Indianapolis Times, Volume 35, Number 155, Indianapolis, Marion County, 8 November 1922 — Page 8

8

RAM INGjÉg - . fa EjOBEUTWCHÀMBEKS •’** J*&***^ ir *~ *' Q XQC2.Q. GEORG* H DORAN COMRAJW

EPISODE ELEVEN The Place of Pines CHAPTER I The last sound that Mike Clinch heard on earth was thè detonatìon of his own riffe. Probably lt was an agreeable sound to him. He lay thè re with a pleasant expression on his massive features. His watch had fallen out of his pocket. Quintana shined him with an electric torch; plcked up thè watch. Then, holding thè torch in one hand, he went through thè dead man's pockets rery thoroughly. When Quintana had flnished, both trays of thè fiat morocco casa, were full of jewels. And Quintana was full of wonder and suspicion. Unquietly he looked upon thè dead —upon thè glittering contenta of thè Jewel box—but always his gaze reverted to thè dead. The faintest shadow of a smile edged Clinch’s lìps. Quintana's lipa grew graver. He said slowly, like one who his thinklng aloud: "What ls it you have dono te me, l’aml Clinch? • • • Are there truly then two seta of preclous stones? — two Flaming Jewels?—Two gema of Erosite like there never has been in all thees worl’ excep’ only two more? • * • Or is one set false? • • • Have I bere one set of paste fac-

SHE UXHOOKED THE LARO EST AND STARTED BACK. similes? • • • My frlen' Clinch, why do you Ile there an" smile at me so ver’ funny? • • • like you are amuse? * • • I am wonderlng what you have done to me. my frien' Clinch * • *” For a while he remained kneeling beside thè dead. Then: “Ah, bah.” he said, pocketing thè morocco case and getting to his feet. He moved a little way toward thè ossk mm tropi By Times Special WASHINGTON, Nov. B.—" Lo. thè poor Indlan,” isn’t so poor aster all — r.ot in a flnancial way. The Osage Indiana of Oklahoma, richest people, per capita, in thè world, are to become rlcher stili by reason of an order issued by thè Indian Commissioners’ office thè other day which will permit thè drilling of additional oil wells on thelr tribai lamia. Already there are between 6,000 and 7,000 wells in operation in thè Osage field, producing around 100,000 barrels a day and yielding thè 2,200 Indiana upward of SIO,OOO a year royalty for each man. woman and child. The golden stream flows into their tribai fund year aster year, but Uncle Sam, acting as guardian, banks most of it for them until such time as they shall be adjudged "competent." Nevertheless, when thè quarterly allotments are made, sharpers and swindlers of all kinds flock in to sell thè gullible red skins cheap cigars at sl6 a box and other things at prices in proportion. Protecting thè Government’s wards from swindlers la one of thè blggest tasks of thè Indian Service. Formerly great numbers of crooked whites attempted to marry into thè trlbe to get thè advantage of some squaw's easy income, but closing thè tribai rolls several years ago put an end to this. CRIME 0N INCREASE, SAY ANTI-PROHIBITIONiSTS By Times Special WASHINGTON. Nov. B—‘There were 190 murders in Chicago last year." according to thè board of temporanee of thè Methodist Church of America, "but that fact doesn't indicate that ‘crime is Increasing.' even in Chicago, as claimed by thè Association Against thè Prohlbition Amendment.’* The Anti-Prohibition Associatlon, which has national headquarters here. has issued a deli in which they claim to prove from statistica that crime evervwhere is increasing as thè refi ult of ‘‘unenforced prohlbition laws” and thè resultant poison bootleg whisky. "A maliclous falsehood!” retaliates thc Methodist temperance board, and puts out a survey of Chicago—supposed to be America’s worst city—to prove it. The survey, which was by Mark E. Shaw. nationally known research statistician, shows: In 1919 —Murders, 330; burglariea. 6.108: robberies, 2,912; total major, crimes, 9,350. In 1920—Murders. 194; burglaries, I 5.495; robberies, 2,782; total major ; crimes, 8,471. In 1921 Murders. 190; burglaries, 4,774; robberies, 2.588; total major crimes, 7,522. Yelvet Froek A black velvet gown of unusual beauty has a draped skirt, lined with nipple rovai blue satin revealed by he drapery- The upper part of thè rock ls heavily beaded in blue matchtng thè linlng.

