Frank Merriwell at Fardale
?l
By GOBEHT PATTEJf The Original BUST L STUNSH
SYNOPSIS
When Bart Hodge, a vein youth of sixteen,
alights from a train at Fardale. he stumbles
over a hall-blind dog and in a rage kicks
the animal. The dog's owner. Tad Jones, a
small, shabby boy who supports his wid
owed mother, denounces him. This nettles
Bart and he slaps Tad. Frank Merriwell.
an orphan of Hodge's age, prevents him
from further molesting Tad. Although the
two do not come to blows. Hodge sneeringly
says they will have to settle their differ
ences later. He and Merriwell had come to
Fardale to attend Fardale academy. While
Hodge consults Joe Bemls. truck driver for
John Snodd, about his baggage. Merriwell.
accompanied by Tad and his dog. Shag,
start walking to Snodd' s place. Presently
the Snodd truck, with Hodge driving, rum
bles down the road and kills Tad's dog.
Occupying a room next to Merriwell' s in
the Snodd home is Barney Mulloy, who dis
likes Hodge. They become good friends.
Merriwell offers to help Mulloy get into
one of the academy dormitories by appeal
ing to Professor Scotch, a friend of Merri
well's Uncle Asher. As they leave the
house that evening Hodge is talking to Inza
Burr age. a friend of Belinda Snodd. Later
they meet Tad, who now has another dog.
That night Bart Hodge crashes a party
given by Belinda Snodd. Hodge sings and
the lovely Inza Burrage plays the piano.
When Merriwell, seated on the porch with
Mulloy. sings a comic song, Hodge rushes
out. accusing him of insulting Inza. She
steps between them, telling Hodge that Mer
riwell is too cheap to deserve his notice.
Next day Merriwell and Mulloy rush to a
grove on John Snodd's farm to warn a pic
nic party that a large dog which Silas G lea
son gave Tad is mad and running amuck.
Hodge, tries to convince Inza that this is just
a trick of Merriwell's.
CHAPTER III? Continued
Then, further away, he saw Tad
Jones panting along in pursuit of
the beast. And once more the boy
lifted his voice in a shrill warning
cry that rang through the grove:
"Mad dog! Run! Run! Run!"
That snapped Hodge round to
look, and what he saw took the
starch out of him in the wink of
an eye. In the wink of another eye,
he was going away from there with
out bothering to apologize for his
haste. In his rush, he forgot about
everything and everybody but him
self.
The grove was abruptly filled with
the wild screams of frightened girls,
who fled like snowflakes before a
gale.
All but Inza Burrage. She, also,
started to run at last, but with al
most her first step her foot turned
under her and she went down. When
she tried to scramble up she top
pled again in a fluttering, helpless
heap.
"My ankle!" she gasped. "It's
broken!"
Merriwell sprang forward, but he
didn't try to pick her up and run
with her. That, he knew, would be
foolish. He caught up the coat that
Bart Hodge had taken off some time
before. Swiftly he wrapped it round
and round his left fore-arm. His
heart was steady now, though his
face was still tense and gray.
Sitting on the ground and clinging
to her injured ankle with both
hands, Inza Burrage watched him
do that. She saw him face the on
coming dog, with her only a few
feet behind him. The foaming,
snarling beast was racing straight
at them. The carving knife was
still in Frank's hand.
He crouched a little and lifted his
bent left arm as the animal sprang,
with a roar, at his throat. The
creature's gleaming teeth closed on
that arm, around which Bart
Hodge's coat had been tightly twist
ea.
The boy reeled back a step, strik
ing with the knife. The force of
the heavy animal's lunge had stag
gered him, and he barely touched
the dog with that first stab.
Inza was paralyzed with fear. She
could not have moved, then, had
she tried.
Dropping back to the ground with
its hind feet, the crazed beast tried
to pull Frank down.
Tad Jones had stopped, a rod
away. He was wringing his hands.
Almost blinded by tears, he cried
chokingly:
"Oh, Tige! Stop, Tigel Oh, Frank,
Frank!"
