Title: The Galleon's Gold - or, Frank Reade, Jr.'s Deep Sea Search.
Author: Senarens, Luis
Language: English
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[Illustration: FRANK READE]

       _Issued Weekly—By Subscription $2.50 per year. Application
           made for Second-Class Entry at N. Y. Post Office._

       No. 74.         NEW YORK, MARCH 25, 1904.   Price 5 Cents.

[Illustration: THE GALLEON’S GOLD; OR, FRANK READE, JR.’S DEEP SEA
SEARCH. _By “NONAME”_]

                  The young inventor struck the fellow
                   over the helmet with the flat side
                  of his spade. The shock laid him out
                  senseless, but another followed him.
                    This one struck Clifford to his
                     knees. But Barney went to the
                                rescue.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

                              FRANK READE

                            WEEKLY MAGAZINE.

     CONTAINING STORIES OF ADVENTURES ON LAND, SEA AND IN THE AIR.

  _Issued Weekly—By Subscription $2.50 per year. Application made for
    Second Class entry at the New York., N.Y., Post Office. Entered
  according to Act of Congress in the year 1904, in the office of the
   Librarian of Congress, Washington, D.C., by Frank Tousey, 24 Union
                           Square, New York._

       =No. 74.=          NEW YORK, MARCH 25,       =Price 5 Cents.=
                                 1904.



                          THE GALLEON’S GOLD;
                  Frank Reade, Jr.’s Deep Sea Search.


                              By “NONAME.”



                                CONTENTS


               CHAPTER    I. THE SUNKEN TREASURE.
               CHAPTER   II. THE YOUNG INVENTOR.
               CHAPTER  III. THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA.
               CHAPTER   IV. A CATASTROPHE.
               CHAPTER    V. ON THE REEF.
               CHAPTER   VI. PARKER’S DEEP GAME.
               CHAPTER  VII. A PARLEY.
               CHAPTER VIII. A DIVERS’ BATTLE.
               CHAPTER   IX. THE GALLEON’S GOLD.
               CHAPTER    X. WHAT BECAME OF THE DOLPHIN.
               CHAPTER   XI. FRANK’S ADVENTURES.
               CHAPTER  XII. WHICH ENDS THE TALE.



                               CHAPTER I.
                          THE SUNKEN TREASURE.


The clipper ship Aurelian, one of the few survivors of the old West
India trade, had sighted Sandy Hook, and was making New York harbor
after a remarkable voyage from Belize.

Captain Hartley, her master, was eagerly watching the approaches to the
harbor with his deck glass.

By his side stood a man of distinguished appearance.

He was tall, sinewy, and would have been considered handsome were it not
for the yellow hue of skin which all travelers in tropical climes are
bound to acquire.

Cecil Clifford had traveled the world over. His hobby was archæology,
and as he was a man of large means and a member of many historical and
scientific societies, he was able to pursue his researches to any
extent.

He was the only passenger aboard the Aurelian, and was returning to New
York from Honduras with a thrilling purpose in view.

What this purpose was only he and Captain Hartley knew.

“I only hope that Mr. Parker received our cable from Havana, and will be
at the wharf to meet us,” remarked Captain Hartley.

“So do I,” agreed Clifford. “Is it not possible that he will come down
to meet us in a tug?”

The captain shook his head with a wry face.

“Humph!” he said; “you do not know Gilbert Parker. He is the most
penurious man in America. Do you think he would put out the money to
employ a tug? Depend upon it—never!”

“Yet our cablegram may excite his cupidity. Did you not specify that it
was a matter of moment, involving perhaps millions?”

“I did, but I do not fancy he would heed that. He is a very close, snug
man of business, this Gilbert Parker. The Aurelian is all the property
he owns in the world and every cent of profit she turns him in from her
voyages he with miserly proclivity stores away.”

Cecil Clifford’s face wore a determined expression.

“Very well,” he said, resolutely. “If Mr. Parker does not see fit to
lend the Aurelian for my purpose, I will buy, charter or build a vessel
of my own!”

Captain Hartley turned eagerly about.

“If you do that,” he said with some excitement, “why may I not enter
your service?”

“And leave Parker?”

The captain snapped his fingers.

“The old skinflint has no love for me and vice versa,” he said. “I have
sailed the Aurelian for him eight years and made a mint of money for
him. Yet he would not yield me a bit of sympathy or help were I in
trouble or distress. You cannot blame me!”

“Under such circumstances, no,” replied Clifford. “And Hartley, it shall
be so. You stand by me and I will by you.”

“It is agreed.”

They gripped hands.

“You have faith in our enterprise?”

“I have.”

At this moment the first mate called down from the ship’s bridge:

“There is a small tug over yonder making signals to us, skipper!”

Hartley started forward.

“A tug!” he cried. “Answer them at once! Can it be possible that it is
Parker coming to meet us?”

“By Jove, I hope that is true!” cried Clifford heartily.

“If so,” said the captain, “he has very radically departed from all
previous custom.”

The tug which had signaled the Aurelian now drew momentarily nearer.

Soon she was within hailing distance, and among her company the angular
form of the owner of the Aurelian was seen.

The ship lay to and the tug ran alongside. The owner came up the gangway
somewhat hastily.

“Ah, Hartley!” he said, in a brusque sort of way, “you have brought my
ship home safely once more!”

“I think I may claim that, Mr. Parker,” replied the captain.

“Has the voyage been successful?”

“The best yet made!”

“Ah! that is good,” declared Parker, rubbing his dry little hands while
his eyes glittered like beads. “You are very shrewd, Hartley, and I will
admit, faithful. I have gone to some expense to come out here and meet
you. That I will charge to the deficit account. I am anxious to know the
meaning of your cablegram!”

“You shall know it at once!” replied the captain. “Come into the cabin.
But first, allow me, Mr. Parker, my friend, Cecil Clifford.”

Parker bowed in a perfunctory way, and Clifford said

“Very much pleased!”

Then a few moments later they were seated in the cabin at a big table
spread with charts.

Hartley opened the conversation.

“I will first tell you a bit of a story, Mr. Parker,” he said; “it will
help to explain matters.”

“Proceed!” said Parker, stiffly.

“As I must first inform you,” continued the captain, “Mr. Clifford here
is an antiquarian and traveler. He was some few weeks ago engaged in
exploring the interior of Honduras. In the mountains he found the ruined
city of an ancient race. In exploring the ruins he found a secret
chamber which was completely walled up, save for one small opening large
enough to put a hand through.

“In this secret chamber there was a skeleton enclosed in fragments of
armor, such as was worn by the soldiers of Spain in the sixteenth
century.

“Here was a mystery, and he at once set himself at work to solve it. His
first assumption was that it was the remains of one of the early Spanish
invaders, who had been made a prisoner by the natives and shut up here
to starve to death.

“And upon the walls of the death cell he found the following scratched
in barely legible characters into the stone:

    “I, Don Cristobal Mendoza, am thrown into this dungeon to starve
    by the heathen, curses upon them! Curses upon the fortune which
    placed me in their power.

    “Here I am doomed to die, while my ship, the Donna Veneta, lies
    fathoms deep in the ocean, off this cursed coast, with all my
    great fortune aboard.

    “Woe is the day I left sunny Spain with my princely holdings, to
    set up a kingdom in this land of deception and disappointment.
    Buried at the bottom of the sea is my noble ship and millions of
    pesos, while I am to die in this fearful hole. Jesus pity! Save my
    soul!”

“Then followed a diagram which was rudely drawn to show the spot where
the Donna Veneta went down. The whole coast map of Honduras was shown,
and so comprehensive was it that a skipper familiar with the waters
should be able to sail directly to it.

“No latitude or longitude was given, only approximate distances, but
this was deemed enough.”

The diagram was briefly discussed. All the while Parker had listened
with a cat-like gleam in his eyes.

“Well, Mr. Parker,” said Hartley, finally, “what do you think of it? Is
not that treasure worth recovering?”

“Recovering!” exclaimed the miser, squeakily; “how can it be recovered?
How can you recover anything from such a depth in the sea as that?”

“Pshaw! There are hundreds of divers who will go down to the wreck.”

“If they can find it.”

“You are incredulous!”

“What do you want of me? Is this your reason for calling me out here at
such trouble and expense?” cried the miser, angrily. “What a bit of
moonshine! You are a fool, Hartley. I gave you credit for more sense.
What folly to think that you could recover such a treasure. Why, it is
absurd—very absurd, sir!”

For a moment Hartley’s face was black. Hot words were on his tongue, but
he only said, in a steely way:

“Then you have no faith in this project?”

“None whatever!”

“You will not lend the Aurelian to this scheme on promise of an equal
division?”

“Never!”

The miser spoke decidedly; Hartley arose quickly to his feet. He was
very resolute and very angry.

“Then, Mr. Parker,” he said, “you may look for a new captain. I am out
of your employ this moment.”

Parker gave a violent start.

“What!” he cried, “have I not always paid you well?”

“Never without reluctance.”

“Then you mean to leave me?”

“I do.”

“What will you do? You have no ship nor enough of money to carry out
your hare-brained enterprise.”

“But my friend, Mr. Clifford, has,” replied Hartley, coolly.

The miser turned and regarded Clifford almost insolently.

“Yes,” said the traveler, with assumed nonchalance. “You have chosen to
throw away your golden opportunity, Mr. Parker. We are not sorry,
however, to exclude you from our enterprise. It is true that I have
money enough to build, buy or charter any kind of a vessel we may desire
to accomplish our purpose.”

The miser looked keenly at Clifford and then stammered:

“But—I—I will reconsider——”

“No, you won’t,” said Clifford emphatically. “We are alone in this
enterprise, sir. You are excluded!”

The miser said no more. But he chuckled much under his breath. The
Aurelian a few hours later was at her wharf.

Then Captain Hartley and the distinguished traveler took their leave of
the vessel. The captain took the portfolio in which he had kept the copy
of Don Cristobal’s story, among other effects.

Both proceeded at once to a hotel. Neither were disconcerted by the
decision of Parker.

“The Aurelian is a good vessel,” said Hartley, “but there are others,
Clifford. I am not sorry to leave the old curmudgeon out of it.”

“Nor I,” agreed Clifford; “but now, my dear friend, let us at once get
down to business.”



                              CHAPTER II.
                          THE YOUNG INVENTOR.


Clifford’s plan was to buy diving suits, and at once look up men used to
descending into the greatest depths of the sea.

But these were not easily found. Neither were they at once successful in
finding the right sort of a sailing craft for their purpose.

While thus somewhat perplexed a curious incident occurred which
completely changed their plans.

Clifford chanced to pick up a newspaper and read a large heading:

                         “A WONDERFUL INVENTION!

    “Frank Reade, Jr., the young inventor, once more to the fore. This
    time it is a famous submarine boat which is a complete success,
    and with which the wonderful young man intends to sail around the
    world under water. The problem of deep-sea navigation solved. The
    naval and marine world in general much interested.”

More followed of a descriptive nature, and Clifford read every line.
Then he drew a deep breath.

He arose and put on his hat.

“Hartley,” he said, “come with me.”

The manner of the great traveler impressed the captain. He looked up in
surprise and asked:

“Where?”

“I am going to Readestown.”

“To Readestown?”

“Yes.”

“What for?”

“To see Frank Reade, Jr.”

“What——”

“Ask no questions until we get there. Then you will understand all. Come
along!”

Hartley knew there was no use in trying to argue the point. It was
always best to give Clifford his own way. So he followed him.

Readestown was a neat little town on a river leading down to the sea. It
was chiefly noted for the family of great inventors, the Reades, who had
founded the place.

Frank Reade, Jr., himself, sat in his private office at the machine
works looking over some plans.

He was a tall, handsome youth, with a certain bearing which
distinguished him wherever he went.

Suddenly the door opened and a woolly head appeared in the space between
the door and the frame.

A negro, black as a coal and with gleaming ivories, stood there.

“Well, Pomp,” said Frank, looking up, “what is it?”

“Suah, sah, two gentlemen as wants fo’ to see yo’, sah. Dey won’t take
no, sah!”

Frank took the cards handed him and glanced at the names.

               “JOSEPH HARTLEY—CECIL CLIFFORD.
                                         “New York City.”

“I don’t know them,” he said. “What is their business?”

“Berry important, sah, so dey say. Kain’t tell no mo’.”

“Show them in.”

“A’right, sah.”

Pomp disappeared, but he had no sooner vanished than a shock of red hair
and a genial Irish mug appeared in the spot he had left.

“Shure, Misther Frank, ivery bit av the sthores is aboard the boat,
sor.”

“Good for you, Barney O’Shea!” replied the young inventor. “Everything
is then in readiness for the start.”

“Yis, sor.”

“Very well, that will do.”

The red hair and grinning mug then vanished.

Barney and Pomp were Frank Reade, Jr.’s faithful body servants. They had
been long in his employ.

Steps were heard outside a few moments later, and two men entered.

Captain Hartley and Cecil Clifford shook hands with Frank Reade, Jr. In
a very few moments they were the warmest of friends, so instinctive was
the sympathetic tie between kindred souls.

“We understand you have perfected a submarine boat, Mr. Reade,” said
Clifford.

“That is true,” replied Frank.

“That is a wonderful triumph. We congratulate you.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you intend starting for a deep-sea cruise very soon?”

“In a very few days.”

“Have you an object in view beyond simple exploration?”

“Nothing special.”

Clifford and the captain exchanged glances. Then the former said:

“Will you kindly listen to a little story we have to tell, Mr. Reade?”

“With pleasure,” replied Frank.

Then Clifford detailed the story of the Donna Veneta and her treasure.

As he dwelt upon the story of the sunken galleon’s gold, Frank grew
interested.

For some moments after Clifford finished his story he was thoughtful.

Then he said:

“So Gilbert Parker would not lend his ship Aurelian to such an
enterprise?”

“No,” said Clifford.

“Which shows his folly. Gentlemen, what if I propose to place the
submarine boat Dolphin at your disposal?”

Clifford and Hartley sprang forward, and each grasped a hand of the
young inventor.

“Hurrah! You have saved the day!” cried Clifford. “We knew that you
would look with favor on our plans!”

“Only think of having a submarine boat at our disposal!” cried Hartley.
“Success is assured!”

“Well, gentlemen, I am decided,” said Frank. “We will all go aboard the
Dolphin in search of the galleon’s gold. The start shall be made at
once, and old Parker will find out what a colossal old ass he is.”

Hartley and Clifford cheered vociferously. But Frank pulled chairs up to
the table, and said:

“Where is your plan or diagram?”

Hartley pulled out the portfolio and opened it; he spread some papers on
the table.

They were quickly examined, and then all three men looked at each other
blankly.

“Jericho!” gasped Hartley. “Where are the diagrams, Cecil?”

“They ought to be here!”

“But they are not!”

Clifford and Hartley were aghast.

“What has become of them?” he gasped, weakly. “My soul, Hartley, you
don’t believe that they have been stolen?”

“Stolen!” exclaimed the captain in a hollow voice. “That is their fate.
Cecil, we are ruined men!”

Frank glanced from one to the other.

“Who could have stolen them?” he asked.

“We do not know.”

“To whom else have you shown them?”

“To no one—except——”

Clifford and Hartley stared at each other. Then both gasped in the same
breath:

“Gilbert Parker!”

“The old hound!” rejoined Hartley, hotly. “Would he dare do such a
villainous thing?”

“I believe him capable of anything,” said Cecil. “I know he is an old
villain!”

Hartley took several turns up and down the room.

“We can prove nothing,” he said. “Of course he will deny it. Again,
perhaps we have lost them. What shall we do? Can you not repeat that
diagram from memory, Cecil?”

In answer, the traveler sat down, and after some time drew crude lines
upon paper.

“This is as near as I can remember it,” he said, “but I lose much
valuable detail.”

“What could have prompted us to attempt to take Parker into the scheme
at all?” cried Hartley, with self anger. “I might have known that he
would try to figure it all into his own coffers. What shall we do?”

“There is only one thing,” said Frank, arising.

“And that?”

“We will accept this diagram and scour every foot of the Honduras Gulf.
We shall have an advantage in the submarine boat.”

“Right!” cried Clifford, in a transport of joy. “There is a solution of
all! We will beat Mr. Parker at his own game! Mr. Reade, we owe all to
you.”

“That is nothing,” said Frank. “I am with you body and soul! But enough!
Would you not like to take a look at the Dolphin?”

“Delighted!” both cried.

“Come on, then!”

Frank led the way through high gates into an inner yard. In the center
of this was a deep basin or tank of water.

It was connected with the river several hundred yards below by means of
a canal and a lock.

In the center of the tank floated the submarine boat.

It was a wonderful specimen of seacraft. The two new-comers gazed at it
spellbound.

In shape the Dolphin was long and rakish and her lines indicated speed.
Her hull was of plates of steel.

Her main deck was roofed over entirely, giving her an odd appearance as
she lay there in the water. In this roof was an enormous plate-glass
skylight and any number of dead-eyes.

These were wholly for purposes of observation from the interior of the
boat. There was a large observation window and conning tower upon each
side of the vessel about midships.

A pilot-house with a conical dome and heavy glass windows was forward.
There was an outer deck or platform to the width of six feet, which
extended all around the vessel and was protected by a guard rail.

The Dolphin had three steel masts and a long bowsprit with rigging of
steel ropes. These were more for the steadying of the craft than
practical use.

She had twin screws, which were driven by powerful electric engines on a
peculiar storage plan, which was wholly the invention of Frank Reade,
Jr.

So light and clean cut was the Dolphin that she could make a famous rate
of speed even under water.

The interior of the boat was most palatially furnished. Every comfort
and convenience known to science was there.

From the pilot-house to the engine-room, salons, staterooms, magazine
and all were complete.

There was also the huge pneumatic reservoir or tank for the sinking or
rising of the boat. This was done by simply admitting or expelling
water.

Also the chemical generator, with its tubes extending to every part of
the boat for the furnishing of pure air while under water. Altogether
the submarine boat was a marvel.



                              CHAPTER III.
                         THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA.


