by de train to tell you de news, an'
now dat blame paper done tole you de whole t'ing."
"Not a bit of it, Rufe. It hasn't told me half. If you hadn't turned up
I should have taken the next train back to see you and find out just
what has happened. Tell me, is Deacon in possession?"
Rufe, somewhat mollified, grinned. "Yes, boss, he dar right enough. He
camping in de stable."
"Hasn't got Dandy, I hope?" put in Guy anxiously.
"No, sah. Dandy in de libery stable at Pine Lake."
"That's all right. Now go on. Tell me what happened. Did he come over
yesterday morning?"
"Yes, sah; he come ober about ten. An' you ought to hab seen his face
when he foun' de house burned!"
"He asked for me, I suppose?"
"Yes, he done ask for you at once, an' I show him de bones, an' tell
him you all burned up. Fust he look flabbergasted, den he sort o'
chuckle, and I feel like whanging him one ober de haid."
"What happened then?"
"He act like he think he boss an' I his niggah. He tell me go get a
wagon an' carry de bones into Pine Lake. Say it sabe trouble hab one
inquisition 'stead ob two. I act meek, an go borrow a spring wagon an'
hitch Dandy up, an' we take de bones in, an' he tell de sheriff. I
t'ink dat sheriff kind ob like you, Marse Guy. He mighty worried. Den
he say; 'Quite right. Hab one inquisition on bofe de bodies.'"
"Did you go, Rufe?"
"You bet I go, boss. Firs' dey hab Blissett's body. All dem cracker
chaps look at de haid, an' Deacon he gib evidence an say he seen it
all. He say dat Blissett done tried to shoot you, and you didn't hab no
pistol, but you was real brave an' ride hard at him, an' knock him off
de hawse, an' de hawse kick him an' run away into de woods."
Rufe stopped to chuckle at the remembrance. Guy laughed too. He quite
understood Deacon's motive.
His cousin wanted to pose in a good light before the jury, so that
there could be no chance of suspicion falling on him that he was
implicated in his--Guy's--death.
"Den de sheriff he get up an' say dat you was a very nice gen'elman,"
went on Rufe, "an' dat Mistah Deacon's evidence was very straight,
an' dat dere was only one verdict for dem to give, an' dat he left de
matter in dere hands.
"So dey just talk a bit among demselves, an' den de foreman, old Abe
Mizell, he get up and say dat dey was all agreed dat Harvey Blissett
was killed 'cause his skull not so hard as de heel ob his hawse.
"Den dey hab de bones in, an' I gib evidence." Rufe swelled with pride.
"What did you say, Rufe?"
"Dey ask me if I could 'dentify dem dere bones. I say I reckon dey mus'
be you's, 'cause I find 'em in among de cinders ob your bed. I couldn't
sw'ar, I tole 'em, because I warn't dar when it happens. I tell 'em I
coming home from courting my gal, an' see de fire an' run; but t'ain't
no good. I too late. All burned up before I get dar. Anyhow, I ain't
seed you since."
"So they gave it accidental death?"
"Yes, sah. Dat's what dey said, and said dey was sorry, 'cause you was
a promising young gen'elman."
"And what did Deacon do?" anxiously inquired Guy.
"He go round to de record office to get your land put in his name,"
chuckled Rufe. "Den I see him ride out on a libery stable hawse."
Guy roared.
"I reckon it going to be de wors' shock he ebber get in his life when
you rides up to de ole place," remarked Rufe presently.
"I rather expect it will," replied Guy feebly, wiping his eyes. "Come
on, Rufe. There's a train back at twelve-thirty. Just time for dinner,
and then the sooner we're home again the better."
Guy's first task, when he arrived at Pine Lake, was to call on Anderson
the sheriff.
Anderson, who was fat and fifty, went positively purple at sight of the
man upon whom he had held an inquest!
Guy told him the whole story, all about the quarrel between himself and
Blissett, about Deacon's threats and Rufe's plan. The only thing he did
not mention was the fact that Deacon had stolen and sold Blissett's
horse.
Anderson listened first in amazement, then with amusement, and finally
went off into a fit of laughter.
"That Rufe's a wonder," he said. "I didn't reckon there was a nigger in
Florida with that much sense. But, look here, young fellow, you've been
taking mighty big liberties with the law. According to law you're dead,
and buried, too. What d'ye reckon we're going to do about that?"