Merriwell did not hear him. He
heard nothing, saw nothing but the
raging, red-eyed beast he was bat
tling with. He struck again and
slashed the dog, but that seemed
only to make it still more furious.
Barney Mulloy had obeyed Frank
and hurried all the girls but Inza
away. Now he came running back
through the trees and saw a sight
that made his heart stand still.
"Oh, help him!" begged Inza, as
Barney came up. "Oh, it's terrible !
Help him! Do something, quick!"
The Irish boy looked wildly around
for a rock or a club, and could find
neither. He seized the small limb
of a tree and began to twist it off.
The dog yanked Frank down to his
knees.
The tree limb was still resisting
Barney. He let it go and whirled
to do his best for Frank with his
bare hands.
A voice shouted: "Keep away!
Let me get at that critter! I'll
fix him!"
John Soodd had arrived at last,
with his gun. But when he tried
to get mto position to use the
weapon he was baffled for several
moments by the furious movements
of the dog, which made it impossi
ble to fir* without hitting Merriwell
or somebody else.
At last Snodd found hia chance
and the muzzle of the old gun waa
almost touching the beaat'a aide
when the trigger waa pulled. The
gun roared and the dog dropped, a
ragged piece of Hodge'a torn coat
still in its foam-covered mouth.
The blood-stained carving knife
slipped from Frank's fingers as Mul
loy lifted him to hia feet. He was
breathing heavily.
"Thanks, Mr. Snodd," he said
huskily. "You got here just in time.
I'm just about all in."
"I got here as fast as my legs
would fetch me," said the farmer,
staring at Merriwell. "I swan, I
never expected to see anything like
this in all my born days." He was
still breathing t:ard from his run
and the excitement. "Young fel
ler, you had nerve to stand up to
a mad dog half as big as an ele
phant and fight him with a carving
knife. Wasn't you scairt at all?"
The ghost of a smile crept into
Frank's face, to which a little color
was slowly returning. "Why, yes,
Mr. Snodd," he admitted, "but there
didn't seem to be anything else for
me to do, under the circumstances."
Inza Burrage hadn't taken her
eyes off him. Still sitting on the
ground and clinging to her aching
ankle, she spoke up in a choked
and stammering voice:
"Oh, he? he? Mr. Snodd, he did it
for me! I twisted my ankle, and
r
"I Guess We Better Examine
Your Arm First, Young Man."
fell. I couldn't run. That ? that ter
rible, terrible dog would have torn
me to pieces ? only for him."
Then she burst into tears.
Tad Jones had crept forward,
keeping his eyes turned away from
the dead dog. "They all skedad
dled!" he cried shrilly. "Ev'ry one
of 'em run away 'nd left Frank to
stop old Tige all by himself, Mr.
Snodd. I saw it, I did. That feller
Hodge was here, but he scooted like
a streak. The big coward!"
"But I told Barney to get the
girls away," said Frank. "He didn't
know what was happening, but he
came back when he found we
weren't with the others. Somebody
better take a look at Miss Bur
rage's ankle to see if it's broken."
"Huh!" grunted John Snodd. "I
guess we oeuer examine your arm
first, young man. Being bit by a
mad dog's a heap worse than break
ing a leg."
Bart Hodge had always hated and
feared dogs. The feeling was so in
tense that it had become what is
called a phobia. He did not know
the cause of it himself. It lay,
probably, in some forgotten inci
dent of his very early life.
No animal is quicker than a dog
to sense fear and dislike in a hu
man being. He is quick, too, to re
sent it, and he shows his resentment
or contempt.
It seemed to Bart that a thousand
dogs had let him know what they
thought of him. They had feered at
him with scornful eyes, they had
sneeringly given him a look at their
teeth, they had sniffed disdainfully
at his heels, and two or three of
them had nipped the calves of his
legs. Not one had taken a good
bite. They had acted as if they
were not sure they would like th?
taste.
