Tip Top Weekly No. 118: Frank Merriwell, Engine Wiper — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

TIP TOP WEEKLY, 5 Old Slugs was a bulldog to fight, and, for that reason, the watchers were conf- dent that he would be the victor in the end. For all that the stranger rained blow after blow upon the wiper’s face and body, Slugs continued the fight as if he had not been hit. His face was cut by the hard knuckles of the visitor, and blood was running, but that made no difference. “TY should think there was a flea pester- in’ me if I didn’t know,’ said the man, with a sneer. ‘*How is this for a flea bite ?”? The laughing stranger struck Slugs a terrible blow on the chin, hurling him backward into the arms of one of the spectators. For a second the ruffian was dazed. He lay limply in the arms of the man, his eyes” rolling, while he feebly lifted one hand-to his chin. Then, with astonishing swiftness, he ‘ recovered, uttering a howl of fury as he leaped out to confront the stranger once more. Now the wiper made several attempts to close with the visitor, but each time ‘he was avoided or beaten back with severe punishment. It was plain that the youth did not intend to let Slugs get hold of him if he could help it. ‘Tf Slugs ever getsa hand on him, he'll tear him limb from limb,’’ said one of the watching wipers. ‘«Sure,”’ nodded the other. ‘‘And he’ll get him before long. All that thumping don’t bother Mart.” ‘That one on the chin shook him up for a minute.”’ ‘¢Natice how quick he recovered ?”” “Ves; but the boy didn’t foller up his advantage.’”’ ‘He couldn’t ’thout hittin? Mart when he was in Dave’s arms.”’ This ain’t no prize fight under rules. READ THE GREAT PREMIUM talidiaa ON LAST PAGE. He’d oughter finished it up when he had achance. He won’t get another.’’ The spectators were greatly excited. They applauded the stranger as much as they dared, but were universal in their belief that he must get the worst of it in the end. But still the youth smiled and danced about the man, who was beginning to rush Jess and figlt more slowly. The roundhouse men began to realize that Slug’s efforts were telling on him, while the stranger seemed just as fresh as at the beginning. “Oh, why don’t ye keep still a min- ute?’’ grated the battered wiper, in dis- gust. | ‘“All right,’? was the cool answer. will.” Then, to the amazement of all, the youth stood quite still, carelessly drop- ping his hands at his sides. om | Slugs rushed, a cry of satisfaction” breaking from his lips as he made a clutch to gather the other into his grasp, but his arms closed on empty air, and he felt something catch him about the knees, and he seemed to spin over and over, to strike the ground with an awful thud. The crafty stranger had ducked close to the ground, caught him low, about the legs, and thrown him into the air. It was an amazing feat, and the wit- nesses could hardly believe the evidence of their eyes. Slugs lay still on the ground, breath- ing heavily and staring straight up toward the dirty, smoky roof. ” There were some moments of silence. “*T believe he’s finished!’ Somebody uttered the words, and they were heard by the fallen man. ‘“Who says so?’’ he hissed, sitting up. ‘They lie—they lie!’ To his feet he sprang, although he staggered in a manner that told he was COHIGDoOo SS (C(O)