"Don't know, I'm sure, Mr. Anderson. That's what I came to you about,"
replied Guy coolly.
"Reckoned I could fix it for you, eh?" There was a sly twinkle in old
Anderson's eyes. "I guess I'll have to try. But, say, don't you go
wasting time in here. Ef that thar cousin o' yours hears as you ain't
as dead as he hed supposed, chances are he'll be getting his gun."
"All right, sheriff," said Guy. "I'll get along. I am under obligations
to you about the business. I'm afraid it's given you a lot of bother."
"I ain't kicking," said Anderson dryly. "The State pays my fees for an
inquest. Good-by."
Ten minutes later Guy and Rufe were in a hired buggy, with Dandy in the
shafts, spinning lightly homeward over the sandy roads.
It was dusk when they reached the gate.
"So you've brought the horse back," came a sharp voice as Rufe pulled
up in front of the stable. "A mighty good job you did. Take him out and
tie him up. Then you can sling your hook as fast as you like."
"What for should I git from my boss' land?" asked Rufe with such a
delightfully innocent air that Guy, close by under a tree, almost
laughed out loud.
"Git!" Deacon roared, "or by----"
A muscular hand gripped him by the back of the neck, and cut short his
sentence.
Deacon squirmed round. His eyes fell on Guy Hereford; he gave a scream
like a woman's, and dropped as if he'd been shot in the head.
"Now, Oliver," said Guy quietly. "Perhaps you'll be good enough to
explain what the thunder you mean by coming and camping on my property."
The man rose slowly to his feet, and his eyes were venomous. "So you
tricked me," he ground out between clinched teeth.
"Well, I rather think we did. Rufe and I between us," replied Guy
coolly.
Deacon burst into a storm of furious invective. He cursed Guy by
everything he could think of. At last he wound up.
"You needn't think you've got the best of me. I'll raise the country
against you. They'll have to have one inquest over again. I'll see they
have both. I don't care what happens to me. I'll see you hung yet. I
swear it."
Guy waited until the other stopped, exhausted.
Then he said very quietly: "Oliver, what's the punishment for horse
stealing? Five years' penitentiary, isn't it? I think that's the
minimum."
It was quite enough. Deacon went white as ashes.
"Listen to me," said Guy with sudden sternness. "If you're anywhere in
Orange County this time to-morrow I'll denounce you for stealing and
selling Harvey Blissett's horse."
Without another word Deacon slunk off into the gloom.
Guy never again set eyes upon him, for less than six months later the
ruffian was killed in a brawl with a Cuban cigar maker.
IDAHO TO FEED ELKS.
An effort will be made by the State to prevent as far as possible a
repetition of the wanton destruction of large numbers of elk which took
place in Fremont County last winter.
The animals had been driven by extreme hunger to approach the
settlements, and, weak from starvation and struggling in the unusually
deep snow when they reached the lowlands, were killed and skinned. In
many cases, reduced to mere skeletons, their meat could not be used.
The idea of the game warden is to arrange if possible to have cheap
hay shipped into the country where the elk abound and place it where
the animals, when their natural food supply gives out, will be able to
find food. Several of the ranches in the elk country have put out hay
for the animals for a number of years, and they have not been long in
locating it when the snow gets deep in the hills. In this manner they
are enabled to keep in good condition throughout the winter, and when
spring arrives return to their usual haunts.
The eastern part of the State forms the principal range for these
animals which the authorities are endeavoring to protect from the pot
hunters and specimen seekers. Stringent laws have been enacted, which,
if carried out, will go a great way toward protecting the king of North
American game animals.
NOISY AVIANS.
The bellbird, which makes perhaps, in its natural state, the greatest
noise of any known avian, is found both in South America and certain
parts of Africa. Its voice will carry on a still day a distance of
quite three miles. Its note is like the tolling of a distant church
bell, and is uttered during the heat of the day, when every other bird
has ceased to sing and nature is hushed in silence. The hornbill, a
bird which is widely distributed in India, the Malay Archipelago, and
Africa, has also a very loud note. Its call has been described as
"between the shriek of a locomotive and the bray of a donkey," and can
be heard a distance of a couple of miles.
FISH THAT CANNOT SWIM.