There was, therefore, an undying
feud between Bartley Hodge and all
dogs. All his life he had looked
forward with dread to the time when
bad luck would force him to meet
a "mad" dog, but he had never seen
one until the day of the picnic in
Sn odd's grove. And now he hadn't
waited to meet him.
Hodge was out of the grove and on
his way to any place where the
crazy dog wouldn't be liable to come
before he fully knew what he was
doing. He realized it suddenly. A
picture of himself at that moment
flashed into his mind. It stopped
him as quick as he could put on the
brakes.
He turned round and saw several
of the frightened girls coming after
him. A sense of sham* drove him
back to meet them.
"Where's InzaT" he cried.
They didn't seem to hear him,
and he caught hold of Belinda Soodd
as she was panting by.
"Where's InzaT" he repeated,
holding her fast by the arm.
"Oh! Oh, I don't know!" She
could hardly speak, and her voice
shook like her whole body. "That ?
that awful dog! He ? she? I don't
know! It's terrible! Tm scared to
death!"
One of the other girls, a little
blonde, had stopped of her own ac
cord. She was trembling too, but
she gave Bart a look that was a
stiff blow to his pride. "You were
with her," she said. "Why don't
you know where she is?"
"Why, I ? I thought ? "
But he hadn't thought, and he
couldn't explain. He had taken to
his heels and left her, and now he
knew just what that made him look
like. He let go of Belinda Snodd's
arm and headed back for the grove,
on the jump again. It took cour
age of some kind for him to do that.
The sound of a gun came from
within the grove.
Neither Hodge nor the fleeing girls
had seen John Snodd coming, for
all of them had fled toward the high
way in the vicinity of the school
grounds. But the' report of that
gun gave Bart's heart a lift. It
meant, of course, that somebody
had fired at the dog. He put more
speed into his stride.
They were removing the torn,
foam-covered coat from Merriwell's
left arm when Bart came running
back through the trees. His mouth
open, his hands clutched tightly to
gether, Tad Jones was the pic
ture of suspense as he watched. Her
face damp with tears, Inza was still
sitting on the ground and watching
them also. No one appeared to hear
Hodge approaching.
He saw the dead dog lying where
it had fallen. Snodd had dropped
his gun a few steps away. That
explained a part of what had hap
pened, but he knew he could never
explain what he had done. Nobody
would understand, if he tried.
This realization stopped him, 30
feet away. What could he say?
What was there for him to say or
do?
Frank Merriwell was taking off
his own coat now. He looked pretty
sober, but still not as disturbed and
anxious as the others. Quickly he
thrust the sleeve of his shirt up
above the elbow.
"I don't believe the dog's teeth
touched me," he said. "If I'm right,
I owe it to Hodge's coat."
Snodd took hold of Frank's wrist
and turned his arm to inspect it
thoroughly. "By ginger!" he cried
in great relief. "I can't see even a
teeny scratch. Now if that don't
beat the world my head's a pun
kin!"
Barney Mulloy put an arm round
Merry's shoulders. His chin was
quivering a little, but he managed
to grin. "You lucky slob!" was all
he could say then.
But Tad Jones had less control.
"Gosh, I'm glad!" he cried hop
ping up and down as if trying to hop
out of his skin. "I'm glad, Frank!
I'm awful glad! If old Tige had
bit you I'd gone right off 'nd jumped
in the ocean, I would."
"Well, I'm not feeling so bad
abotit it myself," said Frank, after
taking a deep breath of relief. "And
it's lucky the insane beast didn't
eat you up, Tad."
"I've got something to say to Sile
Gleason," declared John Snodd
grimly. "Giving a little shaVer a
dog in that condition! He ought to
be made to smart for it."
Frank turned toward Inza without
stopping to put his coat on again.
That brought him round facing
Hodge, who still stood where he had
halted. They looked each other in
the eyes again, and tha flush of
shame on Bart's face could not be
mistaken. No sneering, no triumph
now; and Merry was not one to
kick a fellow when he was down.
"I had to make use of your coat,
Hodge," he said, "and I'm sure
you'll never want to wear it again.