open trall, stopped, carne back, stood his riffe against a tree. For a while he was busy with his Sharp Spanish clasp knife, whittling and fttting together two peeled twigs. A cross was thè ultimate result. Then he placed Clinch’s hands palm to palm upon his chest, laid thè cross on his breast, and shined thè result with complacency. Then Quintana took off his hat. "L’ami Mike,” he said, "you were a man! * * * Adios!” The night had tumed frosty. Quintana, wet to thè knees and very tired, moved slowly, not daring to leave thè trall because of sink-holes. What he had to have was a Are; he realized that. Somewhere ox thè trall. in big timber if possible, he must build a sire and master this deadly chili that was slowly parajyzing all power of movement. At last he carne to a place of pines, flrst growth giants towering into night, and, looking up, saw stars, infinitely distant. * * * where perhaps those things called souls drifted like wisps of vapor. When thè Are took, Quintana’s thin, dark hands had become nearly useless from cold. He could not have crooked finger to trigger. For a long time he sat dose to thè blaze, slowly massaging his torpid limbs, but did not dare strip off his foot-gear.

Later he ate and drank languidly. looking up at thè stars, speculating as to thè possible presence of Mike Clinch up there. What a chase Clinch had led him aster thè Flaming Jewel. And now Clinch lay dead in thè forest —falntly smiling. At what? In a very low, passlonless voice. Quintana cursed monotonously as he gazed into thè sire. In Spanish, French, Portuguese. Italian he c ursed Clinch. Aster a little while he remembered Clinch’s daughter, and he cursed her, elaborately, thoroughly, wlshing her black mischance awake and asleep, llving or dead. Presently Quintana slept aster his own fashion —that is to say. looking closely at him one could diseover a glimmer under his lowered eyelids. And he listened always in that kind of sleep. As tliough a shadowy part of his were detached from his body, and mounted guard over it. The inaudibie movement of n wood-mouse venturing into thè firelit circle awoke Quintana. Again a dropping leaf amid distant birches awoke him. Such things. And so he slept with wet feet to thè sire and his riffe across his knees: and dreamed of Ève and of murder, and that thè Flaming Jewel was but a mass of glass. At that moment thè girl of whose white throat Quintana was dreaming, and whining faintly in his dreams, stood alone outside Clinch’s Dump, riffe in hand, listening, flghting thè creeping dread that touched her slender body at times—seern to touch her very heart with frost. Clinch’s mcn had gone on to Ghost Lake with their wounded and dead, where there was fltter shelter for both. All had gone on; nobody remaìned to await Clinch’s homecoming except Ève Strayer. It was not yet dawn, bu tthe girl could endure thè strain no longer. With electrlc torch and riffe she started for thè forest, almost runnlng at first; then, among thè sir trees, moving with caution and in silence along thè trail over which Clinch should long since have joumeyed homeward. But nowhere could she discover any impression resembling her stepfather’s —that great, firm stride and solid imprint which so often she had tracked through moss and swale and which she knew so well.

