TERROR OF THE COAST***


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[Illustration: FRANK READE WEEKLY MAGAZINE Containing Stories of
Adventures on Land, Sea & in the Air]

  _Issued Weekly—By Subscription $2.50 per year. Application made for
               Second-Class Entry at N. Y. Post-Office._
 No. 49.               NEW YORK, OCTOBER 2, 1903.        Price 5 Cents.

[Illustration: FRANK READE, JR FIGHTING THE TERROR OF THE COAST. By
“NONAME.”]

 Over the schooner swept the Jove, and Frank got on the ladder with the
  boy. Barney drove the machine over the water toward the shore. Many
 bullets were shot at the inventor. They missed him, and he was carried
                             out of danger.

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

                              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 1903, in the office of the
   Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. by Frank Tousey, 24 Union
                           Square, New York._

 No. 49.               NEW YORK, OCTOBER 2, 1903.        Price 5 Cents.




          Frank Reade, Jr., Fighting the Terror of the Coast.


                              By “NONAME.”




                                CONTENTS


               CHAPTER    I. CHASING THE AIR-SHIP.
               CHAPTER   II. A DANGEROUS FALL.
               CHAPTER  III. OVERTURNED IN THE AIR.
               CHAPTER   IV. POMP’S ESCAPE.
               CHAPTER    V. THE TERROR OF THE COAST.
               CHAPTER   VI. SHOT BY A LAND BATTERY.
               CHAPTER  VII. STUCK IN THE MUD.
               CHAPTER VIII. ATTACKING THE PIRATES’ LAIR.
               CHAPTER   IX. THE END OF ONE OF THE SHIPS.
               CHAPTER    X. THE PIRATES’ TREASURE.
               CHAPTER   XI. THE RESCUE.
               CHAPTER  XII. CONCLUSION.




                               CHAPTER I.
                         CHASING THE AIR-SHIP.


Toward the close of a cool, pleasant day in September, 18—, the
residents of the village of Readestown were startled by seeing a
horseman come dashing furiously into the town.

He was a middle-aged man, with dark, swarthy features, piercing black
eyes, a black mustache and dark hair. His slender figure was clad in the
costume of a native Mexican, and he rode like an expert.

The man bestrode a fine, swift bay mare, and as he went thundering
through the main street enveloped in a cloud of dust at the top of the
mare’s speed, he attracted considerable attention.

The horse finally paused before a palatial mansion, out of the gate of
which a beautiful young woman was coming, and the Mexican politely
raised his sombrero and asked in good English:

“Senora, can you direct me to the home of Frank Reade, Jr.?”

“This house is his residence,” replied the lady, curiously eyeing the
man.

“Ah! Thank you! Do you know if he is in?”

“He has gone away.”

“Gone!” gasped the man in startled tones.

“Half an hour ago.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I should know, as I am his wife.”

“But he will return soon?” eagerly asked the man.

“No; perhaps not for several weeks.”

“Dios mio! How unfortunate for me! The train I came on from Boston broke
down a league from here, and in my haste to reach this place in season
to catch him ere he departed, I hired this horse and came in the
saddle.”

“What a pity you arrived too late!”

“Yes, indeed; for it is with me a matter of life or death.”

“I am astonished.”

“He has, of course, gone in his new flying machine?”

“Exactly so, sir.”

“When I landed from Mexico I read in the daily paper that he had
finished his marvelous invention, and intended to make a trial trip in
it this evening.”

“Was your business important, sir?”

“Very. So much so that I came all the way here from Mexico to see him in
relation to his new air-ship.”

“I am very sorry you failed to get here in time.”

“You have no idea of my own anxiety, senora.”

“Perhaps I might direct you so you could find him.”

“Do so, and I shall be very grateful indeed.”

“Well, the machine ran against the wind, which blows from the southwest,
and made a successful ascension. The last I saw of it it was heading due
southwest of here. Just five miles away in that direction lies the town
of Foxhall, at which Frank intends to pause awhile to examine the
air-ship and see how it stood the initial test. By going there with all
speed, you might reach him before he sends the air-ship aloft again.”

“Thank you a thousand times. I shall try the plan.”

And doffing his hat to her