I'll pay you for it."
Bart made no reply, and Frank
went to Inza and dropped on one
knee. "Now how about that ankle?"
he asked.
She wasn't looking at him now.
Her proud mouth was very humble.
"Are you sure ? dead sure ? you
were not touched by the teeth of
that awful dog?" she asked.
He smiled. "There isn't a mark
on me." ,
"It's marvelous! Never, never in
my life will I forget the ? the way
you fought that dog."
She wanted to say more than that,
but the words would not come. They
both felt awkward. He laughed to
cover his embarrassment.
"Well, I'll remember it a while
myself. I've had more fun doing
other things. You mustn't try to
walk on that foot. I don't believe it
will be such a hard job for Barney
and me to carry you back to Mr.
Snodd's house. You can't weigh a
ton."
Now she laughed too. "I'm an
awful lightweight," she said, "espe
cially above the ears."
Hodge heard it all. He had been
paying no attention to Mulloy, who
was staring at him with a look of
unspeakable contempt. Bart was
sorry he had come back there. That
had been another mistake. He might
have known there was nothing he
could do to put himself right.
Feeling as empty as a dry well,
he turned about and walked swiftly
and silently away.
Tad Jones was the torch that
started the story of Frank Mem
well's fight with the mad dog run
ning like wildfire through Fardale
village. But Pete Smith, the local
reporter for a city daily, listened
doubtfully to Tad's lurid account of
the unflinching manner in which
Frank had faced the dog and battled
with it. That, Pete thought, would
make a fine newspaper story, but of
course it was too good to be true.
So he went to question Inza Bur
rage, in her home, and was amazed
when her version of the affair sus
tained Tad in every particular but
one. Her ankle had been sprained,
not broken.
Now enthusiastic and eager, the
reporter got hold of Tony Accero
without wasting time. "John
Snodd's place, Tony," cried Pete,
diving into the car, "and step on the
gas."
Frank was writing a letter to his
uncle when Mulloy crashed into the
room. The face of the Irish boy was
split by a grin.
"Be after dropping that and come
down to see a man, my lad," said
Barney.
"What man?" Frank wanted to
know. "What's he want to see me
for?"
"It's a reporter for a newspaper,
and he's going to make ye famous,
Frankie."
That made Merry drop the pen
and stand up. "A reporter?" he ex
claimed. "Good Lord!"
This was something he hadn't ex
pected, something he wasn't pre
pared for, something that made him
shy like a skittish pony.
"Yesterday you arrived in Far
dale," said Barney, who seemed to
be enjoying Frank's consternation,
"and tomorrow your name will be
emblazoned in the public print. Fast
work."
"But I don't want to see a re
porter," said Merriwell. looking
around the room as if in search of a
place to hide. "And I'm not going
to see him either, and answer a lot
of silly questions."
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Decimal Clock Devised; Astronomers
Use It to Measure Time Conveniently
We divide the day into hours,
minutes and seconds. For ordinary
human purposes this is" convenient
enough; for scientific purposes,
particularly when long intervals of
time are involved, intolerable. As
tronomers prefer the Julian calen
dar, according to which days are
numbered from January I, 4713 B.
C., and fractions of a day are deci
mals, with the day beginning at
Greenwich mean noon. An event
which occurred on June 1, 1937, at
36 minutes and 42 seconds past 3
p. m. standard time would have oc
curred at 2428686.35882 J. D., notes
a writer in the New York Times.
Astronomers and navigators use
this Julian system. Hence they re
quire conversion tables. But time
and trouble are involved in trans
lating ordinary time into Julian
time. Hence the decimal clock
which Prof. Warren K. Green hu
devised for Amherst's astronomical
observatory. The astronomer reads
it as he would any clock and sees
where he stands according to the
Julian calendar.
Professor Green's clock looks
more like a big speedometer than a
clock. In a simple box six digits
appear. They represent 100,000
equal parts of the solar day. Every
time 0.864 of a second elapses by
ordinary time the last digit gives
place to a new on*.