Barney and Pomp had faithfully made every preparation for the submarine
cruise.

Stores sufficient to last two years were aboard the boat. She was in
apple-pie order, her dynamos being ready to start at an instant’s
notice.

She rocked lightly in the tank, and as Hartley and Clifford went aboard
of her they were enthused.

“By the great whale!” cried the captain, “she’s the neatest sea craft I
have ever seen.”

“A floating palace!” declared Clifford. “Mr. Reade, this is no ordinary
invention.”

“Well,” admitted Frank, “she quite excels anything I have yet
manufactured, I admit. Yet I think I can excel her merits.”

Hartley looked incredulous.

“It does not seem possible,” he said. “And yet I cannot dispute you, Mr.
Reade. I think anything is quite possible for you.”

Frank bowed modestly at this profuse compliment. Then they all repaired
to the office again.

A day was agreed upon for the start, and all hands were to be ready at
that time.

It was believed that the Donna Veneta could be found even without the
important diagram left by Don Cristobal.

As she was a submarine boat, this seemed plausible enough.

“At any rate,” declared Clifford, “if we can do no better, we can go
into the interior of Honduras and look up the record in the ruin again.”

“But if Parker abstracted the diagram, what was his purpose?” asked
Frank.

The trio exchanged glances.

“Perhaps he thinks of getting in ahead of us with the Aurelian,”
ventured Hartley: “it is just like the old hypocrite.”

“Indeed, that is so,” agreed Clifford.

But Frank Reade, Jr., frowned.

“It will bother him some to locate the Donna Veneta before we do,” he
said. “It is possible that he can do it, but I don’t believe it.”

So the matter was dropped.

The spirits of the fortune hunters were high.

They could not restrain their exuberance. That night Hartley and
Clifford went back to New York to complete their preparations.

In three days the Dolphin was to begin its submarine voyage for the
Gulf. On the afternoon of the second day Hartley picked up a daily
paper, and as is always a sea captain’s wont, glanced over the shipping
news.

He gave a sudden wild start.

“Great whales!” he gasped; “just look at this.”

He placed his finger on an item. Clifford read it:

    “S’ld: Thursday, June 5th, the ship Aurelian, Captain Jed Moore,
    for the West Indies and Central American ports.”

The two men looked stupefied. Then Hartley raised his finger
significantly.

“Just as true as you live, Cecil Clifford, that old scoundrel is going
to try and recover the Donna Veneta’s treasure.”

“But he has no right to it!”

“What does he care?”

“It would be the act of a thief.”

“That is just what he is.”

Hartley was thoughtful for some while. He knew that the Aurelian would
have a day’s start of the Dolphin. But could she beat her to Honduras?

If Parker really had the diagram he certainly had an advantage, for he
could at once locate the treasure.

“Well, there is one thing about it,” said Cecil resolutely, “if we run
against him in those waters there will be likely to be trouble.”

“You are right.”

“I don’t believe Frank Reade, Jr., will take any of their impudence.”

“Nor I.”

“Perhaps we had better let him know about this at once. Shall we wire
him?”

“Better see him in person. Can we not be all ready to start for
Readestown to-day?”

“I see no reason against it.”

“By all means let us go.”

It did not require much time for the two excited men to get all in
readiness for an early start.

Frank Reade, Jr., was not a little surprised when he heard the report of
Parker’s conduct.

“There is no doubt but that he has gone to Honduras to recover the
treasure,” he said, “but we will beat him at that game.”

“Good!” cried Hartley and Clifford in chorus. “We knew what your
sentiments would be, Mr. Reade.”

“Well, that is just what they are,” said the young inventor resolutely.
“We will make trouble for Mr. Parker. He is entitled to no part of the
Veneta’s treasure nor shall he have it.”

The Dolphin was in apple-pie order and ready for the start. A few hours
later all were aboard.

We will not dwell upon the leave-taking of Readestown. A large crowd
wished the submarine navigators God-speed.

The Dolphin a few days later sailed the waters of the Gulf, and was
rapidly on her way to Honduras.

Thus far she had sailed most of the distance on the surface. Now,
however, Frank decided to proceed the rest of the way under the water.

So he pressed the valve which filled the reservoir, and the boat at once
began to sink.

Down she settled gracefully beneath the waves.

In spite of themselves the voyagers could not help but feel a curious
thrill as they went below the surface, and knew that they were going to
the bottom of the sea.

There was a brief instant of darkness.

Then Frank touched the electric lever and—presto! the interior of the
boat was ablaze with light.

And outside the radiance shed far and wide into the sea depths. Myriads
of fish came trooping down through the translucent mass.

They were of thousands of shapes, colors and varieties. Some of them
were so large as to threaten the safety of the boat.

But fortunately these large ones were great cowards, and kept at a safe
distance from the boat.

Frank turned on the searchlight and sent its rays shooting down into the
depths.

As yet the bottom could not be seen.

“Are we getting down to the center of the earth?” cried Hartley; “it
must be an immense depth here!”

“I see nothing of the bottom yet!” cried Clifford. “Can the little boat
stand the strain, Frank?”

The young inventor knit his brows.

“Why, I think so,” he said, but yet looked anxious, for the Dolphin was
creaking and groaning somewhat; “the bottom must be near. Ah, there, I
can see it!”

And a wonderful sight it was which burst upon the view of all at that
moment.

The bottom of the sea.

They were sure at that moment that they were the only human beings who
had ever beheld it at that depth.

It was like a view into another and strange world.

To adequately describe it would be quite impossible.

There were forests of marine plants, some of them gigantic in size,
cavernous recesses, the lurking place of strange sea monsters, and coral
reefs deeply submerged in sand.

The Dolphin sailed over this wonderful scene, while the voyagers took it
all in spellbound.

“If the Veneta is sunk in such a sea as this,” declared Clifford, “it
will be difficult enough to get at her on account of the marine growth.”

“You are right,” agreed Hartley. “What do you think of it, Frank?”

“Well,” said the young inventor, after some thought, “I hardly believe
that the sea which the Veneta is buried in is of the same sort as this.
While the Gulf of Honduras is undoubtedly rich in marine growth, yet I
believe that there are greater tracts of sandy plain and coral reef. Let
us hope to find the Veneta in such.”

“Amen!” cried Clifford. “We will accept no other belief anyway!”

The Dolphin kept on for miles sailing over the forest of marine growth.

Had the voyagers felt the inclination there would have been no open
space for a safe descent.

For to risk a descent among the tangled fibers and branches of the
marine plants would be worse than folly. Powerful as the Dolphin was,
she might not be able to extricate herself.

For hours the submarine boat kept on in this way.

Barney was at the helm, while Frank and Hartley and Clifford sat in the
cabin and discussed the subject of locating the Veneta.

Barney kept his hand on the Dolphin’s wheel and a sharp lookout out of
the window at the same time.

Pomp had been at work in the galley.

He had finished his cooking and for a moment stood looking out of his
window at the curious sights which seemed to pass in review before him.

Suddenly he heard Barney in the pilot-house above calling him.

“Shure, naygur, an’ phwere is the heart av yez? Can yez bear to see me
stharve, yez ill-mannered coon yez?”

“Huh!” grunted Pomp. “Why didn’t yo’ say yo’ was hungry?”

“Bejabers, yez have only to luk at me to see that.”

“Yo’ am right dar, I’sh; wha’ yo’ loike fo’ to eat?”

“Shure I’ll take it in liquid form if yez don’t moind.”

“Yo’ want some consomme, den?”

“Divil a bit! Yez know phat’s best to warrum the cockles av me heart.”

Pomp chuckled.

“I done fink I undahstan’ yo’,” he said. “I brung yo’ up some dreckly.”

Pomp reached down behind the flour bin and brought forth from the
darkness a black bottle.

The label on it read:

Good Bourbon Whisky.

Now everybody knows the Irishman’s weakness; the Englishman imbibes ale,
the German drinks beer, the Frenchman sips wine, the American brandy,
but the true bred Celt despises all of these, and turns to whisky.

Pomp poured a good dose of the pure article into a small flask; then he
did something else.



                              CHAPTER IV.
                             A CATASTROPHE.


The two were warm friends, but ever addicted to the playing of jokes
upon each other. Sometimes one had the better of it, and sometimes the
other.

Pomp saw what he believed an elegant opportunity to square some past
grievances with his friend.

“Golly, I done fix dat chile!” he chuckled. “He laike whisky, do he?
Massy Lordy, I gib him de Keeley Cure!”

With which, still chuckling, he reached up and took down a small bag of
ground red dust and seeds, and which was marked “Ground Red Peppers.”

“Golly!” chuckled the darky, “he done fink somefin’ got him fo’ suah!”

Into the flask he put a liberal quantity of the ground peppers. Then he
touched his tongue to the compound.

The touch fairly lifted him off his feet. A swallow would seem
sufficient to send a man up in smoke, so hot was it.

So delighted was the darky with the prospect that he yielded to
immediate laughter.

Barney heard it and cried:

“Phwat the divil ails yez, naygur? Phwat do yez foind so funny?”

Pomp sobered at once.

“I was jes’ larfin’ to mahse’f,” he replied hastily, fearful that he
would be suspected.

“Laughin’ at yesilf! Well, shure that’s nothin’ to be wondhered at. But
shure will yez hurry up wid the crather?”

“Yo’ hold yo’ patience jes’ a bit till I put dis bread in de oven!”
replied Pomp, “I’se comin’.”

Then he picked up the flask and sprang up the stairs. Barney took it
from his hand eagerly.

“Begorra, it’s a gintlemon yez are!” cried Barney, “yez know well enuff
phwat I need.”

With which the Celt threw the flask to his lips.

Pomp stood eagerly waiting for the explosion. Gurgle, gurgle went the
liquor down his throat.

The darky stared.

Could he believe his senses?

The Celt slowly and deliberately drained the flask. Then he laid it down
and said:

“Bejabers, that tastes loike some whisky I once got in Donnybrook!” he
said. “It’s fairly aloive!”

Pomp gave a gasp.

Then he picked up the flask and looked at Barney like one in a dream.
His eyes fairly rolled in their sockets.

Barney looked at him in surprise.

“Phwat the divil ails yez!” he cried. “Shure are yez sick?”

“N—no, sah!” replied the dazed coon, “but—did yo’ drink all dat whisky
roight down an’——”

“Phwat the divil did yez expict me to do? Did yez want a sip yersilf?”

“N—no, sah!” spluttered the coon, “but—but——”

He said no more, but made his way down the stairs slowly to the galley.
There he scratched his woolly pate and muttered:

“On mah wo’d I neber heerd ob sich a mouf an’ stummick as dat I’ishman
hab got. I done fink he make a good meal on window glass any time he
feel laike it.”

But Barney had tasted the most fiery of liquors too many times to mind a
little thing like this. He knew from the taste that the darky had
doctored the liquor, and he suspected what it was.

So he chuckled to himself.

“Begorra, the coon thought he had me solid that toime. But fer a fact he
got badly left, fer divil a bit do I moind a little foire in the
crather.”

But Barney laid it up against the darky just the same, and muttered:

“I’ll foix him fer it!”

While Pomp said:

“I done fink dat I’ishman am cast iron inside. I never fought he was
sich a tough man afore.”

But for all that, the whisky did affect the Celt.

It was powerful strong and made Barney feel a bit tipsy. His hand was
not so strong at the wheel.

As a result, an accident occurred. The boat was approaching a reef at
full speed, when Barney’s foot slipped and he fell.

Before he could regain his feet the wheel spun around, there was a
shock, and everybody was hurled to the cabin floor. The lights went out,
there was a booming of waters and all was darkness.

The boat stood still. Frank Reade, Jr., was the first to recover
himself.

He arose and groped his way into the pilot-house.

“Mither save us!” came a voice from the corner; “shure, it’s kilt I am
intoirely!”

“Barney!” cried Frank, “what has happened?”

“Begorra, Misther Frank, divil a bit kin I tell yez. I think, though,
that we have run ferninst a reef, sor!”

“Well, that’s pretty work!” cried Frank angrily. “What do you mean by
such stupidity?”

“Shure, sor, I hope yez will not blame me too much. Me fut slipped an’ I
fell.”

There was nothing to be done but make the best of it, though Frank gave
the Celt a good reprimand.

Then he made haste to examine the exact position of the submarine boat
and her chances.

It was an affair more than ordinarily serious. The reflection that they
might be immovably fixed on the reef gave all the voyagers a chill.

The electric lights were quickly turned on, and the engines carefully
inspected.

These fortunately were fond to be uninjured.

Frank reversed them, with a view to drawing the boat off the ledge if
possible.

But this was useless. The boat was stuck there, and would not move. It
was a serious case.

What was to be done?

They were many fathoms deep in the sea. Unless the boat could be freed
from her position on the ledge, their fate would be too dreadful for
contemplation.

Doomed to die of starvation at the bottom of the sea. It was a dreadful
thought.

Clifford was very pale as he approached Frank and said:

“What are the chances, Mr. Reade?”

Frank shook his head slowly.

“Rather scant!” he said. “I can give no definite answer until after I
have taken a look at her from the outside.”

“From the outside?”

“Yes.”

Clifford looked surprised.

“How can you do that?” he asked.

“Easy enough,” replied Frank. “I have a patent diving suit which I can
wear.”

“Well, I am interested,” declared Clifford. “How will you dare to
venture out in these waters in a diving suit? I should think the
pressure would be too great.”

“Not with my new diving suit,” replied Frank. “I have perfected it so
that, as no life line is used, a pressure of almost any depth can be
resisted.”

“Without a life line? How do you breathe?”

“By means of a chemical generator which is portable and is carried on
the back. It furnishes the best of air and is similar to the generator
which furnishes our boat with oxygen.”

“Wonderful!” exclaimed Clifford. “You are truly a man of inventions, Mr.
Reade.”

Frank laughed.

“That is the most simple of all my inventions,” he said.

“You don’t happen to have two of those wonderful diving suits, do you?”

“I have half a dozen.”

“Good! Would you mind my putting on one of them and accompanying you?”

“Certainly you may.”

Frank called to Barney, who brought out the diving suits. Two of them
were selected.

Frank and Clifford were soon encased in the suits, and ready to leave
the cabin.

Each carried a small ax at the girdle. Otherwise they were unarmed.

Of course there was something to fear from the monsters of the deep, but
neither shrank from the risk. A moment later they entered the vestibule.

Then Frank closed the cabin door and pressed a valve. Instantly the
vestibule filled with water.

It was an easy matter to open the outer door and walk out on the deck.

It required some moments for both to get accustomed to the unusual
pressure. But after awhile they were enabled to see and think clearly.

Then Frank began to descend from the deck to the bed of the sea. He
found solid footing in the sand which covered that part of the reef.

He made his way slowly along to the bow of the Dolphin.

A glance was enough.

The steel ram of the vessel was driven deep into the reef and seemed
immovable. The keel rested in a cleft of coral which bound it tightly on
all sides.

So intent was Frank upon examining the position of the Dolphin that he
gave no thought to anything else about him.

So it happened that Clifford, who had been engaged in looking for coral
specimens, came near getting into a bad scrape.

It happened in this way:

He had caught sight of a curious coral growth jutting out from the reef,
and was determined to make an effort to secure it.

He clambered up a steep place and placed his hand upon the coral. At the
same moment he noticed an orifice in the rock just to his right.

Even as he did so he fancied he saw the glitter of something bright
beyond. But he gave it no heed.

This was Clifford’s mistake.

For while reaching for the coral a long, sinewy arm darted out of the
orifice. In an instant it wound itself about the body of the
unsuspecting diver.

It wound about him in serpentine fold and he was torn from his perch and
drawn toward the orifice.

In one swift instant Clifford realized his peril and the character of
his foe.

He knew that the sinewy arm was really the tentacle of a fierce octopus
or sea-cat, and that its horrid jaws were waiting to mangle him.

And he seemed powerless to resist. For a moment he was dazed with utter
horror and indecision.

What should he do?

This was a problem.



                               CHAPTER V.
                              ON THE REEF.


In his horror, Clifford forgot himself and shouted wildly to Frank, but
the young inventor did not reply.

Of course he could not hear. Indeed, the only way conversation could be
carried on was by placing the helmets closely together and loudly
shouting.

So that the young inventor, intent on examining the Dolphin’s position,
thought of nothing else, until by chance he turned his head.

Then the sight which he beheld filled him with horror.

For a moment he could not act.

“My God!” he gasped, “Clifford is lost!”

Then his senses returned.

He realized that his friend was in mortal peril, and that he must go to
his aid. At any cost he must try and save him.

So he drew his ax from his girdle and made a leap forward.

In the meanwhile Clifford had been fighting for all that was in his
power. He wielded his ax with desperate energy.

He struck blow after blow at the huge tentacle which held him so firmly.
Each blow threatened to sever it.

But even as success was crowning his efforts, out darted another arm and
encircled him.

This was surely drawing him into the orifice, when Frank came to the
rescue.

The young inventor dealt a terrific blow at the tentacle. It partly
severed it. Another huge arm came stealing out, and Frank dealt it a
blow also.

Clifford was too exhausted to do more. But Frank threw an arm about him,
and dealing the tentacle a severing blow drew his friend quickly out of
reach.

Nothing more was seen of the octopus.

It did not emerge from its den, but a dense cloud of black fluid did,
and it so clouded the water that Frank was obliged to drag Clifford some
distance away.

The latter recovered quickly. Frank put his helmet close and shouted:

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” replied Clifford; “it was a close call!”

“Indeed it was!”

“But for you I should have lost my life!”

Frank made signs to return to the Dolphin, but Clifford felt sufficient
curiosity to ask:

“How about the boat?”

“There is but one way to get her off the reef.”

“And that——”

“I will explain when we get back to the boat.”

“All right!”

In a few moments they reached the rail. To their surprise they saw
Barney in the vestibule, all in his diver’s suit.

The brave Celt had seen their distress and was coming to their rescue.

“Begorra, Misther Frank!” he cried, when the two divers were once more
safely aboard. “I thought it was the end av yez. May the Howly Vargin be
praised, yez are all roight an’ safe!”

