Tip Top Weekly No. 61: Frank Merriwell in the Mines — page 3: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

rip Top | . Entered as Second Class Matter at the N. ¥. Post O /EEKLY. fe & ge i “ pow St, N x pen. in the Year 1897, in the Office of the Librarian June 12, 1807. Vol, 1. No. 6¢. 3 CENT Price Five Cents. Contents of This Number. TALKS WITH TIP TOP READERS THE EMERALD RING (Short Story) - 2 - THROWING THE BOOMERANG - : SPORTS AND PASTIMES (Putting oe Shot) CLOCK MADE OF BICYCLES - FRANK MERRIWELL IN THE MINES; or, The Blind Singer of Silver Blatt : FRANK MERRIWELL IN THE MINES; The Blind Singer of Silver BIGff. By the Author of ‘‘FRANK PROLOGUE. It was a wild winter night in the mountains. Amid the dreary peaks the wind was howling like ten thousand fam- ished wolves: In the black depths of the! great canyous and ravines it sometimes; roared with a sound of distant thunder, while anon. 1t shrieked and wailed and sobbed with such heart-rending agony and pathos that it seemed all the lost souls of Purgatory had been set free in those ice-bound mountains. ‘In its teeth the Storm Demon curried a mass of snow, which it spat forth in frightful fury. The snow was fine, like sand, and like sand it was hard, so that whenever it struck human flesh it stabbed and stung like a million tiny daggers. This snow. drove through the scraggy pines on the mountain sides, where the wind rose and fell in a wailing roar, it piled into the canyons, smothering great bowlders, and it heaped itself about the t | K MERRIWELL.” little cabin that stood against the face of the bluff, | Within the little cabin an old, white- bearded man hovered over a roaring fire, ‘which he replenished now and then from a pile of wood that was heaped against the wall. Under the door, over the door, around the rattling window, and through chinks in the wall snow was driven inte the cabin, sometimes being carried half way across the room. For all of the roaring fire, the old man found no small difficulty to keep warm. His thin form was bent with age, his hands had been drawn out of shape by. rheumatism, and his face bore traces of years of struggles, toils, hardships, dis- appointments and bitter sorrows. Night had come down suddenly and brought with it the storm, which the old man had expected, and for which he shad prepared the pile of wood. * “Stiga terrible night and a terrible. storin,’? muttered the old man, as he put more wood on the fire. ‘“‘She will uot: come to-night.’? — EOMICLOOO© (Cc SS (C(O)