This decimal clock is driven elec
trically by a synchronous motor so
geared that it turns a wheel a thou
sand times a Julian day. On the
circumference of this wheel are 100
equally spaced contact points. Each
makes an electric contact when it
passes a given point. Thus impulse
counters can be operated at any
point in the observatory.
The impulse counters are much
like mileage recorders. On their di
als numbers appear consecutively
every one-hundred-thousandth part
of the mean solar day. At any in
stant the dial indicates the day and
the decimal fraction. For example,
9 hours >0 minutes and 36 seconds
would appear a a 0.30833. When 0.304
seconds have elapsed by ordinary
time the dial would read 0.30636
IMPROVED
UNIFORM INTERNATIONAL
SUNDAY I
chool Lesson
By REV. HAROLD L. LUNDQULST.
Dean of the Moody Bible Institute
of Chicago.
t Western Wtwpaptr Union.
Lesson for December 26
CHRISTIAN CONSECRATION
LESSON TEXT? PhUlppl?n? 1:11-*.
GOLDEN TEXT ? For to m* to Uv? U
Christ, end to die Is gain? Phillpplans 1:21.
PRIMARY TOPIC? Our Best Friend.
JUNIOR TOPIC ? Answering Jesus.
INTERMEDIATE AND SENIOR TOPIC?
Choosing a Life Purpose.
YOUNG PEOPLE AND ADULT TOPIC?
Whnt Christian Surrender Means.
Consecration is one of the words
expressing Christian truth which
has been so much used and so often
misused that it has lost its savor.
The writer remembers many a
"consecration service" which meant
nothing to those present except the
fulfilling of a certain formula or
program. The purpose of the meet
ing was excellent, but results were
lacking because it had become a
mere formality.
Paul the apostle knew nothing of
any theory of consecration. He knew
and lived and proclaimed such an
abandonment of self to Christ and
his cause as really required no
statement in words ? it was his life.
We close today a three-month se
ries of studies in the Christian life.
We began at the right point by con
sidering "Christian Sonship," for no
one can live until he is born and
no one can live a Christian life un
til he is born again. We have con
sidered together God's grace in
keeping, renewing, guiding, blessing,
and communing with his own. All
these precious truths call us to de
vote ourselves to Christ in glad and
full consecration.
Men give themselves thus to the
building of a fortune, to the prop
agation of a political or social the
ory, to the pursuit of an occupation
or profession. Why should not the
Christian give himself in like meas
ure for Christ and his holy cause?
Paul, in the verses of our lesson,
shows that spirit and boldly de
clares that he follows Christ re
gardless of trying circumstance ? he
does so now, "in the body," not
later in glory. And it matters not
whether it be by life or death?
"Christ shall be magnified."
I. "What Then?" (v. 18).
Paul was imprisoned for the gos
pel's sake. Did that stop him? no;
he made the very guards who were
assigned to watch him in his house
into missionaries of the cross. He
won each one as he took his desig
nated period of service and sent
him out as a testimony to "the
whole praetorian guard and to all
the rest" (v. 13 R. V.).
Then, some of his Christian asso
ciates taking advantage of the fact
that he was imprisoned, went out
to preach just to show that they
were as good as he. They made
their very preaching an expression
of their envy of his popularity and
hoped to heap more sorrow upon
him. Did he get angry and bitterly
fight back? No; he thanked God
that Christ was preached. We need
more of that spirit in our day.
n. "In My Body."
One of the glaring fallacies of hu
man thinking is the idea that at
some favorable time in the future
we shall be able to enjoy life, do
mighty deeds or serve the Lord.
, For example parents fail to enjoy
, their children because they are al
ways looking forward to the next
stage of their development. The
time to enjoy and help our children
is now. The time to serve the Lord
Jesus is now. The day will come
when we shall be glorified with
him, but it will then be too late to
! speak to our neighbors about Christ.
m. To Live b Chris! udtaDw
| b Gai?" (v. 11).