“Well; I thought our friend, Clifford, was surely done for,” said Frank,
“but by the best of good fortune he is still with us.”

“Which happy fact I owe to Mr. Reade,” declared Clifford. “I shall never
forget it.”

The matter was dropped now, however, for another important one. The
question as to the fate of the Dolphin was now brought up.

Frank was thoughtful for some while, and finally said:

“Wait until to-morrow. Then I will be able to decide.”

That night few in the party slept very soundly; at an early hour Pomp
had a steaming breakfast ready.

All were rather sober as they sat around the table.

“Well,” said Frank, “if we are doomed to spend the rest of our days at
the bottom of the sea we can count upon extending our span of life to a
limit of about two years.”

“How do you make that exact calculation?” asked Captain Hartley.

“There are just stores enough on board to last two years,” replied
Frank.

“After they are gone?”

Frank laughed nervously.

“Two years is a good long while in which to make up our minds what to
do. Perhaps before that time we may hit upon a good scheme.”

“Let us hope so,” said Clifford; “but we should like to hear of your
scheme of yesterday, Frank.”

“By all means!” cried Hartley.

“Huh! neber you mind,” cried Pomp. “Marse Frank he neber get stuck. He
fin’ some way out ob any kin’ ob a scrape.”

“Bejabers, that’s roight!” averred Barney.

After some reflection and much persuasion Frank divulged the plan which
had occurred to him.

“It is a simple one,” he said; “it consists merely of digging a mine
under the boat and trying to dislodge her with dynamite.”

“Hurrah!” cried Clifford. “What could be better?”

“So say I!” said Hartley.

But Frank shook his head slowly.

“There are many risks involved,” he said. “We must consider the
possibility of the Dolphin springing a leak, or of the dynamite
straining her timbers.”

“But—how can she spring a leak?”

“Her timbers or plates may be already started, and dislodging her may
start the leak in an instant.”

The faces of all fell.

“Is there any certainty of such being the case?” asked Hartley.

“No certainty,” replied Frank, “only a possibility, and a very strong
one at that.”

“Then it is narrowed down to a question of expediency, whether it is
better to risk instant death or the more lingering fate of two years
under the deep sea.”

“Exactly,” agreed Frank. “If we explode the dynamite now the boat may
fill and sink in ten minutes. There is the chance.”

“Humph!” said Hartley. “If we have got to die it may as well be now as
two years from now.”

Frank glanced around the little circle inquiringly.

“What do the rest of you say?” he asked. “Shall we accept the chance?”

“Put it to ballot,” said Hartley.

“Agreed!”

Clifford made out some ballots and handed them around. They were marked
and thrown on the table.

Hartley counted them.

His face wore an indescribable expression as he looked up and said:

“The question is settled. The ballot is unanimous.”

“In favor of——”

“The dynamite.”

Frank Reade, Jr., arose from his chair. He was very cool and steady as
he said to Barney:

“Bring up the metal canisters from the hold. Rig a wire with the
battery. Then procure picks and spades, put on your suits, you and Pomp,
and come with me.”

Pomp went for the picks and spades. In a few moments all was in
readiness.

Frank, with Barney and Pomp, donned diving suits.

Then they went out on deck, and a little later were at the keel of the
boat.

Frank directed the digging of the mine.

The coral was easily picked away, but the ledge rock required drilling
and splitting.

Slowly but surely the mine was made. All that day the work went on.

It was noon of the succeeding day, however, before it was finished. Then
the cartridges were placed.

Great bales, made of soft burlap filled with sand, were placed under the
keel and over the dynamite to act as a cushion and reduce the shock.

Then the wires were connected, and the three divers went aboard the
Dolphin.

They removed their diving suits, and Frank faced Clifford and Hartley,
who were pale and somewhat excited.

Now that the critical moment had come, each really shrank from the
mighty risk. Yet neither could justly be called a coward.

“Well?” said Hartley.

“Well!” exclaimed Clifford.

Then there was a period of silence. Frank looked keenly at the two men.

“What shall it be?” he asked. “I shall leave it all with you.”

“Do not hesitate on our account,” said Hartley firmly; “we do not shrink
from it.”

“All will be over in a very few moments. We shall know if it is to be
life or death.”

“It would be death in the long run anyway,” declared Clifford. “Whatever
it is, let us all meet our fate like brave men.”

“That settles it,” declared Frank, “prepare for the shock!”

Everything movable aboard the boat was carefully secured. Then Frank
announced all in readiness.

It was a moment of suspense.

Frank stood by the vestibule door with the wire and electric key in his
hand. He closed his eyes and spasmodically pressed it.

It was all a matter of momentous doubt. All hinged upon the result of
the explosion. Five human lives hung in the balance.

The result was instantaneous.

All that the voyagers could ever remember of the affair afterward was
that there was a terrific shock, a confused jumbling of ideas and
incidents, and then——

Frank Reade, Jr., opened his eyes and looked about him.

Wonder of wonders!

It was broad daylight.

They were on the surface of the sea. All about them was one heaving
expanse of blue.

“Great whales!” cried Captain Hartley. “What sort of a transformation do
you call this, mates?”

“We are saved!” cried Clifford.

“Begorra, it’s on the surface we are,” averred Barney. “Howiver did this
happen?”

“Huh! Don’ yo’ know, I’ish?” cried Pomp. “Yo’ done lef de switch ob de
reservoir turned on.”

“Bejabers that’s thrue!” cried the Celt. “I shure fergot it.”

“It’s all right!” cried Frank; “it helped the explosion to raise the
boat. Now it is only a question as to whether the boat leaks or not.”

“How shall we find out?”

“We will sink if she does,” laughed Frank; “but I think we could hear
the water coming in if such was the case.”

With which Frank went below. He listened at the bulkheads leading into
the hold.

But the boat seemed as buoyant as ever. There was not the slightest
indication that she was leaking.

The spirits of all now waxed more cheerful. It was a moral certainty
that the boat was saved and their lives as well.

But as this realization fully dawned upon them, a loud cry came from
Pomp.

“Hi, dar! luk out or we be run down, Marse Frank!”



                              CHAPTER VI.
                          PARKER’S DEEP GAME.


So engrossed had all been in the question of saving the Dolphin that
they were unconscious of other things transpiring near them.

All unnoticed, a full-rigged ship had come bearing down upon them from
the north.

It had been not a half mile distant when they came to the surface, but
they had not looked in that direction or noticed it.

It was now not fifty yards from the Dolphin and bearing directly down
upon the submarine boat. It looked as if there was a deliberate purpose
to run the boat down.

Frank Reade sprung into the pilot-house and switched the propeller
valve, at the same moment turning the rudder sharp about.

The engines responded instantly and the Dolphin switched about, not an
instant too soon.

The big ship’s hull just grazed her stern. It was certainly a very close
call.

Indignantly Frank threw open the pilot-house window and shouted:

“Ahoy, there, do you mean to run us down?”

Only a mumbling reply came back as the ship went on. Men were seen in
her chains and at her after rail.

The ship lay over to the wind and showed her stern. Instinctively all
looked for the name.

And before this could be seen, Captain Hartley, who had been staring at
the vessel, cried:

“Soul of old Neptune! It is the Aurelian, mates!”

The announcement was like a dynamite bomb to the others.

“The Aurelian!” gasped Clifford.

“Are you sure of it?” cried Frank, eagerly.

“Of course I am; don’t you suppose I would know my own ship in any part
of the world?” cried Hartley, indignantly.

“You ought to,” agreed Frank, “and your assertion is proved, for there
is the name!”

This was true.

Upon the stern of the passing vessel was the name “Aurelian.” That she
was Gilbert Parker’s ship was a dead certainty.

That she had meant to run the submarine boat down was also a sure thing.
It was an atrocious purpose, and made Frank’s blood boil.

“The mean wretch!” he cried, angrily, “he certainly meant to run us
down.”

“That he did!” cried Hartley; “that is just like old Parker.”

They discussed the matter, angrily. The Aurelian was already half a mile
away.

That she meant to recover the Veneta’s treasure if possible before the
Dolphin was a certainty. The thought angered Frank.

“I see the whole cowardly game!” he cried angrily. “And they shall pay
for it well. They shall never carry home one penny of the Veneta’s
gold!”

“But what could we do against them?” asked Hartley; “their ship is
larger than ours.”

“You forget,” replied Frank, “the torpedo boat is the most deadly craft
in the U.S. navy. We can attack her on the same scale.”

“You are right,” cried the captain. “We surely need fear nothing from
her. We could sail under her if we chose and sink her.”

“Just so,” said Frank. “At least I will give them a good lesson.”

He sprang into the pilot-house. He was about to give chase to the
Aurelian, when a warning cry came from Barney, who had just come up from
the engine-room.

“Shure, sor,” he said, “there’s bad luck to pay!”

“What do you mean?” asked Frank in surprise.

“The tank, sor, is out of order. Shure, it must have been the shock av
dynamite.”

“The tank!” exclaimed Frank, and sprung to the key board. He pressed the
pneumatic key. It would not operate.

The boat remained upon the surface. Barney was right.

The tank was certainly out of order. But what was the cause of it? Was
it the result of the explosion?

He reckoned that this was true. He went down into the hold and made a
quick examination.

This showed him that the tank had shifted its position, and bent the
tubes so that water could not be pressed through them. Until these were
straightened there was no hope of controlling the boat under water.

Frank studied the situation for some time.

He realized that it was an unfortunate situation, and that unless the
matter was remedied the expedition must prove a failure.

Just how much of a job it would be to repair the damage he could hardly
estimate.

“Well, Frank,” cried Clifford, “what do you think of it? Is it an
irreparable matter?”

“No,” replied the young inventor, slowly; “yet, to tell the truth, she
ought to go into the dry dock. The tank should be moved back and
properly stayed.”

“Is it impossible to do that without going into the dry dock?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then the game is up?”

“Not yet,” said Frank, hopefully, “there is a chance, I think we can
readjust and straighten the tubes. If so, then we shall be all right.”

“But that will delay us!”

“Certainly!”

“For how long?”

“A day!”

There was a dubious silence.

“Then the Aurelian will reach the Gulf of Honduras first. Perhaps she
may even recover the treasure.”

“Let her, if she can,” said Frank, “it will not be such an easy matter
for her. She will have to send down divers and make many preparations
which will take up time. We will get there about as soon as she does, I
think.”

Work was at once begun upon the twisted tubes.

Barney and Pomp brought all the necessary tools down into the place and
operations commenced.

As they progressed, Frank found that the job was not to be as difficult
as he had imagined.

The tubes were uncoupled and straightened, and the valves readjusted.
But it required fourteen hours of hard work.

In the meanwhile the Aurelian was long out of sight and well on her way
into the Gulf of Honduras. She must surely reach the sunken galleon
before the Dolphin.

“Fate seems to play a very important hand in this matter,” said
Clifford. “With all our accidents it is a wonder that we are able to
reach Honduras at all.”

“That is true,” agreed Frank, “but let us hope that we shall meet with
no more.”

“Amen!”

The tank was now once more in working order. In other respects the
Dolphin was all right.

Once again she set out for the continuance of her voyage.

Darkness was now over the sea. Yet the submarine boat, with her powerful
searchlight was enabled to make fully as good time as in daylight.

It was in the afternoon of the next day that Frank announced that they
had passed through the Yucatan Channel and were really in the Gulf of
Honduras.

Once more the diagram as prepared from memory by Clifford was consulted.

Sailing by this for hours the Dolphin kept on.

It was evening when they reached the locality where the Donna Veneta was
supposed to have sunk.

“This is the spot as near as I can locate it,” said Clifford.

“If that is true,” said Frank, “we have outwitted Parker, for the
Aurelian is certainly not in this vicinity.”

It was true that no vessel was in sight. The Aurelian must have gone
upon the wrong tack.

“What will we do?” asked Captain Hartley; “shall we wait until morning,
or attempt to explore the ocean by electric light?”

“Even in daylight we should have to use the searchlight,” said Clifford
eagerly. “Suppose we examine it now, Frank?”

“All right,” agreed the young inventor. “All is ready for the descent.”

The doors and windows were quickly and hermetically closed. Then the
Dolphin plunged beneath the surface.

Down she went for several hundred fathoms before the bottom was seen.

Then a sandy plain lay before them.

“That is good!” cried Frank. “It will be easier to find the Donna Veneta
than if the bottom was covered with weeds.”

“True,” agreed Clifford. “I hope we will not be long in discovering
her.”

All hands now posted themselves at the windows. The searchlight flashed
everywhere across the sandy plain, while the boat moved slowly about in
the quest.

All manner of curious objects were encountered. Sometimes a huge
projecting ledge of rock would be mistaken for the wreck.

And thus the search went on slowly and systematically. Results were not
far distant.



                              CHAPTER VII.
                               A PARLEY.


For the rest of the night the quest was kept up. It was morning before
anything worthy of note was discovered.

Then Frank in the pilot-house flashing the light into the far depths
gave a sudden start.

The object which met his gaze was certainly one well worthy of attention
and interest.

He saw several forms groping about at the base of a small reef. He knew
at once from their shape that they were not marine animals.

“On my word!” he cried, “here’s a go!”

In a moment Clifford and Hartley were by his side.

“What is it?” cried the latter.

“Look!”

Frank pointed to the distant objects. A startled exclamation burst from
the lips of both men.

“Well I’m beat!” gasped Clifford; “they are human beings.”

“Divers!” exclaimed Hartley.

“Nothing more nor less,” said Frank. “It is quite likely that the
Aurelian is just overhead.”

“That is the whole story!” cried Clifford. “They are looking for the
Donna Veneta.”

Frank put on more speed.

“Well,” he said shortly, “let us run down and interview them!”

“Correct,” said Clifford. “We will ask a bit of an explanation.”

The divers were apparently astonished at the sudden radiance of the
searchlight. They stood in a group waiting for developments.

As the submarine boat came rushing down they seemed alarmed, but Frank
showed himself at the pilot-house windows, and made conciliatory
gestures.

The submarine boat came to a halt not ten yards from the divers. No sign
of the Donna Veneta’s wreck was visible anywhere.

“Get on a diving suit, Barney!” cried Frank. “Go out and ask them what
they are doing here.”

“All roight, sor!”

Barney hastened to obey orders. But before he could leave the boat, the
divers gave the signal and were pulled up rapidly to the surface.

Frank instantly reversed the tank lever. The Dolphin began to rise.

“Where are you going, Frank?” asked Clifford in surprise.

“To the surface!”

“What for?”

“I want to see whether these men are from the Aurelian or not.”

“Good!”

The Dolphin sprung up out of the deep sea. All was daylight and the sun
was well up toward the meridian.

A vessel lay to not one hundred yards distant. There were a group of men
leaning over her rail and apparently hauling up something on lines.

These, of course, were the divers. A moment later they were pulled
safely over the rail.

Frank instantly sailed nearer the Aurelian, for she it was, and made
signals.

In response a man appeared in the shrouds. He was at once recognized. It
was Gilbert Parker.

“There is the old chap himself!” cried Cecil.

“Let us see what he has to say,” said Frank, as he stepped out on the
deck.

It was but a moment’s work to answer the hail of Parker. The latter’s
words were pitched in a snarling key.

“What do you want?”

“We want to have a talk with you!” cried Frank. “Come over in a small
boat. You will be safe.”

“I have no business that I wish to transact with you.”

“Ah, but it may be to your interest to talk with us,” returned Frank.
“You had better grant us an interview.”

A snarling, unintelligible reply came back. Then a boat put out from the
Aurelian’s side and was rowed swiftly alongside the Dolphin.

Gilbert Parker and a dark-browed man stood in the bow. They stepped out
on the Dolphin’s deck.

“Captain Warren,” said Parker, with a peculiar smile, as he exchanged
salutes and introduced his companion, “he is the present sailing master
of the Aurelian.”

Then he turned abruptly to Frank and said:

“What are you doing here?”

Frank gazed keenly at the old rascal for a moment, and then replied with
deliberation:

“We are in search of the sunken galleon Donna Veneta. What are you here
for?”

Parker’s gaze shifted, but he managed to make reply:

“We are here for the same purpose.”

“Do you think your course has been an honorable one?” asked Frank
cuttingly.

“To the victor belongs the spoils!” was the evasive but bold reply.

“How did you know where to look for the galleon?”

“Did I not see the diagram?”

“Did you not steal it?”

“Do you mean to insult me?” snapped Parker, angrily.

“I mean to speak plainly and truthfully to you,” said Frank firmly; “the
diagram disappeared that very night that it was shown to you!”

“Very substantial evidence of my guilt,” sneered Parker; “did any one
see me take it?”

“It matters not whether any one saw you take it or not,” declared Frank,
“the fact remains that you knew where to look for the sunken galleon,
and you could not have done so without some means of guidance.”

Parker grinned impudently.

“Well,” he said, “have I not as good a right to the gold as you?”

“No,” replied Frank, “the gold belongs rightfully to Mr. Clifford, who
discovered the records of its existence. You prove yourself a thief by
your underhand methods in trying to get it.”

“You dare to call me a thief?” cried Parker hotly.

“You are worse than a thief! You are capable of any crime!”

Something in Frank’s steely eye held the villain at bay. He glared at
him madly for some moments, and then said:

“I do not intend that anybody else shall recover that treasure. I have
come down into these waters for it and I intend to find it. If you
interfere with me I shall blow you into atoms. You may take the
warning!”

“Really,” said Frank, with a smile. “You are quite a bully, Mr. Parker.
Be sure of your strength before you venture to make threats. As for the
Donna Veneta’s gold it is not a certainty that it can ever be found or
recovered by either of us. However, if it is found we shall claim it by
right of Mr. Clifford’s just claim, and you will not dare to deny it.
Let this terminate the interview. Good-day!”

Frank turned on his heel and went into the cabin.

Parker stood a moment the personification of rage and hatred. Then he
shook his fist at Frank’s retreating form, and hissed:

“We shall see! Gilbert Parker never fails. Beware!”

With which he turned and stepped into his own boat. He was rowed back to
the Aurelian.