More than one species of fish that cannot swim are known to
naturalists. Perhaps the most singular of these is the maltha, a
Brazilian fish, whose organs of locomotion only enable it to crawl or
walk or hop. The anterior (pectoral) fins of the maltha, which are
quite small, are not capable of acting on the water, but can only move
backward and forward, having truly the form of thin paws. Both these
and the ventral and anal fins are very different from the similar
fins in other fishes, and could not serve for swimming at all. Other
examples of non-swimming fishes include the sea-horse, another most
peculiarly shaped inhabitant of the sea, and the starfish.
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420--Buffalo Bill and Old Weasel-top; or, The Man From Nowhar.
421--Buffalo Bill's Steel Arm Pard; or, Old Weasel-top's Mission.
422--Buffalo Bill's Aztec Guide; or, The White Indian.
423--Buffalo Bill and Little Firefly; or, Playing with Death.
424--Buffalo Bill in the Aztec City; or, Little Firefly's Friendship.
425--Buffalo Bill's Balloon Escape; or, Out of the Grip of the Great
Swamp.
426--Buffalo Bill and the Guerrillas; or, The Flower Girl of San
Felipe.
427--Buffalo Bill's Border War; or, The Mexican Vendetta.
428--Buffalo Bill's Mexican Mix-up; or, The Bullfighter's Defiance.
429--Buffalo Bill and the Gamecock; or, The Red Trail on the Canadian.
430--Buffalo Bill and the Cheyenne Raiders; or, The Spurs of the
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431--Buffalo Bill's Whirlwind Finish; or, The Gamecock Wins.
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335--Three Brave Boys; or, Adventures in the Balloon World. By Frank
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336--Archie Atwood, Champion; or, An All-around Athlete's Career. By
Cornelius Shea.
337--Dick Stanhope Afloat; or, The Eventful Cruise of the _Elsinore_.
By Harrie Irving Hancock.
338--Working His Way Upward; or, From Footlights to Riches. By Fred
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339--The Fourteenth Boy; or, How Vin Lovell Won Out. By Weldon J.
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340--Among the Nomads; or, Life in the Open. By the author of
"Through Air to Fame."
341--Bob, the Acrobat; or, Hustle and Win Out. By Harrie Irving
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342--Through the Earth; or, Jack Nelson's Invention. By Fred Thorpe.
343--The Boy Chief; or, Comrades of Camp and Trail. By John De Morgan.
344--Smart Alec; or, Bound to Get There. By Weldon J. Cobb.
345--Climbing Up; or, The Meanest Boy Alive. By Harrie Irving Hancock.
346--Comrades Three; or, With Gordon Keith in the South Seas. By
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347--A Young Snake-charmer; or, The Fortunes of Dick Erway. By Fred
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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.=
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.
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.
_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
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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.
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_Dear Sirs: Enclosed please find_ ___________________________
_cents for which send me_:
TIP TOP WEEKLY, Nos. ________________________________
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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.
To be Published on July 12th.
21--Motor Matt's Launch; or, A Friend in Need.
To be Published on July 19th.
22--Motor Matt's Enemies; or, A Struggle for the Right.
To be Published on July 26th.
23--Motor Matt's Prize; or, The Pluck That Wins.
To be Published on August 2nd.
24--Motor Matt on the Wing; or, Flying for Fame and Fortune.
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.
Italics are represented with _underscores_, bold with =equal signs=.
Replaced oe ligatures with "oe" (ligatures retained in HTML version).
Page 1, corrected "Tranquair" to "Traquair" ("keep Matt from flying the
Traquair").
Page 5, added missing open quote before "Rather a peculiar way."
Changed single quote to double quote before "No, there is no way out."
Page 6, added missing quote after "Yes, yes."
Page 17, corrected "Mat" to "Matt" ("Matt, taking from his pocket").
Added missing apostrophe to "Well, I haven't got it."
Page 19, changed single to double quote after "destroy that aëroplane?"
Page 20, added missing "with" to "'I'll go with you,' said Cameron
promptly." Removed unnecessary comma from "my lad."
Page 25, changed "suspicious" to "suspicions" ("recalled his
suspicious").
Page 28, changed "forune" to "fortune" ("little forune had come to
her").
In "Noisy Avians," changed "can be heard" to "can be heard."
End of Project Gutenberg's Motor Matt on the Wing, by Stanley R. Matthews