"Li, there Hook out " shouted Harry Rattleton. "Hi, there Look out " echoed Bart Hodge, getting the words straight which Harry had twisted. "Get out of the way, fellows " warned Jack Diamond. "The juice that it's loaded with must be bug juice " squealed Danny Griswold. "It's crazy drunk " "Tut-tut-tut-turn the cuc-crank the other way " bellowed Joe Gamp. "This crank," said Bink Stubbs, giving Gamp a twist that spun him round like a top. "I've always believed that more than half of these new-fangled inventions are devices of Satan, and now I know it " grumbled Dismal Jones.

"Say, boys, just listen to that racket " It was Jack Diamond who spoke, and he addressed Frank Merriwell and several others of his friends. "It is certainly awful," came from Harry Rattleton, one of the boys. "I can't stand much of this," put in Bruce Browning. "It is enough to drive one crazy." The boys had just entered the outer portals of a Chinese theatre, located in Chinatown, the Celestial portion of San Francisco. There was a great crowd, and it was only with difficulty that they made their way along the narrow and gloomy passages leading to the theatre proper.

"Ah, there, Merriwell " Frank Merriwell was crossing the campus at good old Yale, and this cry, in a familiar voice, sounded from Durfee Hall. He turned his eyes toward the favorite dormitory, and seated at an open window on the ground floor he saw his classmate, Jones, he of the famous nickname, "Dismal." "Hello, Dismal," called Frank, "aren't you going to come out and shake hands with a fellow?" "I would if it wasn't for the shower," responded Jones, whose usually solemn face was graver than ever. "Shower?" repeated Frank, looking up in surprise at the perfectly clear sky. "I see that...

Ping pang crash Frank Merriwell, making a sharp turn in a narrow mountain path, felt his bicycle strike something which gave under his weight with a snapping, musical sound, and almost precipitated him over the handle bars of his machine. Bart Hodge, who was close behind, checked himself with difficulty, and sang out: "What's wrong, Frank?"

Once more the bicycle boys pushed on westward, and it must be said that in spite of all their perils they were in the best of spirits. The beautiful valley in Utah was left behind, and some time later found them on the edge of the great American Desert. Water was not to be had, and they began to suffer greatly from thirst. The thirst at last became so great that nearly all were ready to drop from exhaustion. Toots was much affected, and presently he let out a long wail of discouragement.

It is not a pleasant experience to wake up on a beautiful morning to the realization that one has failed. There seems a relentless irony in nature herself that the day that dawns on a night when our glittering hopes have become dead, dull ashes of despair and ruin should be bright and warm with the sun's genial rays. So Frank Merriwell felt this fine morning in Puelbo, Colorado. The night before, with high hopes, he had produced his new play, "For Old Eli." He recalled the events of that first production with almost a shudder. "For Old Eli" had been a failure, a flat, appalling, stupefying...

"Off---" "At last " "Hurrah " The tramp steamer "Eagle" swung out from the pier and was fairly started en her journey from New York to Liverpool. On the deck of the steamer stood a group of five persons, three of whom had given utterance to the exclamations recorded above. On the pier swarmed a group of Yale students, waving hands, hats, handkerchiefs, bidding farewell to their five friends and acquaintances on the steamer. Over the water came the familiar Yale cheer. From the steamer it was answered.