Frank, in the pilot-house, closed the doors, and then pressed the lever
which caused the Dolphin to sink.

Down she settled rapidly until finally she rested upon the sandy bottom
of the sea.

“Now,” he said, “we will proceed to search for the Donna Veneta.”

“If it is our good fortune to find the galleon’s gold, is there not
danger that we may have trouble with Parker?” asked Clifford.

“I don’t see how he can trouble us!” said Frank. “We are out of his way
and can keep so. If I were so inclined I could sink his ship now.”

“It would be a mercy!” declared Hartley. “I have no grudge against the
ship. It is only the owner!”

“Wait!” said Frank decidedly. “You will see that his fate will yet
overtake him. I have never seen it fail. Rascality is bound to meet its
just reward!”

Preparations were made for renewing the search for the galleon.

As full two hundred years had elapsed since she had gone to the bottom,
it was likely that she was buried somewhat in the sand.

This drifting for two centuries over her hull might indeed have
completely covered her up.

The only way, therefore, to make sure of her discovery was to search for
some part of her rigging or hull, which might yet project itself above
the sand, or at least the finding of some object which might guide them
as to her exact location.

To be sure this seemed somewhat like looking for a needle in a haystack,
but yet the search was carried on.

Barney and Clifford were selected to accompany Frank. Pomp and Hartley
were to manipulate the searchlight aboard the Dolphin.

And thus the quest, began.

Donning their diving suits, the three searchers left the Dolphin. They
made their way over the sandy floor armed with spades.

It was a close and careful search which they proceeded to

And after wandering some distance from the Dolphin, Frank made the first
important discovery.

He saw an object wedged in a projecting spur of coral. He extricated and
examined it.

It was the rusted hilt of a sword. But little was left of the ivory
grip, but the steel and gold frame was intact.

In an instant Barney and Clifford were by his side.

They placed their helmets together and Clifford shouted:

“You have made a discovery of value, Frank.”

“Yes, I think I have,” replied the young inventor.

“Perhaps the ship is right under us at this moment?”

“I think it would be well to dig down a bit and see what is beneath us,”
said Frank.

“Whurro! Here goes thin!” cried Barney, thrusting his spade into the
sand. He turned up a spadeful.

Then his spade struck something solid. An object was brought to view. It
was stationary.

“What is it?” asked Clifford.

Frank bent down and examined it. Then he arose and said:

“It is the stump of a ship’s mast. On my word, friends, I believe the
galleon lies buried beneath us.”



                             CHAPTER VIII.
                           A DIVERS’ BATTLE.


Barney cut a caper in the sand, and Clifford fairly embraced Frank.

“Hurrah!” he cried. “Success is bound to be ours!”

“It looks like it!”

“If the galleon is under us we have only to dig down to her deck level,
and then find our way into her cabin.”

“Just so!”

“How is the sand?”

“Judging from the size of the mast and the point at which she is broken
off, I should say not more than four or five feet.”

“Why, it will take no time to dig down that far.”

“It ought not to.”

“Here goes!”

Having a spade also, Clifford began to dig with Barney. In a very few
moments the blades struck something solid. The sand was scraped away,
and boards were revealed.

“The ship’s deck!” cried Clifford, half insane with glee. “Hurrah! Now
we have hit it!”

Quickly they cleared a space of several feet. To the surprise of all the
timbers seemed as well preserved and sound as ever.

“That is remarkable!” cried Frank, “after a lapse of two centuries.
There must be some preservative element in the water here!”

“Indeed I thought of that myself,” declared Clifford, “it seems to be
more buoyant and of a different quality from ordinary sea water. And
there is a peculiar substance in the sand which is uncommon!”

An effort would have been at once made to cut a section of the deck away
had it not been for an incident quite unforeseen.

They were just at the angle of quite a high reef.

Around this suddenly five men appeared in diving suits with ropes and
life lines.

They were the Aurelian divers. Each one carried a heavy ax and a spade.
They paused at sight of the three divers from the Dolphin.

For a moment not a move was made by either party. Then Clifford leaned
forward and shouted to Frank:

“They are Parker’s men!”

“Yes!”

“What do you think their game is? Will they trouble us?”

“I am sure of it, if they think we have discovered the galleon.”

“They must know that we have.”

“Yes.”

“Look! They are menacing us! What shall we do?”

“There is but one thing to do,” declared Frank, grittily. “We must
defend ourselves at all hazards!”

The five divers from the Aurelian were handicapped somewhat more than
their rivals on account of the life lines.

But this did not deter them from making a threatening move just the
same.

They advanced with excited gestures. The foremost, Frank fancied, was
Parker himself.

The young inventor was not a little disturbed as to what the outcome of
the affair would be.

If blows were resorted to, then there must be loss of life. This was
something which Frank always deprecated.

He could not endure the thought of destroying these men, though they
meant to destroy him.

It was an easy matter to cut their life lines and terminate their
existence in a brief moment.

And yet the horror of the thing held him enthralled.

The divers advanced threateningly, evidently confident that they could
drive away the three men with their superior

But this was not so easy.

Frank and his companions stood side by side.

“Do not strike unless we are really attacked,” he declared, “then do not
take their lives if you can help it.”

The foremost of the Aurelian’s men made a dive at Frank.

The young inventor struck the fellow over the helmet with the flat end
of his spade.

The shock laid him out senseless; but another followed him.

This one struck Clifford to his knees. But Barney went to the rescue and
saved the explorer’s life.

A quick blow from the Celt’s spade dashed the diver over senseless. The
other three drew back.

It was now even up. Barney was spoiling for a fight.

He shook his spade and rushed toward the three divers. But at that
moment one of them apparently became terrified and pulled on the danger
line.

In an instant they were twirled upward and out of sight. The insensible
ones also went.

For a moment our divers stood spellbound. Then they placed their helmets
together, and Clifford shouted:

“Hurrah! a victory for us!”

“They evidently got more than they bargained for,” said Frank.

“Begorra, it’s a moighty lucky thing fer them that they went!” cried
Barney. “Shure I wud soon have laid thim all out, the spalpeens!”

“They certainly were not overwell gifted with pluck,” agreed Frank. “But
I am sure that we are not done with them yet!”

“So am I,” agreed Clifford; “old Parker is a literal bloodhound. He will
never leave a scent.”

“Bejabers, let thim cum again if they want to!” cried Barney. “Shure,
I’m in fer thryin’ to get into the buried ship again.”

“That’s right!” cried Frank. “We must not abandon that scheme. Let us be
at work!”

They picked up their spades and once more set heartily at work.

So swiftly did Barney and Clifford throw sand that it was not long
before a large space on the galleon’s deck had been cleared.

Then a closed hatch was revealed.

Barney put his spade under it and quickly pried it open. Some stairs
descended into the cabin below.

Frank placed his helmet against Clifford’s and shouted:

“I will descend first. It will be better for only one of us to explore
the galleon at a time. The Aurelian’s men may return at any time.”

Clifford saw the justice of this, and said:

“You are right. We will hold guard here.”

Frank put a foot on the cabin stairs. He descended quickly and entered
the cabin.

As he did so, he came to a startled halt in the center of the cabin.
What followed was ever after to him like a hideous nightmare.

The electric globe on his helmet lit up everything in the cabin.

And in its sickening glare the scene which was enacted was enough to
freeze the blood in the veins of any ordinary man.

“My soul!” he gasped, and threw up his arms.

From every corner of the cabin there rushed toward him ghastly stiffened
human bodies, corpses of men who had been dead for two centuries. Could
he believe his senses?

The agitation he created in the water of the pent-up cabin caused the
bodies to fly toward him like steel particles toward a magnet. He put up
his hands to ward them off.

In every conceivable and distorted shape were the ghastly occupants of
the cabin.

There they were, hideous in death, savage-looking men, cutthroats and
scoundrels of the past two centuries. But how was it that they were not
dust long ago?

How was it that they had been so well preserved? Was it the action of
the water, or the fact that they had for so long been closed up in that
cabin?

One old fellow in a gold-laced coat and with long, flowing hair and
beard came rushing toward Frank.

But even as the young inventor pushed him aside the coat crumbled and
one arm dropped away.

The influx of fresh water from above was beginning to tell.

It could be easily seen that the preservation of the bodies for such a
wonderful period of time was due wholly to a certain element in the
water, and the fact that they had been closely bottled up in the cabin.

These men had, two centuries before, sailed the waters of the Honduras
Gulf and left their homes in sunny Spain to seek an El Dorado in the New
World.

And this had been their end. It was a wonderful thing to ponder upon.

Frank stood spellbound.

While the ghastly forms, contorted and twisted into every possible
shape, went sailing about the cabin.

Some of them had already begun to fall into dissolution. The ultimate
end of all was assured.

But Frank soon regained his composure.

His momentary dread of the corpses passed away, and he now bethought
himself of looking for the galleon’s hidden gold.

That this was really the Donna Veneta he felt assured.

After some moments he steeled his nerves and essayed to cross the cabin.

Horrors!

The hideous corpses came rushing about him, striking him and brushing by
in unwelcome contact.

For an instant, overcome with the horror of the moment, Frank struck out
right and left fighting the corpses away.

Thus he had made his way half across the cabin floor when a strange
thing happened.

There was a sudden terrific shock, he was hurled upon his face, and for
a few seconds was stunned.

When he came to he regained his feet and started for the cabin stairs.
His one thought was that something terrible had happened.

To find out what this was from Barney and Clifford was his first
purpose.

He sprung up the stairs, but came to a sudden halt.

His progress was barred. His head struck the hatch above. It was closed.

For a moment Frank was astounded. Then he essayed to lift the hatch.

He pressed his weight against it time and again. But each time it
refused to yield.



                              CHAPTER IX.
                          THE GALLEON’S GOLD.


What did it mean?

He tried to clear his befogged mind and think clearly on the subject,
but the result was that he was always more perplexed.

He pounded on the hatch, and would have shouted to Barney and Clifford
had he been sure that they would hear him.

If they were still outside, they certainly must be aware that the hatch
was closed.

Why, then, did they not lift it? Why should they for so long allow it to
remain closed?

Then a chilling thought came to Frank.

He gasped and sank down upon the cabin stairs.

“My soul! Can it be possible?” he muttered. “Am I buried alive?”

He remembered the explosion or shock which had flung him upon his face!

What did it mean?

Had something happened above to seal the fate of his friends as well as
his own? Yet he could not imagine what that happening could be.

“I will not believe it,” he muttered. “I will wait. They will yet come
to my rescue.”

Time passed slowly enough.

Yet the rescue did not come.

However, Frank did not give up hope, and fresh interest was aroused in
his mind in the galleon’s gold.

“Why waste my time,” he thought, “if anything has happened they will dig
me out in good time. I am not afraid of that.”

With which consoling reflection he set out to find the galleon’s gold.

Once more he started across the cabin floor.

He gained a door on the opposite side and pushed against it. It opened
and he walked in.

Again the hideous corpses attacked him. But he heeded them not.

Into a second cabin he passed.

One happy state of affairs he noticed. There were no dead bodies in the
place.

It was evidently the captain’s cabin; everything was in a remarkable
state of preservation.

He passed along to the captain’s table. The sextant, quadrant box,
compass and globe were yet there; but the charts and maps and all papers
had dissolved.

This was to be regretted, as the true history of the Donna Veneta might
never be known.

But Frank was looking for the galleon’s gold.

He opened the doors of the desk; they were filled with miscellaneous
articles. There were a few gold and silver coins and a number of jewels.

Frank passed on from the captain’s cabin into the forward cabin. This
was also deserted. But everything in the place seemed in a perfect state
of preservation.

The young inventor did not waste much time here.

He looked curiously at some articles of bric-a-brac which had withstood
the rack of time. Some of them were of value, and he decided to have
them removed to the Dolphin.

So interested did he become in his research that he became quite
oblivious of the fact that he was imprisoned alive in a sunken ship.

Beyond this cabin there was the forecastle. This contained no material
of value, but the seamen’s chests were in some cases open and the
contents thrown carelessly about, just as their owners had left them.

Frank spent but little time in the forecastle.

Then he went below into the hold. Here were the stores which the
Spaniards had placed aboard the Veneta for her long cruise.

There were casks of wine, rich old Madeira, of priceless value now,
could it be brought to the light of day. Great barrels of pork and ship
biscuits, and other matters too numerous for specific mention.

Through the hold Frank went to the magazine. Here was a goodly store of
powder and ball. Next was the gun-room, with many stands of small arms
of the ancient firelock pattern.

“Well,” muttered the young inventor, after all this, “where is the
princely fortune of gold which is supposed to be contained in this
vessel? Surely it must be hid away in some secret part of the ship, if
it exists at all.”

And yet he saw no reasons for doubting its existence. He remembered that
the treasure rooms aboard these old galleons were generally secret
chambers.

In that case he must look for such; with which recollection he began
examining the partitions and bulkheads.

It seemed more logical to him that the treasure chamber should be
contiguous to the captain’s room.

So he went thither.

And examining the wainscoting thoroughly, he found that there existed
quite a large space between that and the main cabin.

“I see,” he muttered; “this is where the treasure room is located. But
now how can entrance to it be obtained?”

This was a question, but Frank fell to closely searching the surface of
the wainscoting.

This had a speedy result.

He discovered a slender crack which he felt sure outlined a door. He
followed it with his finger until he came to a tiny button set in the
wood.

On this he pressed.

The result was quickly apparent.

A section of the wainscoting moved back. Time had not affected the locks
and springs.

A square chamber was revealed beyond.

Frank flashed his electric light into it. Then he entered.

The treasure chamber was about eight by ten feet square, but it was half
filled with metal chests piled one upon the other.

These were all locked, and resisted the strongest efforts of the young
inventor.

But they were extremely heavy, and he doubted not but that they
contained gold or silver coin.

That this was the treasure chamber of the vessel he made sure by the
discovery of a rude reckoning in Spanish scratched upon a brass tablet
with a bodkin of steel.

Each chest had one of these plates affixed to it, and they announced the
contents of each in pesos.

Frank counted the chests, and making an average, estimated the fortune
at the enormous sum of two million dollars.

“What will Clifford and Hartley say?” he thought; “surely it will be a
surprise to them.”

Then a chill struck him.

He remembered his position and the peculiar shock which he had
experienced some while before.

“I wonder if they have got the hatch open yet?” he mused.

With which reflection he decided to go back and see. Accordingly he
opened the door to the main cabin.

And as he did so he shivered at the ordeal before him.

There were the hideous array of corpses yet swinging round the circle.
They grinned at him in a fiendish way, and then made a dash at him.

Frank, in spite of himself, gave a shriek and slammed the door after
him. Then he hurled the frightful cadavers from him.

Many of them had melted away into ashes upon the cabin floor, but others
seemed to hold their own.

“Ugh!” muttered the young inventor. “I can’t say that I like this.”

However, he made his way across the cabin to the stairway. Up this he
clambered.

He put his hand up. The hatch was still down.

He tried to force it upward.

It would not yield.

For a moment a stunned feeling came over Frank. He sank down upon the
stairs and an awful reflection came over him.

“They have deserted me!” he muttered. “My God, they have left me to
die!”

Imprisoned forever in that sunken vessel with the corpses of two hundred
years ago for companions!

Truly it was an awful situation. What could he do?

Frank Reade, Jr., was a brave young man. But in spite of this he was
almost unnerved by the reflection.

The temptation was strong upon him to end the affair then and there. Why
make the end a lingering one?

All sorts of tragic fancies forced themselves upon him.

Dead to the world, buried alive, destined never to see God’s sunlight
and beautiful day again.

What a horrible thought.

In his very agony of spirit he wailed:

“God help me! Is there no chance for my life? Can I not find my way out
of here in some way?”

Then he became calmer. Never were his inventive faculties keener. A sort
of desperation was upon him.

“I will find a way out!” he muttered resolutely.

He drew his ax from his belt and began work upon the hatch. But it was
of toughest oak and seemed to yield but a little to the keen blade.



                               CHAPTER X.
                      WHAT BECAME OF THE DOLPHIN.


But what of the others?

What had happened?

Barney and Clifford were holding vigil at the opening to the hatchway.
They were waiting eagerly for word from Frank Reade, Jr.

All of a sudden there was a blinding flash of brightest light, an awful
roar and a shock.

Both men were lifted as if by a catapult and whirled away in surging
masses of water.

They had instinctive sense enough to cling to each other through all.

It seemed an interminable length of time that they were tossed and
hurled and carried through the water.

Then they sank and once more felt the bed of the ocean beneath them.

They lay upon the sands for some little while.

Then the water grew calm about them and they recovered themselves. They
sat up and looked about.

The locality did not greatly differ from the one they had left.

It was the same expanse of sand and coral reef.

Their helmet lights made a limited circle of radiance about them. Beyond
that all was darkness.

“Well,” exclaimed Clifford, placing his helmet against Barney’s, “what
does this mean?”

“Shure, sor; it beats me. I’m afther thinkin’ somethin’ blew up!”

“Oh, yes, there was an explosion.”

“Shure, sor.”

“But what was it?”

“I’m sthuck, sor.”

“Could it have been the Dolphin?”

Barney shook his head.

“I’ll niver believe that, sor. No, it’s my opinion that thim omadhouns
av the Aurelian had the insthrumentality av it all.”

Clifford gave a start.

“I have it!” he cried.

“Phwat, sor?”

“It is the work of Parker. He dropped a torpedo down upon us. It’s a
wonder that it did not kill us. If his aim had been true we should now
be dead!”

The Celt looked his horror.

“Shure, an’ phwat av it sthruck the Dolphin?”

“I do not think it fell in that locality,” declared Clifford, “though I
have no doubt the Dolphin felt the shock somewhat.”

Then Barney gave a wild start.

“But, shure, sor, it’s fools we are to be here an’ leave Misther Frank
phwere he is.”

“That is right,” agreed Clifford. “We must go and look for him.”

With which they got upon their feet and looked about them.

Nothing was to be seen of the Dolphin or her searchlight. All was gloom
about them.