Once when she got up from her knees aster dose exnmination of thè muddy trail, she became aware of thè slightest talnt in thè night air—stood with delicate nostrils quivering—advanced, stili conscious of thè talnt, listening, vvary, every stealthy instinct alert. She had not been mistaken: somewhere in thè forest there was smoke. Somewhere a Are was burning. It might not be very far away; it might be distant. Whose Are? Her father’s? Would a hunter of men build a Are? The girl stood shivering in thè darkness. There was not a sound. Now, keeping her cautious feet in thè trail by sense of touch alone, she moved on. Gradually, as she advanced, thè odor of smoke became more distinct. She heard nothing, saw nothing; but there was a near reek of emoke in her nostrils and she stopped short. In thè falnt, pale luster she saw a tiny rivulet Aowing westward from a spring, and, beside lt, in thè mud, lmprints of a man’s feet. The tracks were amali, narrow, sllmmer than lmprints made by any man she could think of. Under thè glimmer of her torch they seemed quite fresh; contours were stili Sharp, some ready to crumble, and water stood in thè heels. As she stole along, dimly shining thè tracks, lifting her head incessantly to listen and peer into thè darkness, her quick eye caught somethlng ahead—something very sligtly different from thè wall of black obscurity —a vague hint of color—thè very \aguest tint scarcely perceptible at aU. But she knew it was Arelight touching thè trunk of an unseen tree. Now, soundless over damp pine needles she crept. The scent of smoke grew strong in nostril and throat. All about her thè blackness seemed palpable—seemed to touch her body with ite weight: but, ahead, a ruddy glow stained two huge pines. And presently she saw thè Are, burning low, but redly alive. And, aster a long, long while, she saw a man. He had 'left thè Are circle. His pack and belted mackinaw stili lay there at thè foot of thè great tree. But when, Ana'.ly, she discovered him, he was scarcely vlslble where he crouched in thè shadow of a tree trunk, with his riAe half-lowered at a ready. She strained her eyes; but distance and obscurity made recognition impossible. And yet, somehow, every quivering instinct within her was telllng lire that thè crouched and shadowy watcher beyond thè Are was Quintana. And every concertrated instinct was

DOINGS OF THE DUFFS—

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THEM DAYS IS GONE FOREVER—

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■■ ' L J 7 " SoLD IWKBÓrFnwS te oJ LLDd — iSSL NO NA/ONDEIS.' OTEY WALKER IS mSTIFIED-THIS IS THE JHIRD DAY HE HAS I M, OF FLOWERS ON KIS DESK. J

telling her that he’d kill her if he caught sight of her; her heart clamcred it; her pulses thumped it in ber ears. Had thè girl been capable of lt he could have killed him where he crouched. She thought of it, but knew it was not in her to do it. And yet Quintana had boasted that he meant to kill her father. That '"as

ll’ULh JLIN AJTVJ'IjJ.ÌQ XJj.VJ.iniS

OUT OUK WAY—By WILLLAMS

THE OLD HOME TOWN—By STANLEY

what terribly concemed her. And there must be a way to stop that danger—some way to render this man harmless to her and hers. No, she could not kill him this way. Except in extremes she could not brlng herself to Are upon any human creature. And yet this man must be rendered harmless—somehow—somehow —ah!—

“Aster tlie Poli Was Over’’

As thè problem presented itself its solution Aashed into her mind. Men of thè wilderness knew how to take dangerous creatures alive. To take a dangerous and reasoning human was even less difflcult, because reason makes more mistakes than does instinct. Stealthily, without a sound, thè girl crept back through thè ehadows over

Wasted Efforts

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIEN DS —By BLOSSER

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thè damp ine needles, until, peering fearfuliy over her shoulder, she saw thè last ghost-tint of Quintana’s Are dio out in thè terriAc dark behind. Slowly, stili, she moved until her sensitive feet felt thè trodden path from Drowned Valley. Now, with torch Haring, she ran, carrying her riAe at a trail. Before her, here and there, little night crea-

OUR BO.VIimXG HOUSE—By AHERN

tures Aed humped-up raceoon, dazzled by thè giare, a barred owl stili struggling with its wood-rat kill. She ran easily—an agile, tireless young tbing, pnr-t of thè swiftness and silerjce of thè woods —part of thè darkness, thè sinuous celerity, thè ominous hush of wide, stili places—part of ■ its very blood and pulso and hot, sweet breath.

i\Ov. o, iy^

—By ALLMAN

—By AL POSEN

Even when she carne out among thè blrches by Clinch’s Dump she was breathing evenly and without distress. She ran to thè kitchen door but did not enter. On pegs under thè porch ascore or more or rusty traps hung. She unhooked thè largest, wound thè chain around it, tucked it under her left arm and start ed back. (To be Continued.)