Humanly speaiing wnen a matter
; is one of "life or death" it is a
question whether death may not in
tervene. The hope is that this may
not be the case and every effort is
made to prevent it. How different
with PauL He rightly points out
that to a Christian deajh means
entering into perfect fellowship with
Christ and unlimited service tor
him. Every human limitation will
then be put aside ? knowledge, serv
ice, communion, will all be perfect
and complete.
He would not, however, turn away
from his present privilege and duty.
Since it is God's will that he should
abide in the Oesh he will do it in
such a way as to make it literally
true that to him "to live is Christ."
Every life has a purpose and that
ruling passion which controls and
directs a life is what should be
written into the sentence, "To me
to live is . . " What is it ? money,
position, pleasure, sin? Or is it
Christ? If he is your life, then
you enter into the New Year with
the assurance that it will be full and
i satisfying, and gloriously useful.
Spitefel Words
A spiteful word cuts both ways. A
slander hurts the man or woman
who spreads it in a more deadly,
though unseen, waj than it hurts its
intended victim. Victor Hugo no
bly says. "Every sword has two
?dges. and the man who wounds
with one, wounds himself with the
other."
Only One Real Failure
There is only one real failure pot
sible; and that is, not to be true to
the best on* knows.? Canon Farrar.
HOPq SL
Ruth Wyeth Spears <^3^
A Dressing Table Skirt With Corded Sfcirriacs
""THIS dressing table has a
curved front and hinged arms
on which to mount the skirt so
that it can be opened to permit
access to the drawer. To mount
the skirt it must first be sewed to
a band of covered buckram. Cut
the buckram in a strip 24 inches
wide. Cater it with a straight
piece of material as shown here
at B.
Make the heading at the top of
the skirt just the depth of the
thickness of the table edge so that
it will cover the edge of the table
"Quotations"
A
Men arc not free to Wee their
fellow men when the* are consumed
by love mi ga?.-Dr. Elmer Ob
worth Bromm.
Men wldeo, or rather never far a
length of time and deliberately,
rebel against anything that doe* not
de*ne rebelling against. ? CmriyU.
Therr is is greater Might than
to be emsfiMs of aareritv af self
Light burdens, tsng borne, grow
heavy. ? Herbert.
Happiness cannot be foqnd m
seeking iL?Dr. Rtulkp* Endacott
Osgood.
when the arms are closed. Use V*
inch cable cord (or the shirring.
This is sewed to a safety pin and
run through tucks stitched is the
material as shown here at C.
The top of the ruffle m also
shirred with cords. When the stor
rings are all finished, sew the top
of the skirt to the cmeied bock
ram strip as shown at D and then
thumb tack it in place as at A.
Every Homemaker should have
a copy of Mrs Spears' new book,
SEWING. Forty-eight pages
step-by-step directions for making
slipcovers and dressing tables;
restoring and upholstering chairs,
couches; making curtains far ev
ery type of room and purpose.
Making Lampshades, rugs, otto
mans and other useful articles far
the home. Readers wishing a copy
should send name and address,
enclosing 25 cents, to Mrs. Speazs.
210 South Desplaines St, Cfcica^
fflmnis.
Love of Animals
Tn.TtiTI into children the tare of
animals and never aQow them to
tease an animal in any wij. Sot
only is it bad far their character
building, but even the best tem
pered animals can be goaded into
resenting pain by the only protec
tion they know, biting or scratch
ing.
PEACE
s cough due ao a cold
& a
This is the vitamin that raises the resistance of die mucous
i of the ao?e and thtottao cold and cangfciu&ajuufc
MEET BIG BEN
NEW TWO-FISTED VALUE IN
SMOKING TOBACCO ^
2 ounces of choice hurley . . . and *
valuable coupon m retry tin
rpuoMT
1 timet \
You fet two fun ounce* of mit
and mild bur leys from the Blue
Grata country ? crimp- cut to
bura alow and cool? kept fresh
by aa airtight CriMut mL
And? in every tin there "a a Bi|
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4s=