But beyond the circle of their helmet lamps Clifford saw a white reef.

“The sunken galleon is on the other side of that,” he said; “the shock
of the explosion carried us over here.”

“All roight, sor!” cried Barney, with alacrity.

So they set out for the reef. Below was a sandy plain, and they fancied
they could see the excavation over the galleon’s deck.

But when they reached the spot it was not there. Nor was there anything
at all familiar in the surroundings.

“Well,” muttered Clifford. “I can’t say that I like this. Let us look on
further.”

And this they proceeded to do.

From one spot to another they wandered. But each grew less familiar and
the more strongly impressed the fact upon them that they were lost.

Hundreds of fathoms from the surface in very mid-ocean. What an awful
reflection.

It held the two men aghast. Nothing but despair and death hung over them
like a grim pall.

Meanwhile what of the Dolphin and Pomp and Hartley?

At the moment that the torpedo exploded Pomp was adjusting the
searchlight, and Hartley was watching the operations of his friends in
digging for the galleon.

“They have found it, Pomp!” he cried; “and Frank has gone down into it.”

“Golly! I done hope nuffin happen to him down dere!” cried the coon.
“I’se drefful afeared ob gittin’ in some place laike dat whar yo’ never
kin git out!”

“I share your fears, Pomp,” said Hartley. “Yet we must admit that Frank
knows his business well.”

“Fo’ suah, sah!”

The words were barely out of Pomp’s lips when he saw a distant object
come sliding down through the water.

“Wha’ ‘am dat?” he muttered, but said no more.

The instant the object touched the bed of the sea, there was a fearful,
blinding flash, an awful boom and shock.

Then all was chaos and oblivion for a time.

The Dolphin was picked up as if it was a bubble, and hurled through the
waters most violently.

It seemed as if it would never cease whirling, when there was a crash
and a shock. Then Pomp found himself standing on his head in a corner of
the cabin, and Hartley was jammed into another corner.

It was some moments before either recovered breath enough to speak.

Then suddenly the electric lights were paled by the light of day. Both
glanced through the windows and saw that they were on the surface of the
sea.

The Aurelian was seen some distance away.

“Jemina!” exclaimed Hartley as he gained his feet, “what on earth
happened to us?”

“Golly, dat am jes’ wha’ I was finkin’!” cried Pomp.

Then, rubbing their bruises, they looked about to see what harm had been
done.

But the boat was apparently uninjured, and floated lightly on the
rolling waves.

But certainly something had happened to bring the boat to the surface in
such a startling manner.

What this was Hartley tried to think. Then all came to him.

“By the north star!” he cried, “that was a torpedo those rascals
exploded, thinking to annihilate us!”

“A torpedo!” exclaimed Pomp. “Den it am berry lucky dat we was not
blowed up!”

“Indeed it was!” exclaimed Hartley. “I wish I had a gun; I’d sink their
infernal craft!”

“Hi, dar—look out!” yelled Pomp. “Dey hab got a gun fo’ suah!”

A puff of smoke leaped from the side of the Aurelian. There was a
distant boom, and a shot passed not a foot above the vessel’s rail.

The aim was not so close as it would be next time, and Hartley knew it.

“Look out, Pomp!” he cried, “they mean to sink us! Send her to the
bottom again!”

“Golly, dat am jes’ wha’ I will do!” cried the darky.

He sprung to the keyboard. He swung the tank lever about. But the boat
did not sink.

The darky was astounded. A shade of dismay crept across his face.

“Fo’ de lan’s sake!” he muttered. “Wha’ am de mattah? Am anyfing bruk?”

“Mercy on us!” cried Hartley; “don’t say that, Pomp! What will become of
Frank and the others?”

It was a fearful reflection.

Boom!

Another shot came within an inch of taking away the bow of the submarine
boat.

“They are a set of pirates and murderers!” cried Hartley angrily; “show
them no mercy!”

“Massy Lordy! It don’ look as if we was gwine fo’ to hab de chance!”
declared the coon.

“Well, don’t expose the boat any longer to the shots. We must at least
get out of here!”

“Yo’ am right, sah! Yer goes!”

The coon put on speed and sped beyond range of the Aurelian’s gun. Then
Pomp applied himself to the all-important matter of repairing the boat.

Pomp was not as thorough a mechanic as Barney, yet he knew something of
the mechanism of the Dolphin. He worked zealously.

He found eventually that the shock had dislodged a piece of steel
plating in the bulkhead, which had fallen into the cogs of the tank
trucks and so obstructed them.

To remove this was a matter of no little effort and time.

It required six hours of active work to put the damaged trucks back into
good shape.

All this while the Aurelian had been sending down divers as Hartley saw
through his glass.

Whether they had discovered the treasure or not was a question.

If they had, then there must have been some sort of an encounter, and
Pomp and Hartley feared for the safety of their friends.

Pomp worked like a Trojan to get the boat into working order again, for
he knew the importance of at once going to the rescue of the lost ones.

But of a sudden the Aurelian seemed to be pulling up anchor and getting
ready to sail away.

The cause of this move was for a time a mystery to Pomp and Hartley.

But the captain chanced to glance at the horizon, and cried:

“On my word, mate, I see the reason for it. Look yonder!”

Up from the southern horizon great masses of yellow clouds were piling
up.

The sky had a brassy look, and the sea was lead-like.

“A storm, sah!”

“Yes!” cried the captain; “it is a storm coming up, and they mean to
shift their position. Probably they will run for the protection of some
cay near here. There is one on the western sea line. It is, I think,
Miller’s Cay.”

“Dat am berry funny!” muttered Pomp, shaking his head; “but it gibs us a
good chance.”

“You are right! How is the tank?”

“A’right now, sah! I done fink we can go to the bottom berry quick,
sah.”

“Good!”

Pomp closed the doors, and then went into the pilot-house. He pressed
the tank lever.

At once the boat began to sink.

Down she went steadily, and Pomp, flashing the searchlight, finally saw
the bottom.

Under the sea the Dolphin had nothing to fear from the hurricane. This
was her advantage over the Aurelian.

It was now in order to find the missing men of the crew. What their fate
was could only be guessed.

But Pomp sent the submarine boat forward at full speed. In a very few
moments she was in the vicinity of the spot from which she had been
driven by the explosion of the bomb.

But the exact location did not seem easy to find.

“Dat am berry funny!” declared Pomp, after cruising aimlessly about for
awhile. “Wherebber can dey hab bin? Whar am dat sunken ship?”

A sharp spasmodic cry suddenly escaped Hartley’s lips and he said
hoarsely:

“My soul! Look yonder. What is that?”



                              CHAPTER XI.
                          FRANK’S ADVENTURES.


Frank Reade, Jr., left in the cabin of the sunken galleon was certainly
in a position which it is hardly possible for one to adequately realize.

All hope seemed lost.

The failure of his friends to return or open the hatch had satisfied him
that their fate was sealed.

His one aim now was to get out of the galleon’s cabin.

So he rained blow after blow with his ax upon the closed hatch. But it
seemed obdurate.

Above one layer of planks was another.

This was discouraging.

Yet he kept on and after a long period of fatiguing work actually
succeeded in cutting a hole through the hatch.

But as he did so his ax sunk into some substance which moved and fell in
some quantity. It was sand.

“Mercy!” muttered the despair-stricken man, “it is true that the sand
has again covered the deck up.”

In this event his efforts to dig his way out would be futile.

He was aweary and exhausted. In fact, he had barely strength enough left
to creep down the ladder.

A strange drowsiness came over him. He could not resist it.

He crept back to the captain’s cabin and sank down upon a couch. Almost
instantly he was asleep.

How long he slept he never knew.

When he awoke he started up with a queer sense of his surroundings. In a
few moments, however, memory supplied the blank.

Then he looked about him in a hopeless way.

He wondered if rescue had yet come, and arose to open the door into the
main cabin.

As he did so he was startled at an unexpected sight.

The hatch was open and a man’s body was just sliding down through it.

“Saved!” gasped the imprisoned man with a wild thrill. Then he ceased to
speak.

He stood like one overcome with horror.

“On my word,” he finally managed to mutter, “fate has played it into
Parker’s hands after all.”

For it required no second glance for him to see that the new-comer was
one of the Aurelian’s crew.

The peculiar fit of his diving suit and the life lines were evidence of
this.

For a moment Frank knew not what to do.

Should he face the new-comers and give them battle? He could hardly hope
to successfully meet such odds.

What should he do?

In lieu of a better move he stepped behind the captain’s big desk.
Through an orifice in the scrolled frame he could see and not be seen.

Down into the main cabin came four of the Aurelian’s men.

They were held at bay for some moments by the ghostly crew of the
Veneta. But the love of gold overcame all their scruples finally and
they came across to the door of the captain’s room.

They stepped inside, and as Frank had done before them, carefully
examined everything.

Fortunately Frank had closed the door to the treasure vault; they did
not find this.

But they came up to the captain’s desk and proceeded to ransack it.
Frank watched them intently.

What should he do? In the very indecision of the moment the divers from
the Aurelian moved away.

They passed from the captain’s cabin into the forward cabin; for a
moment Frank hesitated.

It would have been an easy matter for him to have reached out and cut
the life lines of his foes.

But he shrank from such an act of murder with repugnance.

His one purpose was to reach the gangway and get out of the hold of the
vessel as soon as possible.

It seemed to him that his best move was to regain the deck of the
submarine boat and rejoin his friends as soon as possible.

So, when the divers had passed from the captain’s cabin into the main
cabin, he slipped out from his concealment and started for the gangway.

Fatal move!

One of the Aurelian’s men turned just in time to see him. Instantly the
fellow raised his ax and hurled it at Frank.

It was at close range, and the blunt head of it struck the young
inventor’s helmet.

The shock was sufficient to instantly deprive him of his senses.

He fell like a log.

In a moment his captors were upon him. One of them fiercely raised his
ax to brain the defenseless man.

But another caught his arm, and thrusting his helmet against his,
shouted:

“Avast there, Parker! Don’t kill him yet!”

“Why not, Warren? Let go of my arm! There is no reason why I should
spare his life!”

“Yes, there is!”

“What is it?”

“It is likely that he can give us information in regard to the galleon’s
gold. At any rate do not kill him yet, messmate.”

Captain Warren’s admonition had its effect upon Gilbert Parker. The
would-be murderer lowered his ax.

“All right, Warren,” he said; “perhaps you’re right after all.”

Frank’s body was lifted up and he was placed upon a rotting couch near.
He was already regaining his consciousness.

But at this moment Warren gave a start. He placed his helmet to Parker’s
and shouted:

“A danger signal from above!”

“What is it?”

“Wait until I can learn.”

Warren was enabled to speak through his tube with those on the
Aurelian’s deck.

Presently he turned to Parker and said:

“A hurricane is coming up. Mate Clark has already got the anchor under
way, and has recalled our boat.”

“Then we have got to give up the search for now?”

“Yes.”

“But how can we escape the hurricane?”

“Make for Miller’s Cay, which is within sight of the ship’s masthead. We
can then return and reclaim the galleon’s gold.”

The diving lines did not proceed from the Aurelian’s deck, but from a
small launch which was moored at some little distance from the ship.

So when the crew of the Dolphin saw the Aurelian weigh anchor the divers
were not aboard her, nor did they get aboard until some while later.

A consultation was held as to what it was best to do with their captive.

“Take off his weights and take him aboard with us,” cried Parker.

“No!” objected Warren.

“I have a better plan.”

“Ah, what is it?”

“Leave him here. Batten down the hatches and let him stay until we
return. Bind him so that he cannot move!”

“Capital!” cried Parker. “We can decide what else to do with him when we
return!”

“Exactly.”

This move decided upon, no time was lost in executing it.

Frank was quickly bound hand and foot. Then he was left lying upon his
back in the main cabin, with the floating corpses all about him.

His captors disappeared up the stairway and he was left alone.

He heard them batten down the hatch and cover it over with sand. Then he
groaned:

“Oh, my soul! I am truly lost. The end of this can only be death.”

                  *       *       *       *       *

The sharp cry uttered by Hartley at the close of a preceding chapter
while he and Pomp were sailing blindly about in the deep sea with the
Dolphin was well warranted.

Afar in the distance the captain saw a faint star of light.

It was not in the searchlight’s path, and consequently easily seen. Pomp
also saw it.

“What is that?”

“Massy Lordy!” gasped Pomp. “Wha’ am it but de helmet lamp ob some one
ob our men!”

“It must be!” cried Hartley hopefully, “it can be nothing else.”

“Yo’ am right!”

“Turn the searchlight on to it!”

A sharp cry of joy burst from the lips of each. The distant figure of a
man was seen.

“Hurrah!” cried Hartley; “by the North Star if that isn’t one of our
men. We shall save him!”

“Golly! dat am good luck!” cried Pomp joyfully.

It was the turning of the searchlight full upon them that had caused
Barney and Clifford such a thrill of surprise as was depicted at the
close of a preceding chapter.

When the remote chance of a reunion was fully considered this could be
deemed nothing short of miraculous.

The submarine voyagers certainly had good reason to congratulate
themselves.

The submarine boat now bore down upon the two lost voyagers.

“Thank God, Barney, we are saved!” cried Clifford, joyfully; “fate is
with us!”

“Begorra, we’ll be on deck yet, be the sowl av Pat Murphy!” cried
Barney. “Shure, it’s a bit av luck fer us!”

Nearer drew the submarine boat. In a short while it loomed up near at
hand.

Then the two lost men clambered aboard.

They were quickly in the cabin, and were fairly embraced by Pomp and
Hartley.

Mutual congratulations followed, and then all was fully explained. After
both stories were told, Barney cried:

“Begorra, phwat do yez think has happened to Frank Reade, Jr.?”

“Golly, I done fink yo’ ought to know de mos’ about dat!” cried Pomp.

“Be me sowl, we left him in the cabin av the sunken ship!”

All looked at each other.

“Then he must be there yet!” said Clifford.

“Of course,” agreed Hartley. “God grant no harm has come to him!”

“I cannot see why it should,” said Clifford. “At least our best move is
to go right back there and find him. There is no doubt but that we shall
find him all right, unless——”

The same thought crossed the minds of all in that moment. They
remembered the Aurelian’s men and the opportunity they had.

If they had come upon Frank and made him a prisoner, there was no
telling what the villain Parker might do with him.

“Golly!” cried Pomp, “if dey hab done Marse Frank any harm dey bettah
say dere prayers, fo’ dey will pay fo’ it as suah as I is a bo’n
niggah.”

“That is right, Pomp,” declared Clifford. “We are all with you to a man.
It shall be so. But we will continue to hope that he is all right.”

“Yas, sah!”

At once preparations were made for resuming the search for the sunken
galleon.

It was not so very difficult to locate her.

Bearings were obtained and then the Dolphin sailed down for the spot. As
she drew nearer the reef nothing was seen of the Aurelian’s divers.

But traces of their visit were discovered.

In the sand there were spades and other tools left by them. This would
seem to be evidence that they meant to return.

“On me worrud as a gintleman,” cried Barney, “I belave they’ve done
harrum to Misther Frank.”

“Let us hope we will find him in the galleon’s cabin,” said Clifford.
“Anchor the boat, boys.”

The Dolphin was quickly set down and anchored. Then lots were drawn to
see who were to be the favored ones to visit the galleon.

It fell to Hartley and Pomp. This seemed just enough, as they had
previously remained aboard the Dolphin.

“All right,” cried Clifford. “I find no fault. Only bring Frank back
with you.”

“Golly! we done do dat if we can, yo’ bet,” cried the darky.

In a few moments they had donned their diving suits and left the
Dolphin. They crossed the intervening distance to the deck of the
galleon.

The sand had been excavated, and the hatch was open.

One moment the two explorers paused at the head of the cabin stairs.

Then Hartley said:

“Follow me, Pomp!”

“A’right, sah!”

Down the stairs they went. The sight which they met appalled them.

The floating corpses was more than Pomp could stand.

If there was one thing the darky had a horror of it was a corpse.

“Massy Lordy!” he groaned; “de debbil am down dere fo’ shuah! He done
git dis chile!”

“Nonsense!” cried Hartley, impatiently. “Come along, you black rascal!”

But no amount of persuasion could induce Pomp to enter the dead men’s
cabin.

Hartley gave up the task.

“Well,” he said, “I must go alone. Keep guard at the hatchway, then.”

“I do dat,” agreed Pomp.

Down into the cabin Hartley went. He pushed the floating bodies aside.

He passed from one part of the ship to another. There were marks of a
former visit plain enough.

Someone had entered before him.

But the object of his quest—Frank Reade, Jr.—could not be found.

There was no trace of him to be found anywhere.

It was very mysterious.

To the reader this will seem strange, as we left him securely bound and
the hatches closed by the departing divers of the Aurelian.



                              CHAPTER XII.
                          WHICH ENDS THE TALE.


Frank Reade, Jr., left bound hand and foot upon the floor of the main
cabin of the Donna Veneta, was in by no means a happy frame of mind.

He was always clear grit and never given to despair.

Yet at that moment his case looked black and hopeless enough.

He lay for some while after the departure of his captors without making
a move of any kind.

The other occupants of the cabin were respectful enough. Occasionally
one of the dead buccaneers would lazily change his position, or,
catching a current, float across the cabin.

At such times the young inventor could not avoid a chill of horror, so
ghostly and supernatural did the buccaneers look.

Some time elapsed.

It seemed an age to Frank.

He speculated upon his chances in a methodical sort of way and gave
himself up to somewhat morbid reflection.

After all, his worst fate could only be death. It must come to him some
time. Drowning was, after all, not the worst form.

Again the suicidal mania threatened him. Especially was this the case
when he reckoned the hopelessness of his position.

After a time, however, reaction was bound to set in.

Life never seemed to have a more rosy hue. It would seem a transition
into paradise to reach the upper world.

With this came a desperate sort of hope.

Why not make a supreme effort?

He could do no worse than fail. Once his mind was made up there was no
faltering.

He began work on his bonds. He writhed and twisted for some while. The
water had swollen the ropes, but it had also weakened the strands.

He rolled over and over until he reached the door of the captain’s
cabin. Here his gaze fell upon an object which gave him a thrill.

It was an ax.

It had been dropped there by one of the divers. At once Frank saw his
opportunity.

He rolled over to it in such a manner as to press his bonds against its
keen edge.

Again and again he pressed the cords against the keen blade; one by one
the strands snapped.

Finally the last one was cut; Frank experienced a thrill.

The rest was easy.

He had the use of his hands now, and with the blade of the ax he cut the
other bonds.

He scrambled to his feet a free man; for a moment he was undecided how
to act.

His impulse was to get out of the cabin of the galleon; but how could
this be done?

The hatch had been battened down by the Aurelian’s divers when they went
away. Could he hope to break it open? He could at least try.

He ascended the stairs and dealt the hatch a blow. Joy! it yielded, and
with a great effort he forced it open.

He pushed away the sand and emerged at last from the prison he had
occupied so long.

He examined his generator.

There were chemicals enough in it to last full forty-eight hours longer.

“Perhaps by that time they will return for me,” he reflected. “At least
I will cling to hope.”

He looked about him.

There was no sign of the submarine boat or of the Aurelian’s men in the
vicinity. He was in a quandary as to what to do.

While in this state of doubt he wandered away from the spot for some
ways.

Again a strange drowsiness came upon him. He could not help but yield to
it.

He waited for a time, fighting off the sensation. Then selecting a
secluded spot under the reef, he sank down.

In a few moments he was sound asleep. The water surged about his
prostrate form, little fishes came and peered in at the windows of his
helmet.

But nothing of this kind woke him. How long he slept he knew not.

But when he woke up all was a glare of light about him. He was some
while collecting his scattered senses.

Then he arose and looked about him. His whole being thrilled.

“Saved!” he gasped.

It was no dream. Not fifty yards distant was the submarine boat,
Dolphin.

Frank at once started for it. He reached its side and clambered over the
rail.

He entered the vestibule and exhausted it of water. Then he removed his
helmet and stepped into the cabin.

The effect was startling.

Clifford sat by a table looking over some maps. Barney was engaged in
the pilot-house.

Clifford started up with a gasping cry:

“Heaven preserve us!” he shouted, “it is Frank Reade, Jr.”

Frank was wildly embraced by both.

“Be the sowl av Pat Murphy s cow, I’m happy onct more,” cried Barney,
turning somersaults across the cabin.

“But—how on earth did you get here, Frank!” cried Clifford, “we had
given you up.”

“I have had quite an experience,” said Frank, with a smile, “but where
are the others?”

“They are in the cabin of the galleon.”

“But—what has become of the Aurelian?”

“Driven away by a gale. The coast is clear. Before she can return we can
recover the Donna Veneta’s treasure and be off.”

“You are right.”

Then Frank told his story.

Clifford was more than delighted when he learned of the amount of the
galleon’s treasure.

“We will cheat old Parker out of it after all!” he cried wildly. “That
is to pay the old scamp for his rascality.”

“You are right,” said Frank, and began to put on his helmet.

“Where are you going?”

“I am going down to join Hartley and Pomp, and help them get the chests
of gold out.”

“Good! What assistance can we be?”

“Keep watch for us and manipulate the searchlight to our advantage.”

“I will do that!”

Frank now left the Dolphin. He slid over the rail and started for the
galleon’s hatch.

Reaching it, he began to descend, but before he reached the bottom of
the staircase a form slid forward and embraced him.

“Massy Lordy, if it ain’ Marse Frank. Whereber you cum from, sah?”

It was Pomp.

It is useless to dwell upon that reunion. It was a happy meeting.

It did not take long for them to exchange experiences. Then Hartley
said:

“So the Aurelian was driven away by the hurricane, eh? Well, she will
return, you may be sure. Old Gilbert Parker is a genuine bulldog.”

“Let him return,” said Frank. “We will deal with him next time as he
deserves. It is true that he would have murdered the whole of us.”

“Golly, dat am right!” cried Pomp. “I done fink we bettah get dat gold
abo’d de Dolphin an’ start fo’ home.”

“That is just what we will do,” agreed Frank.

So they went to work at once hoisting the chests of gold out of the
Donna Veneta’s hold.

In a short while they were all piled up on the sands outside.

Then they were easily transported aboard the Dolphin. The galleon’s
hatch was then closed, and it was left with its ghastly occupants to
remain forever buried at the bottom of the Honduras Gulf.

There seemed no reason now for lingering in the vicinity.

But Frank had some curiosity to know what was the fate of the Aurelian,
so he sent the Dolphin away toward the Miller’s Cay in quest of her.

The hurricane had passed, yet Frank did not deem it advisable to go to
the surface. So the Dolphin pursued her way under water.

When at a point which Hartley declared was not two miles from the Cay,
it was decided to go to the surface.

Up went the Dolphin; then as she rose above the waves every eye scanned
the watery waste for a sail.

No sail was in sight, but not half a mile to windward a wreck drifted.

“Mercy on us!” cried Frank. “Can it be the Aurelian?”

The submarine boat ran nearer to the wreck. Then upon the stern was read
the name “Aurelian.”

She was a shattered, water-logged hulk.

Not a sign of her crew was visible; she was hailed repeatedly, but no
answer came back. Even as the voyagers were gazing at her she took a
sudden plunge and went down.

After the last ripples had died away upon the spot where she
disappeared, Frank turned the Dolphin’s head homeward.

Nothing was ever seen again of Gilbert Parker, of Captain Warren, or any
of the Aurelian’s crew. It was safe to say that all had met a deserving
fate in the waters of the Gulf of Honduras.

Homeward bound was the Dolphin with her Spanish gold.

Readestown was safely reached at last. Then followed a division of the
treasure. It made all rich enough.

Clifford and Hartley returned to their homes happy men. Frank Reade,
Jr., went back to his shops and his plans.

Barney and Pomp resumed their duties as of yore, waiting for the moment
when Frank should be impelled to go off on another cruise to some
wonderful part of the world. Until such time we will bid the reader a
kind adieu.


                                THE END.

Read “THE LOST CARAVAN; OR, FRANK READE, JR., ON THE STAKED PLAINS,”
which will be the next number (75) of “Frank Reade Weekly Magazine.”

SPECIAL NOTICE: All back numbers of this weekly are always in print. If
you cannot obtain them from any newsdealer, send the price in money or
postage stamps by mail to FRANK TOUSEY, PUBLISHER, 24 UNION SQUARE, NEW
YORK, and you will receive the copies you order by return mail.

------------------------------------------------------------------------



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                  *       *       *       *       *

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                                  MESMERISM.

  No. 81. HOW TO MESMERIZE.—Containing the most approved methods of
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        published.

  No. 56. HOW TO BECOME AN ENGINEER.—Containing full instructions how
        to proceed in order to become a locomotive engineer; also
        directions for building a model locomotive; together with a
        full description of everything an engineer should know.

  No. 57. HOW TO MAKE MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS.—Full directions how to make
        a Banjo, Violin, Zither, Æolian Harp. Xylophone and other
        musical instruments; together with a brief description of
        nearly every musical instrument used in ancient or modern
        times. Profusely illustrated. By Algernon S. Fitzgerald, for
        twenty years bandmaster of the Royal Bengal Marines.

  No. 59. HOW TO MAKE A MAGIC LANTERN.—Containing a description of the
        lantern, together with its history and invention. Also full
        directions for its use and for painting slides. Handsomely
        illustrated. By John Allen.

  No. 71. HOW TO DO MECHANICAL TRICKS.—Containing complete
        instructions for performing over sixty Mechanical Tricks. By
        A. Anderson. Fully illustrated.

                               LETTER WRITING.

  No. 11. HOW TO WRITE LOVE-LETTERS.—A most complete little book,
        containing full directions for writing love-letters, and when
        to use them, giving specimen letters for young and old.

  No. 12. HOW TO WRITE LETTERS TO LADIES.—Giving complete instructions
        for writing letters to ladies on all subjects; also letters of
        introduction, notes and requests.

  No. 24. HOW TO WRITE LETTERS TO GENTLEMEN.—Containing full
        directions for writing to gentlemen on all subjects; also
        giving sample letters for instruction.

  No. 53. HOW TO WRITE LETTERS.—A wonderful little book, telling you
        how to write to your sweetheart, your father, mother, sister,
        brother, employer; and, in fact, everybody and anybody you
        wish to write to. Every young man and every young lady in the
        land should have this book.

  No. 74. HOW TO WRITE LETTERS CORRECTLY.—Containing full instructions
        for writing letters on almost any subject; also rules for
        punctuation and composition, with specimen letters.

                    (Continued on page 3 of cover.)



                             “HAPPY DAYS,”


           The Best Illustrated Weekly Story Paper Published.

                          ISSUED EVERY FRIDAY.

“HAPPY DAYS” is a large 16-page paper containing Interesting Stories,
Poems, Sketches, Comic Stories, Jokes, Answers to Correspondents, and
many other bright features. Its Authors and Artists have a national
reputation. No amount of money is spared to make this weekly the best
published.

             A New Story Begins Every Week in “Happy Days.”

                      OUT TO-DAY!      OUT TO-DAY!

                           CAUGHT IN THE WAR;

                                  OR,

                      A Philadelphia Boy in Corea.

                 (A STORY OF THE JAPANESE-RUSSIAN WAR.)

                            By J.G. BRADLEY

       Begins in No. 495 of “HAPPY DAYS,” Issued March 25, 1904.

                             PRICE 5 CENTS.

 For Sale by All Newsdealers, or Will Be Sent to Any Address on Receipt
                               of Price by
  FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher,      ❧      ❧      24 Union Square, New York



                             WORK AND WIN.

                       The Best Weekly Published.

                  ALL THE NUMBERS ARE ALWAYS IN PRINT.

                  READ ONE AND YOU WILL READ THEM ALL.

                             LATEST ISSUES:

  178 Fred Fearnot’s Great Struggle; or, Downing a Senator.

  179 Fred Fearnot’s Jubilee; or, New Era’s Greatest Day.

  180 Fred Fearnot and Samson; or, “Who Runs This Town?”

  181 Fred Fearnot and the Rioters; or, Backing Up the Sheriff.

  182 Fred Fearnot and the Stage Robber; or, His Chase for a Stolen
        Diamond.

  183 Fred Fearnot at Cripple Creek; or, The Masked Fiends of the
        Mines.

  184 Fred Fearnot and the Vigilantes; or, Up Against the Wrong Man.

  185 Fred Fearnot in New Mexico; or, Saved by Terry Olcott.

  186 Fred Fearnot in Arkansas; or, The Queerest of All Adventures.

  187 Fred Fearnot in Montana; or, The Dispute at Rocky Hill.

  188 Fred Fearnot and the Mayor; or, The Trouble at Snapping Shoals.

  189 Fred Fearnot’s Big Hunt; or, Camping on the Columbia River.

  190 Fred Fearnot’s Hard Experience; or, Roughing it at Red Gulch.

  191 Fred Fearnot Stranded; or, How Terry Olcott Lost the Money.

  192 Fred Fearnot In the Mountains; or, Held at Bay by Bandits.

  193 Fred Fearnot’s Terrible Risk; or, Terry Olcott’s Reckless
        Venture.

  194 Fred Fearnot’s Last Card; or, The Game that Saved His Life.

  195 Fred Fearnot and the Professor; or, The Man Who Knew It All.

  196 Fred Fearnot’s Big Scoop; or, Beating a Thousand Rivals.

  197 Fred Fearnot and the Raiders; or, Fighting for His Belt.

  198 Fred Fearnot’s Great Risk; or, One Chance in a Thousand.

  199 Fred Fearnot as a Sleuth; or, Running Down a Slick Villain.

  200 Fred Fearnot’s New Deal; or, Working for a Banker.

  201 Fred Fearnot in Dakota; or, The Little Combination Ranch.

  202 Fred Fearnot and the Road Agents; or, Terry Olcott’s Cool Nerve.

  203 Fred Fearnot and the Amazon; or, The Wild Woman of the Plains.

  204 Fred Fearnot’s Training School; or, How to Make a Living.

  205 Fred Fearnot and the Stranger; or, The Long Man who was Short.

  206 Fred Fearnot and the Old Trapper; or, Searching for a Lost
        Cavern.

  207 Fred Fearnot in Colorado; or, Running a Sheep Ranch.

  208 Fred Fearnot at the Ball; or, The Girl in the Green Mask.

  209 Fred Fearnot and the Duellist; or, The Man Who Wanted to Fight.

  210 Fred Fearnot on the Stump; or, Backing an Old Veteran.

  211 Fred Fearnot’s New Trouble; or, Up Against a Monopoly.

  212 Fred Fearnot as Marshal; or, Commanding the Peace.

  213 Fred Fearnot and “Wally”; or, The Good Natured Bully of Badger.

  214 Fred Fearnot and the Miners; or, The Trouble At Coppertown.

  215 Fred Fearnot and the “Blind Tigers”: or, More Ways Than One.

  216 Fred Fearnot and the Hindoo; or, The Wonderful Juggler at
        Coppertown.

  217 Fred Fearnot Snow Bound; or, Fun with Pericles Smith.

  218 Fred Fearnot’s Great Fire Fight; or, Rescuing a Prairie School.

  219 Fred Fearnot In New Orleans; or, Up Against the Mafia.

  220 Fred Fearnot and the Haunted House; or, Unraveling a Great
        Mystery.

  221 Fred Fearnot on the Mississippi; or, The Blackleg’s Murderous
        Plot.

  222 Fred Fearnot’s Wolf Hunt; or, A Battle for Life in the Dark.

  223 Fred Fearnot and the “Greaser”; or, The Fight to Death with
        Lariats.

  224 Fred Fearnot In Mexico; or, Fighting the Revolutionists.

  225 Fred Fearnot’s Daring Bluff; or, The Nerve that Saved His Life.

  226 Fred Fearnot and the Grave Digger; or, The Mystery of a
        Cemetery.

  227 Fred Fearnot’s Wall Street Deal; or, Between the Bulls and the
        Bears.

  228 Fred Fearnot and “Mr. Jones”; or, The Insurance Man in Trouble.

  229 Fred Fearnot’s Big Gift; or, A Week at Old Avon.

  230 Fred Fearnot and the “Witch”; or, Exposing an Old Fraud.

  231 Fred Fearnot’s Birthday; or, A Big Time at New Era.

  232 Fred Fearnot and the Sioux Chief; or, Searching for a Lost Girl.

  233 Fred Fearnot’s Mortal Enemy; or, The Man on the Black Horse.

  234 Fred Fearnot at Canyon Castle; or, Entertaining His Friends.

  235 Fred Fearnot and the Comanche; or, Teaching a Redskin a Lesson.

  236 Fred Fearnot Suspected; or, Trailed by a Treasury Sleuth.

  237 Fred Fearnot and the Promoter; or, Breaking Up a Big Scheme.

  238 Fred Fearnot and “Old Grizzly”; or, The Man Who Didn’t Know.

  239 Fred Fearnot’s Rough Riders; or, Driving Out the Squatters.

  240 Fred Fearnot and the Black Fiend; or, Putting Down a Riot.

  241 Fred Fearnot in Tennessee; or, The Demon of the Mountains.

  242 Fred Fearnot and the “Terror”; or, Calling Down a Bad Man.

  243 Fred Fearnot in West Virginia; or, Helping the Revenue Agents.

  244 Fred Fearnot and His Athletes; or, A Great Charity Tour.

  245 Fred Fearnot’s Strange Adventure; or, The Queer Old Man of the
        Mountain.

  246 Fred Fearnot and the League; or, Up Against a Bad Lot.

  247 Fred Fearnot’s Wonderful Race; or, Beating a Horse on Foot.

  248 Fred Fearnot and the Wrestler; or, Throwing a Great Champion.

  249 Fred Fearnot and the Bankrupt; or, Ferreting Out a Fraud.

  250 Fred Fearnot as a Redskin; or, Trailing a Captured Girl.

  251 Fred Fearnot and the “Greenhorn”; or, Fooled for Once in His
        Life.

  252 Fred Fearnot and the Bloodhounds; or, Tracked by Mistake.

  253 Fred Fearnot’s Boy Scouts; or, Hot Times in the Rockies.

  254 Fred Fearnot and the Waif of Wall Street; or, A Smart Boy
        Broker.

  255 Fred Fearnot’s Buffalo Hunt; or, The Gamest Boy in the West.

  256 Fred Fearnot and the Mill Boy; or, A Desperate Dash for Life.

  257 Fred Fearnot’s Great Trotting Match; or, Beating the Record.

  258 Fred Fearnot and the Hidden Marksman; or, The Mystery of Thunder
        Mountain.

  259 Fred Fearnot’s Boy Champion; or, Fighting for His Rights.

  260 Fred Fearnot and the Money King; or, A Big Deal in Wall Street.

  261 Fred Fearnot’s Gold Hunt; or, The Boy Trappers of Goose Lake.

  262 Fred Fearnot and the Ranch Boy; or, Lively Times with the
        Broncho Busters.

  263 Fred Fearnot after the Sharpers; or, Exposing a Desperate Game.

  264 Fred Fearnot and the Firebugs; or, Saving a City.

  265 Fred Fearnot In the Lumber Camps; or, Hustling in the Backwoods.

  266 Fred Fearnot and the Orphan; or, The Luck of a Plucky Boy.

  267 Fred Fearnot at Forty Mile Creek; or, Knocking About in the
        West.

  268 Fred Fearnot and the Boy Speculator; or, From a Dollar to a
        Million.

  269 Fred Fearnot’s Canoe Club; or, A Trip on the Mississippi.

  270 Fred Fearnot and the Errand Boy; or, Bound to Make Money.

  271 Fred Fearnot’s Cowboy Guide; or, The Perils of Death Valley.

  272 Fred Fearnot and the Sheep Herders; or, Trapping the Ranch
        Robbers.

  273 Fred Fearnot on the Stage; or, Before the Footlights for
        Charity.

  274 Fred Fearnot and the Masked Band; or, The Fate of the Mountain
        Express.

  275 Fred Fearnot’s Trip to Frisco; or, Trapping the Chinese Opium
        Smugglers.

  276 Fred Fearnot and the Widow’s Son; or, The Worst Boy in New York.

 For Sale by All Newsdealers, or will be Sent to Any Address on Receipt
                     of Price, 5 Cents per Copy, by

      FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher,            24 Union Square, New York

IF YOU WANT ANY BACK NUMBERS

of our Libraries and cannot procure them from newsdealers, they can be
obtained from this office direct. Cut out and fill in the following
Order Blank and send it to us with the price of the books you want and
we will send them to you by return mail. POSTAGE STAMPS TAKEN THE SAME
AS MONEY.

 FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher, 24 Union Square, New York.          .... 190

 DEAR SIR—Enclosed find .... cents for which please send me:

 .... copies of WORK AND WIN, Nos....................................
 .... copies of WILD WEST WEEKLY, Nos................................
 .... copies of FRANK READE WEEKLY, Nos..............................
 .... copies of PLUCK AND LUCK, Nos..................................
 .... copies of SECRET SERVICE, Nos..................................
 .... copies of THE LIBERTY BOYS OF ‘76, Nos.........................
 .... copies of Ten-Cent Hand Books, Nos.............................

 Name............. Street and No. .......... Town ........ State ....

[Illustration: PLUCK AND LUCK]



                            PLUCK AND LUCK.

          CONTAINS ALL SORTS OF STORIES. EVERY STORY COMPLETE.

    32 PAGES.       BEAUTIFULLY COLORED COVERS.       PRICE 5 CENTS.

                             LATEST ISSUES:

  231 Jack Wright and His Electric Air Schooner; or, The Mystery of a
        Magic Mine. By “Noname.”

  232 Philadelphia Phil; or, From a Bootblack to a Merchant. By Howard
        Austin.

  233 Custer’s Last Shot; or, The Boy Trailer of the Little Horn. By
        An Old Scout.

  234 The Rival Rangers; or, The Sons of Freedom. By Gen. Jas. A.
        Gordon.

  235 Old Sixty-Nine; or, The Prince of Engineers. By Jas. C. Merritt.

  236 Among the Fire-Worshippers; or, Two New York Boys in Mexico. By
        Howard Austin.

  237 Jack Wright and his Electric Sea Motor; or, The Search for a
        Drifting Wreck. By “Noname.”

  238 Twenty Years on an Island; or, The Story of a Castaway. By Capt.
        Thos. H. Wilson.

  239 Colorado Carl; or, The King of the Saddle. By An Old Scout.

  240 Hook and Ladder Jack, the Daring Young Fireman. By Ex-Fire Chief
        Warden.

  241 Ice-Bound; or, Among the Floes. By Berton Bertrew.

  242 Jack Wright and His Ocean Sleuth-Hound; or, Tracking an
        Under-Water Treasure. By “Noname.”

  243 The Fatal Glass; or, The Traps and Snares of New York. A True
        Temperance Story. By Jno. B. Dowd.

  244 The Maniac Engineer; or, A Life’s Mystery. By Jas. C. Merritt.

  245 Jack Wright and His Electric Locomotive; or, The Lost Mine of
        Death Valley. By “Noname.”

  246 The Ten Boy Scouts. A Story of the Wild West. By An Old Scout.

  247 Young Hickory, the Spy; or, Man, Woman, or Boy. By Gen’l Jas. A.
        Gordon.

  248 Dick Bangle, the Boy Actor. By N.S. Wood (The Young American
        Actor).

  249 A New York Boy In the Soudan; or, The Mahdi’s Slave. By Howard
        Austin.

  250 Jack Wright and His Electric Balloon Ship; or, 30,000 Leagues
        Above the Earth. By “Noname.”

  251 The Game-Cock of Deadwood. A Story of the Wild Northwest. By
        Jas. C. Merritt.

  252 Harry Hook, the Boy Fireman of No. 1; or, Always at His Post. By
        Ex-Fire Chief Warden.

  253 The Waifs of New York. By N. S. Woods (The Young American
        Actor).

  254 Jack Wright and His Dandy of the Deep; or, Driven Afloat in the
        Sea of Fire. By “Noname.”

  255 In the Sea of Ice; or, The Perils of a Boy Whaler. By Berton
        Bertrew.

  256 Mad Anthony Wayne, the Hero of Stony Point. By Gen’l. Jas. A.
        Gordon.

  257 The Arkansas Scout; or, Fighting the Redskins. By An Old Scout.

  258 Jack Wright’s Demon of the Plains; or, Wild Adventures Among the
        Cowboys.

  259 The Merry Ten; or, The Shadows of a Social Club. By Jno. B.
        Dowd.

  260 Dan Driver, the Boy Engineer of the Mountain Express; or,
        Railroading on the Denver and Rio Grande.

  261 Silver Sam of Santa Fe; or, The Lions’ Treasure Cave. By An Old
        Scout.

  262 Jack Wright and His Electric Torpedo Ram; or, The Sunken City of
        the Atlantic. By “Noname.”

  263 The Rival Schools; or, Fighting for the Championship. By Allyn
        Draper.

  264 Jack Reef, the Boy Captain; or, Adventures on the Ocean. By
        Capt. Thos. H. Wilson.

  265 A Boy in Wall Street; or, Dick Hatch, the Young Broker. By H. K.
        Shackleford.

  266 Jack Wright and his Iron-Clad Air Motor; or, Searching for a
        Lost Explorer. By “Noname.”

  267 The Rival Base Ball Clubs; or, The Champions of Columbia
        Academy. By Allyn Draper.

  268 The Boy Cattle King; or, Frank Fordham’s Wild West Ranch. By an
        Old Scout.

  269 Wide Awake Will, The Plucky Boy Fireman of No. 3; or, Fighting
        the Flames for Fame and Fortune. By Ex-Fire Chief Warden.

  270 Jack Wright and His Electric Tricycle; or, Fighting the
        Stranglers of the Crimson Desert. By “Noname.”

  271 The Orphans of New York. A Pathetic Story of a Great City. By N.
        S. Wood (the Young American Actor).

  272 Sitting Bull’s Last Shot; or, The Vengeance of an Indian
        Policeman. By Pawnee Bill.

  273 The Haunted House on the Harlem; or, The Mystery of a Missing
        Man. By Howard Austin.

  274 Jack Wright and His Ocean Plunger; or, The Harpoon Hunters of
        the Arctic. By “Noname.”

  275 Claim 33; or, The Boys of the Mountain. By Jas. C. Merritt.

  276 The Road to Ruin; or, The Snares and Temptations of New York. By
        Jno. B. Dowd.

  277 A Spy at 16; or, Fighting for Washington and Liberty. By Gen’l
        Jas. A. Gordon.

  278 Jack Wright’s Flying Torpedo; or, The Black Demons of Dismal
        Swamp. By “Noname.”

  279 High Ladder Harry, The Young Fireman of Freeport; or, Always at
        the Top. By Ex-Fire Chief Warden.

  280 100 Chests of Gold; or, The Aztecs’ Buried Secret. By Richard R.
        Montgomery.

  281 Pat Malloy; or, An Irish Boy’s Pluck and Luck. By Allyn Draper.

  282 Jack Wright and His Electric Sea Ghost; or, A Strange Under
        Water Journey. By “Noname.”

  283 Sixty Mile Sam; or, Bound to be on Time. By Jas. C. Merritt.

  284 83 Degrees North Latitude; or, the Handwriting in the Iceberg.
        By Howard Austin.

  285 Joe, The Actor’s Boy; or, Famous at Fourteen. By N. S. Wood (the
        Young American Actor.)

  286 Dead For 5 Years; or, The Mystery of a Madhouse. By Allyn
        Draper.

  287 Broker Bob; or, The Youngest Operator in Wall Street. By H. K.
        Shackleford.

  288 Boy Pards; or, Making a Home on the Border. By An Old Scout.

  289 The Twenty Doctors; or, the Mystery of the Coast. By Capt. Thos.
        H. Wilson.

  290 The Boy Cavalry Scout; or, Life in the Saddle. By Gen’l. Jas. A.
        Gordon.

  291 The Boy Firemen; or, “Stand by the Machine.” By Ex-Fire Chief
        Warden.

  292 Rob, the Runaway; or, From Office Boy to Partner. By Allyn
        Draper.

  293 The Shattered Glass; or, A Country Boy in New York. A True
        Temperance Story. By Jno. B. Dowd.

  294 Lightning Lew, the Boy Scout; or, Perils in the West. By Gen’l.
        Jas. A. Gordon.

  295 The Gray House on the Rock; or, The Ghosts of Ballentyne Hall.
        By Jas. C. Merritt.

  296 A Poor Boy’s Fight; or, The Hero of the School. By Howard
        Austin.

  297 Captain Jack Tempest; or, The Prince of the Sea. By Capt. Thos.
        H. Wilson.

  298 Billy Button, the Young Clown and Bareback Rider. By Berton
        Bertrew.

  299 An Engineer at 16; or, The Prince of the Lightning Express. By
        Jas. C. Merritt.

  300 To the North Pole in a Balloon. By Berton Betrew.

  301 Kit Carson’s Little Scout; or, The Renegade’s Doom. By An Old
        Scout.

  302 From the Street; or, The Fortunes of a Bootblack. By N. S. Wood
        (the Young American Actor).

  303 Old Putnam’s Pet; or, The Young Patriot Spy. A Story of the
        Revolution. By Gen. Jas. A. Gordon.

  304 The Boy Speculators of Brookton; or, Millionaires at Nineteen.
        By Allyn Draper.

 For Sale by All Newsdealers, or will be Sent to Any Address on Receipt
                     of Price, 5 Cents per Copy, by

      FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher,            24 Union Square, New York

IF YOU WANT ANY BACK NUMBERS

of our Libraries and cannot procure them from newsdealers, they can be
obtained from this office direct. Cut out and fill in the following
Order Blank and send it to us with the price of the books you want and
we will send them to you by return mail. POSTAGE STAMPS TAKEN THE SAME
AS MONEY.

 FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher, 24 Union Square, New York.          .... 190

 DEAR SIR—Enclosed find .... cents for which please send me:

 .... copies of WORK AND WIN, Nos....................................
 .... copies of WILD WEST WEEKLY, Nos................................
 .... copies of FRANK READE WEEKLY, Nos..............................
 .... copies of PLUCK AND LUCK, Nos..................................
 .... copies of SECRET SERVICE, Nos..................................
 .... copies of THE LIBERTY BOYS OF ‘76, Nos.........................
 .... copies of Ten-Cent Hand Books, Nos.............................

 Name............. Street and No. .......... Town ........ State ....



                        THE LIBERTY BOYS OF ‘76.

    A Weekly Magazine containing Stories of the American Revolution.

                            By HARRY MOORE.

These stories are based on actual facts and give a faithful account of
the exciting adventures of a brave band of American youths who were
always ready and willing to imperil their lives for the sake of helping
along the gallant cause of Independence. Every number will consist of 32
large pages of reading matter, bound in a beautiful colored cover.

                             LATEST ISSUES:

  93 The Liberty Boys’ Dare; or, Backing the British Down.

  94 The Liberty Boys’ Best Blows; or, Beating the British at
        Bennington.

  95 The Liberty Boys in New Jersey; or, Boxing the Ears of the
        British Lion.

  96 The Liberty Boys’ Daring; or, Not Afraid of Anything.

  97 The Liberty Boys’ Long March; or, The Move that Puzzled the
        British.

  98 The Liberty Boys’ Bold Front; or, Hot Times on Harlem Heights.

  99 The Liberty Boys in New York; or, Helping to Hold the Great City.

  100 The Liberty Boys’ Big Risk; or, Ready to Take Chances.

  101 The Liberty Boys’ Drag-Net; or, Hauling the Redcoats In.

  102 The Liberty Boys’ Lightning Work; or, Too Fast for the British.

  103 The Liberty Boys’ Lucky Blunder; or, The Mistake that Helped
        Them.

  104 The Liberty Boys’ Shrewd Trick; or, Springing a Big Surprise.

  105 The Liberty Boys’ Cunning; or, Outwitting the Enemy.

  106 The Liberty Boys’ “Big Hit”; or, Knocking the Redcoats Out.

  107 The Liberty Boys “Wild Irishman”; or, A Lively Lad from Dublin.

  108 The Liberty Boys’ Surprise; or, Not Just What They Were Looking
        For.

  109 The Liberty Boys’ Treasure; or, A Lucky Find.

  110 The Liberty Boys in Trouble; or, A Bad Run of Luck.

  111 The Liberty Boys’ Jubilee; or, A Great Day for the Great Cause.

  112 The Liberty Boys Cornered; or, “Which Way Shall We Turn?”

  113 The Liberty Boys at Valley Forge; or, Enduring Terrible
        Hardships.

  114 The Liberty Boys Missing; or, Lost in the Swamps.

  115 The Liberty Boys’ Wager, And How They Won It.

  116 The Liberty Boys Deceived; or, Tricked but Not Beaten.

  117 The Liberty Boys and the Dwarf; or, A Dangerous Enemy.

  118 The Liberty Boys’ Dead Shots; or, The Deadly Twelve.

  119 The Liberty Boys’ League; or, The Country Boys Who Helped.

  120 The Liberty Boys’ Neatest Trick; or, How the Redcoats were
        Fooled.

  121 The Liberty Boys Stranded; or, Afoot in the Enemy’s Country.

  122 The Liberty Boys in the Saddle; or, Lively Work for Liberty’s
        Cause.

  123 The Liberty Boys’ Bonanza; or, Taking Toll from the Tories.

  124 The Liberty Boys at Saratoga; or, The Surrender of Burgoyne.

  125 The Liberty Boys and “Old Put.”; or, The Escape at Horse-neck.

  126 The Liberty Boys Bugle Call; or, The Plot to Poison Washington.

  127 The Liberty Boys and “Queen Esther”; or, The Wyoming Valley
        Massacre.

  128 The Liberty Boys’ Horse Guard; or, On the High Hills of Santee.

  129 The Liberty Boys and Aaron Burr; or, Battling for Independence.

  130 The Liberty Boys and the “Swamp Fox”; or, Helping Marion.

  131 The Liberty Boys and Ethan Allen; or, Old and Young Veterans.

  132 The Liberty Boys and the King’s Spy; or, Diamond Cut Diamond.

  133 The Liberty Boys’ Bayonet Charge; or, The Siege of Yorktown.

  134 The Liberty Boys and Paul Jones; or, The Martyrs of the Prison
        Ships.

  135 The Liberty Boys at Bowling Green; or, Smashing the King’s
        Statue.

  136 The Liberty Boys and Nathan Hale; or, The Brave Patriot Spy.

  137 The Liberty Boys’ “Minute Men”; or, The Battle of the Cow Pens.

  138 The Liberty Boys and the Traitor; or, How They Handled Him.

  139 The Liberty Boys at Yellow Creek; or, Routing the Redcoats.

  140 The Liberty Boys and General Greene; or, Chasing Cornwallis.

  141 The Liberty Boys in Richmond; or, Fighting Traitor Arnold.

  142 The Liberty Boys and the Terrible Tory; or, Beating a Bad Man.

  143 The Liberty Boys’ Sword-Fight; or, Winning with the Enemy’s
        Weapons.

  144 The Liberty Boys in Georgia; or, Lively Times Down South.

  145 The Liberty Boys’ Greatest Triumph; or, The March to Victory.

  146 The Liberty Boys and the Quaker Spy; or, Two of a Kind.

  147 The Liberty Boys in Florida; or, Fighting Prevost’s Army.

  148 The Liberty Boys’ Last Chance; or, Making the Best of It.

  149 The Liberty Boys’ Sharpshooters; or, The Battle of the Kegs.

  150 The Liberty Boys on Guard; or, Watching the Enemy.

  151 The Liberty Boys’ Strange Guide; or, the Mysterious Maiden.

  152 The Liberty Boys in the Mountains; or, Among Rough People.

  153 The Liberty Boys’ Retreat; or, in the Shades of Death.

  154 The Liberty Boys and the Fire Fiend; or, A New Kind of Battle.

  155 The Liberty Boys in Quakertown; or, Making Things Lively in
        Philadelphia.

  156 The Liberty Boys and the Gypsies; or, A Wonderful Surprise.

  157 The Liberty Boys’ Flying Artillery; or, “Liberty or Death.”

  158 The Liberty Boys Against the Red Demons; or, Fighting the Indian
        Raiders.

  159 The Liberty Boys’ Gunners; or, The Bombardment of Monmouth.

  160 The Liberty Boys and Lafayette; or, Helping the Young French
        General.

  161 The Liberty Boys’ Grit; or, The Bravest of the Brave.

  162 The Liberty Boys at West Point; or, Helping to Watch the
        Redcoats.

  163 The Liberty Boys’ Terrible Tussle; or, Fighting to a Finish.

  164 The Liberty Boys and “Light Horse Harry”; or, Chasing the
        British Dragoons.

  165 The Liberty Boys in Camp; or, Working for Washington.

  166 The Liberty Boys and Mute Mart; or, The Deaf and Dumb Spy.

  167 The Liberty Boys At Trenton; or, The Greatest Christmas ever
        Known.

  168 The Liberty Boys and General Gates; or, The Disaster at Camden.

  169 The Liberty Boys at Brandywine; or, Fighting Fiercely for
        Freedom.

  170 The Liberty Boys’ Hot Campaign; or, The Warmest Work on Record.

 For Sale by All Newsdealers, or will be Sent to Any Address on Receipt
                     of Price, 5 Cents per Copy, by

      FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher,            24 Union Square, New York

IF YOU WANT ANY BACK NUMBERS

of our Libraries and cannot procure them from newsdealers, they can be
obtained from this office direct. Cut out and fill in the following
Order Blank and send it to us with the price of the books you want and
we will send them to you by return mail. POSTAGE STAMPS TAKEN THE SAME
AS MONEY.

 FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher, 24 Union Square, New York.          .... 190

 DEAR SIR—Enclosed find .... cents for which please send me:

 .... copies of WORK AND WIN, Nos....................................
 .... copies of WILD WEST WEEKLY, Nos................................
 .... copies of FRANK READE WEEKLY, Nos..............................
 .... copies of PLUCK AND LUCK, Nos..................................
 .... copies of SECRET SERVICE, Nos..................................
 .... copies of THE LIBERTY BOYS OF ‘76, Nos.........................
 .... copies of Ten-Cent Hand Books, Nos.............................

 Name............. Street and No. .......... Town ........ State ....

                                  THE STAGE.

  No. 41. THE BOYS OF NEW YORK END MEN’S JOKE BOOK.—Containing a great
        variety of the latest jokes used by the most famous end men.
        No amateur minstrels is complete without this wonderful little
        book.

  No. 42. THE BOYS OF NEW YORK STUMP SPEAKER.—Containing a varied
        assortment of stump speeches, Negro, Dutch and Irish. Also end
        men’s jokes. Just the thing for home amusement and amateur
        shows.

  No. 45. THE BOYS OF NEW YORK MINSTREL GUIDE AND JOKE BOOK.—Something
        new and very instructive. Every boy should obtain this book,
        as it contains full instructions for organizing an amateur
        minstrel troupe.

  No. 65. MULDOON’S JOKES.—This is one of the most original joke books
        ever published, and it is brimful of wit and humor. It
        contains a large collection of songs, jokes, conundrums, etc.,
        of Terrence Muldoon, the great wit, humorist, and practical
        joker of the day. Every boy who can enjoy a good substantial
        joke should obtain a copy immediately.

  No. 79. HOW TO BECOME AN ACTOR.—Containing complete instructions how
        to make up for various characters on the stage; together with
        the duties of the Stage Manager, Prompter, Scenic Artist and
        Property Man. By a prominent Stage Manager.

  No. 80. GUS WILLIAMS’ JOKE BOOK.—Containing the latest jokes,
        anecdotes and funny stories of this world-renowned and ever
        popular German comedian. Sixty-four pages; handsome colored
        cover containing a half-tone photo of the author.

                                HOUSEKEEPING.

  No. 16. HOW TO KEEP A WINDOW GARDEN.—Containing full instructions
        for constructing a window garden either in town or country,
        and the most approved methods for raising beautiful flowers at
        home. The most complete book of the kind ever published.

  No. 30. HOW TO COOK.—One of the most instructive books on cooking
        ever published. It contains recipes for cooking meats, fish,
        game, and oysters; also pies, puddings, cakes and all kinds of
        pastry, and a grand collection of recipes by one of our most
        popular cooks.

  No. 37. HOW TO KEEP HOUSE.—It contains information for everybody,
        boys, girls, men and women; it will teach you how to make
        almost anything around the house, such as parlor ornaments,
        brackets, cements, Æolian harps, and bird lime for catching
        birds.

                                 ELECTRICAL.

  No. 46. HOW TO MAKE AND USE ELECTRICITY.—A description of the
        wonderful uses of electricity and electro magnetism; together
        with full instructions for making Electric Toys, Batteries,
        etc. By George Trebel, A. M., M. D. Containing over fifty
        illustrations.

  No. 64. HOW TO MAKE ELECTRICAL MACHINES.—Containing full directions
        for making electrical machines, induction coils, dynamos, and
        many novel toys to be worked by electricity. By R. A. R.
        Bennett. Fully illustrated.

  No. 67. HOW TO DO ELECTRICAL TRICKS.—Containing a large collection
        of instructive and highly amusing electrical tricks, together
        with illustrations. By A. Anderson.

                                ENTERTAINMENT.

  No. 9. HOW TO BECOME A VENTRILOQUIST.—By Harry Kennedy. The secret
        given away. Every intelligent boy reading this book of
        instructions, by a practical professor (delighting multitudes
        every night with his wonderful imitations), can master the
        art, and create any amount of fun for himself and friends. It
        is the greatest book ever published, and there’s millions (of
        fun) in it.

  No. 20. HOW TO ENTERTAIN AN EVENING PARTY.—A very valuable little
        book just published. A complete compendium of games, sports,
        card diversions, comic recitations, etc., suitable for parlor
        or drawing-room entertainment. It contains more for the money
        than any book published.

  No. 35. HOW TO PLAY GAMES.—A complete and useful little book,
        containing the rules and regulations of billiards, bagatelle,
        backgammon, croquet, dominoes, etc.

  No. 36. HOW TO SOLVE CONUNDRUMS.—Containing all the leading
        conundrums of the day, amusing riddles, curious catches and
        witty sayings.

  No. 52. HOW TO PLAY CARDS.—A complete and handy little book, giving
        the rules and full directions for playing Euchre, Cribbage,
        Casino, Forty-Five, Rounce, Pedro Sancho, Draw Poker, Auction
        Pitch, All Fours, and many other popular games of cards.

  No. 66. HOW TO DO PUZZLES.—Containing over three hundred interesting
        puzzles and conundrums, with key to same. A complete book.
        Fully illustrated. By A. Anderson.

                                  ETIQUETTE.

  No. 13. HOW TO DO IT; OR, BOOK OF ETIQUETTE.—It is a great life
        secret, and one that every young man desires to know all
        about. There’s happiness in it.

  No. 33. HOW TO BEHAVE.—Containing the rules and etiquette of good
        society and the easiest and most approved methods of appearing
        to good advantage at parties, balls, the theatre, church, and
        in the drawing-room.

                                 DECLAMATION.

  No. 27. HOW TO RECITE AND BOOK OF RECITATIONS.—Containing the most
        popular selections in use, comprising Dutch dialect, French
        dialect, Yankee and Irish dialect pieces, together with many
        standard readings.

  No. 31. HOW TO BECOME A SPEAKER.—Containing fourteen illustrations,
        giving the different positions requisite to become a good
        speaker, reader and elocutionist. Also containing gems from
        all the popular authors of prose and poetry, arranged in the
        most simple and concise manner possible.

  No. 49. HOW TO DEBATE.—Giving rules for conducting debates, outlines
        for debates, questions for discussion, and the best sources
        for procuring information on the questions given.

                                   SOCIETY.

  No. 3. HOW TO FLIRT.—The arts and wiles of flirtation are fully
        explained by this little book. Besides the various methods of
        handkerchief, fan, glove, parasol, window and hat flirtation,
        it contains a full list of the language and sentiment of
        flowers, which is interesting to everybody, both old and
        young. You cannot be happy without one.

  No. 4. HOW TO DANCE is the title of a new and handsome little book
        just issued by Frank Tousey. It contains full instructions in
        the art of dancing, etiquette in the ball-room and at parties,
        how to dress, and full directions for calling off in all
        popular square dances.

  No. 5. HOW TO MAKE LOVE.—A complete guide to love, courtship and
        marriage, giving sensible advice, rules and etiquette to be
        observed, with many curious and interesting things not
        generally known.

  No. 17. HOW TO DRESS.—Containing full instruction in the art of
        dressing and appearing well at home and abroad, giving the
        selections of colors, material, and how to have them made up.

  No. 18. HOW TO BECOME BEAUTIFUL.—One of the brightest and most
        valuable little books ever given to the world. Everybody
        wishes to know how to become beautiful, both male and female.
        The secret is simple, and almost costless. Read this book and
        be convinced how to become beautiful.

                              BIRDS AND ANIMALS.

  No. 7. HOW TO KEEP BIRDS.—Handsomely illustrated and containing full
        instructions for the management and training of the canary,
        mockingbird, bobolink, blackbird, paroquet, parrot, etc.

  No. 39. HOW TO RAISE DOGS, POULTRY, PIGEONS AND RABBITS.—A useful
        and instructive book. Handsomely illustrated. By Ira Drofraw.

  No. 40. HOW TO MAKE AND SET TRAPS.—Including hints on how to catch
        moles, weasels, otter, rats, squirrels and birds. Also how to
        cure skins. Copiously illustrated. By J. Harrington Keene.

  No. 50. HOW TO STUFF BIRDS AND ANIMALS.—A valuable book, giving
        instructions in collecting, preparing, mounting and preserving
        birds, animals and insects.

  No. 54. HOW TO KEEP AND MANAGE PETS.—Giving complete information as
        to the manner and method of raising, keeping, taming,
        breeding, and managing all kinds of pets; also giving full
        instructions for making cages, etc. Fully explained by
        twenty-eight illustrations, making it the most complete book
        of the kind ever published.

                                MISCELLANEOUS.

  No. 8. HOW TO BECOME A SCIENTIST.—A useful and instructive book,
        giving a complete treatise on chemistry; also experiments in
        acoustics, mechanics, mathematics, chemistry, and directions
        for making fireworks, colored tires, and gas balloons. This
        book cannot be equaled.

  No. 14. HOW TO MAKE CANDY.—A complete hand-book for making all kinds
        of candy, ice-cream, syrups, essences, etc., etc.

  No. 19. FRANK TOUSEY’S UNITED STATES DISTANCE TABLES, POCKET
        COMPANION AND GUIDE.—Giving the official distances on all the
        railroads of the United States and Canada. Also table of
        distances by water to foreign ports, hack fares in the
        principal cities, reports of the census, etc., etc., making it
        one of the most complete and handy books published.

  No. 38. HOW TO BECOME YOUR OWN DOCTOR.—A wonderful book, containing
        useful and practical information in the treatment of ordinary
        diseases and ailments common to every family. Abounding in
        useful and effective recipes for general complaints.

  No. 55. HOW TO COLLECT STAMPS AND COINS.—Containing valuable
        information regarding the collecting and arranging of stamps
        and coins. Handsomely illustrated.

  No. 58. HOW TO BE A DETECTIVE.—By Old King Brady, the world-known
        detective. In which he lays down some valuable and sensible
        rules for beginners, and also relates some adventures and
        experiences of well-known detectives.

  No. 60. HOW TO BECOME A PHOTOGRAPHER.—Containing useful information
        regarding the Camera and how to work it; also how to make
        Photographic Magic Lantern Slides and other Transparencies.
        Handsomely illustrated. By Captain W. De W. Abney.

  No. 62. HOW TO BECOME A WEST POINT MILITARY CADET.—Containing full
        explanations how to gain admittance, course of Study,
        Examinations, Duties, Staff of Officers, Post Guard, Police
        Regulations, Fire Department, and all a boy should know to be
        a Cadet. Compiled and written by Lu Senarens, author of “How
        to Become a Naval Cadet.”

  No. 63. HOW TO BECOME A NAVAL CADET.—Complete instructions of how to
        gain admission to the Annapolis Naval Academy. Also containing
        the course of instruction, description of grounds and
        buildings, historical sketch, and everything a boy should know
        to become an officer in the United States Navy. Compiled and
        written by Lu Senarens, author of “How to Become a West Point
        Military Cadet.”

                PRICE 10 CENTS EACH, OR 3 FOR 25 CENTS.
      Address FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher, 24 Union Square, New York.



                      FRANK READE WEEKLY MAGAZINE.

     Containing Stories of Adventures on Land, Sea, and in the Air.

                              BY “NONAME.”

             EACH NUMBER IN A HANDSOMELY ILLUMINATED COVER.

                     A 32-PAGE BOOK FOR FIVE CENTS.

All our readers know Frank Reade, Jr., the greatest inventor of the age,
and his two fun-loving chums, Barney and Pomp. The stories published in
this magazine contain a true account of the wonderful and exciting
adventures of the famous inventor, with his marvellous flying machines,
electrical overland engines, and his extraordinary submarine boats. Each
number is a rare treat. Tell your newsdealer to get you a copy.

                             LATEST ISSUES.

  19 Six Weeks in the Clouds; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Air-Ship the
        “Thunderbolt.”

  20 Around the World Under Water; or, The Wonderful Cruise of a
        Submarine Boat.

  21 The Mystic Brand; or, Frank Reade, Jr., and His Overland Stage.

  22 Frank Reade, Jr.’s Electric Air Racer; or, Around the Globe in
        Thirty Days.

  23 The Sunken Pirate; or, Frank Reade, Jr., in Search of a Treasure
        at the Bottom of the Sea.

  24 Frank Reade, Jr.’s Magnetic Gun Carriage; or, Working for the U.
        S. Mail.

  25 Frank Reade, Jr., and His Electric Ice Ship; or, Driven Adrift in
        the Frozen Sky.

  26 Frank Reade, Jr.’s Electric Sea Engine; or, Hunting for a Sunken
        Diamond Mine.

  27 The Black Range; or, Frank Reade, Jr., Among the Cowboys with His
        Electric Caravan.

  28 Over the Andes with Frank Reade, Jr., in His New Air-Ship; or,
        Wild Adventures in Peru.

  29 Frank Reade, Jr., Exploring a Submarine Mountain; or, Lost at the
        Bottom of the Sea.

  30 Adrift in Africa; or, Frank Reade, Jr., Among the Ivory Hunters
        with His New Electric Wagon.

  31 Frank Reade, Jr.’s Search for a Lost Man in His Latest Air
        Wonder.

  32 Frank Reade, Jr.’s Search for the Sea Serpent; or, Six Thousand
        Miles Under the Sea.

  33 Frank Reade, Jr.’s Prairie Whirlwind; or, The Mystery of the
        Hidden Canyon.

  34 Around the Horizon for Ten Thousand Miles; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s
        Most Wonderful Trip.

  35 Lost in the Atlantic Valley; or, Frank Reade, Jr., and his
        Wonder, the “Dart.”

  36 Frank Reade, Jr.’s Desert Explorer; or, The Underground City of
        the Sahara.

  37 Lost in the Mountains of the Moon; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Great
        Trip with the “Scud.”

  38 Under the Amazon for a Thousand Miles.

  39 Frank Reade, Jr.’s Clipper of the Prairie; or, Fighting the
        Apaches in the Southwest.

  40 The Chase of a Comet; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Aerial Trip with the
        “Flash.”

  41 Across the Frozen Sea; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Electric Snow
        Cutter.

  42 Frank Reade, Jr.’s Electric Buckboard; or, Thrilling Adventures
        in North Australia.

  43 Around the Arctic Circle; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Famous Flight
        With His Air Ship.

  44 Frank Reade, Jr.’s Search for the Silver Whale; or, Under the
        Ocean in the Electric “Dolphin.”

  45 Frank Reade, Jr., and His Electric Car; or, Outwitting a
        Desperate Gang.

  46 To the End of the Earth; or, Frank Reade Jr.’s Great Mid-Air
        Flight.

  47 The Missing Island; or, Frank Reade Jr.’s Voyage Under the Sea.

  48 Frank Reade, Jr., in Central India; or, the Search for the Lost
        Savants.

  49 Frank Reade, Jr. Fighting the Terror of the Coast.

  50 100 Miles Below the Surface of the Sea; or, The Marvelous Trip of
        Frank Reade, Jr.

  51 Abandoned in Alaska; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Thrilling Search for
        a Lost Gold Claim.

  52 Frank Reade, Jr.’s Twenty-Five Thousand Mile Trip in the Air.

  53 Under the Yellow Sea; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Search for the Cave
        of Pearls.

  54 From the Nile to the Niger; or, Frank Reade, Jr. Lost in the
        Soudan.

  55 The Electric Island; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Search for the
        Greatest Wonder on Earth.

  56 The Underground Sea; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Subterranean Cruise.

  57 From Tropic to Tropic; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Tour With His
        Bicycle Car.

  58 Lost in a Comet’s Tail; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Strange Adventure
        With His Air-ship.

  59 Under Four Oceans; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Submarine Chase of a
        “Sea Devil.”

  60 The Mysterious Mirage; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Desert Search for a
        Secret City.

  61 Latitude 90 Degrees; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Most Wonderful
        Mid-Air Flight.

  62 Lost in the Great Undertow; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Submarine
        Cruise in the Gulf Stream.

  63 Across Australia with Frank Reade, Jr.; or, In His New Electric
        Car.

  64 Over Two Continents; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Long Distance Flight.

  65 Under the Equator; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Greatest Submarine
        Voyage.

  66 Astray in the Selvas; or, The Wild Experiences of Frank Reade,
        Jr., in South America.

  67 In the Wild Man’s Land; or, With Frank Reade, Jr., in the Heart
        of Australia.

  68 From Coast to Coast; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Trip Across Africa.

  69 Beyond the Gold Coast; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Overland Trip.

  70 Across the Earth; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Latest Trip With His New
        Air Ship.

  71 Six Weeks Buried in a Deep Sea Cave; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Great
        Submarine Search.

  72 Across the Desert of Fire; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Marvelous Trip
        in a Strange Country.

  73 The Transient Lake; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Adventures in a
        Mysterious Country.

  74 The Galleon’s Gold; or, Frank Reade, Jr.’s Deep Sea Search.

 For Sale by All Newsdealers, or will be Sent to Any Address on Receipt
                     of Price, 5 Cents per Copy, by

      FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher,            24 Union Square, New York

IF YOU WANT ANY BACK NUMBERS

of our Libraries and cannot procure them from newsdealers, they can be
obtained from this office direct. Cut out and fill in the following
Order Blank and send it to us with the price of the books you want and
we will send them to you by return mail. POSTAGE STAMPS TAKEN THE SAME
AS MONEY.

 FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher, 24 Union Square, New York.          .... 190

 DEAR SIR—Enclosed find .... cents for which please send me:

 .... copies of WORK AND WIN, Nos....................................
 .... copies of WILD WEST WEEKLY, Nos................................
 .... copies of FRANK READE WEEKLY, Nos..............................
 .... copies of PLUCK AND LUCK, Nos..................................
 .... copies of SECRET SERVICE, Nos..................................
 .... copies of THE LIBERTY BOYS OF ‘76, Nos.........................
 .... copies of Ten-Cent Hand Books, Nos.............................

 Name............. Street and No. .......... Town ........ State ....

------------------------------------------------------------------------



                          TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES


 1. Added Table of Contents.
 2. Moved advertising from inside front cover to before inside back
      cover.
 3. Silently corrected typographical errors.
 4. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.
 5. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
 6. Enclosed bold font in =equals=.





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