Indianapolis Times, Volume 39, Number 288, Indianapolis, Marion County, 29 March 1928 — Page 18

PAGE 18

C &Y P NfA G SERV?C^

THIS HAS HAPPENED The summer she is 16, SALLY FORD is “farmed out’’ to CLEM CARSON, an uncouth farmer and severe taskmaster, and leaves the orphanage, which is the only home she knows from the time she is 4. At the farm she meets DAVID NASH, handsome young student who is working on the Carson farm for the summer, preparing himself to inherit his grandfather’s acres, which adjoin the Carson place. David likes the little orphan and plainly shows he prefers her to PEARL, Carson's daughter. This angers both Pearl and her father. One night when Sally and David are walking, she tells him she fears Carson is going to take her baek to the Home. The next day Sally Innocently goes into David’s room to see his books on farming. They are startled to see Carson’s face appear at tho little attic window. David is so infuriated with Carson’s insinuating remarks that he strikes him, sending him crashing to the ground. Not knowing whether Carson is dead or not, David and Sally run away. David tells her she must go back to the Home, but she refuses and he says he will not leave her alone. That night they strike out across fields for Stanton. At daybreak they cross a railroad track and see coming toward them a carnival train. The train slows up near them and Sally sees an old friend. _ NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER XIII TO Sally it was all like a dream, a fantastic, lovely dream —except that in dreams you are never permitted to eat the feast that your hunger ipakes so real. And not even in a dream could she have imagined anything so good as the thick, furry, dark-brown buckwheat cakes, plastered with golden butter and swimming in maple syrup. And Eddie Cobb’s voice seemed real enough, although the things he was telling her and David in the hastily erected cooktent. certainly had dream-like qualities. * And David, sighing with satisfaction over his third plateful of hot cakes was gloriously real. So was the long, rough pine counter at which they ate, and behind which the big Negro cook sang songs as he worked before a huge smoky oil stove. Tables scattered throughout the tent and covered with worn oilcloth reminded her of the refectory of the orphanage which now seemea so far away in the past of her childhood. She drew her wondering eyes from their exploration of the cook tent, focussed them on Eddie Cobb’s freckled, good-natured face, listened to what he was telling them: “This is a pretty good outfit. We carry our own show train, even for the short jumps, and the star performers and the big boss and the bakers—when they’re flush—eat in the dining car. Got a special cook for the big bugs, waiters and everything. ’Course, sometimes we can’t gat show grounds dost enough to this railroad to use the cars much, but in this burg we’re lucky enough to get a lot pretty dost to a siding. The performers will sleep in their berths, less’n it gets too hot and they want their tents pitched on the lot.” "What do you do In the carnival, Eddie?” Sally asked respectfully. “Oh, I’m helpin’ Lucky Looey on the wheels. Gamblin’ concessions, you know,’’ he enlarged grandly.

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“Looey’s got three kewpie dolls booths and I’m in charge of one of ’em. Old Bybee—Winfield Bybee—owns the show and travels with it—not like most owners. He owns .the concessions and lets the concessionaires operate ’em on percentage. He owns the freaks and the girlie show and the high-diver and all the ridin’ rackets—ferris wheels, merry-go-rounds, whips ’n everything. He’ll be showin’ up any minute now and I’ll give you a knockdown to him.” “You’re so good to us, Eddie,” Sally glowed at him. “David and I hadn’t an idea what we should do, and we were so hungry we could have eaten field corn off the stalks.” “You looked all in,” Eddie grinned at her. “So you run away, too, Sally. Couldn’t stand the racket any longer, eh? Is David here a buddy you picked up on the road? To think of little Sally Ford hoboing?” “I’m afraid I’ve taken advantage of your friendship for Sally, Cobb,” David said. “The truth is, Cobb—” “Aw, make it Eddie. We’re all buddies, ain’t we?” “Well, the truth is, Eddie, that I’m afraid I’m a fugitive from justice. I wanted to take Sally back to the orphanage and give myself up for murder—” “Gawd!” Eddie ejaculated, paling. Then something like admiration glittered in his little black eyes. “Put the soft pedal on, Dave. Don’t let nobody hear you—” “It wasn’t murder, Eddie,” Sally interrupted eagerly, her hand going out to close on David’s reassuringly. “It was—an accident, in a way. Tell him, David. Eddie will understand.” The cook tent was filling up, so David lowered his voice to a murmur as he told Eddie Cobb, briefly but accurately, the story of his probably fatal attack upon Clem Carson, the farmer. “Jees!” Eddie breathed, when the recital was finished. “I hope you finished for him! If the old buzzard ain’t dead—and I’ll bet he ain’t—l'd like to take a crack at him myself. You two kids stick with us. I’ll tip off Bybee and I’m a sori-of-a-gun if he don’t give you both jobs. The concessions are always short of help—” “Oh, Eddie, if he only would!” Sally gasped. Then sudden doubt clouded her bright face. "But Eddie, we'd be so conspicuous with the carnival. The police would lay hands on us as soon as we showed our faces—” “Not if the Big Boss took you under his wing,” Eddie reassured her. “In the carnival the Big Boss is the law. I’ll speak to him myself.” The carnival roustabouts big, rough-looking, powerful negroes in undershirts—eyed the trio curiously as they passed from one tent and booth to another, Eddie explaining

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and gesticulatnig like a Cook’s tour conductor, “Jees, Sally, I never expected to see any of you kids again,” Eddie interrupted his monologue, which was like Greek to his guests. . “Have you ever been sorry you ran away, Eddie?” Sally asked, wistfully desiring reassurance, for it was still impossible for her to picture life independent of state charity. Eddie snorted. “I’ve been seeing life, I have. New York and Chi and San Looey and all the big towns. But I reckon it’s easier for a boy. I never did want to go back, of course, but I've thought many a time, I’d like to see of the kids.” He blushed crimson under his big freckles. “How —how’s Ruby, Sally? You know— Ruby Presser? She still there? She must be 17 now. She was two years youngr’n me. I sorta figger on marryin’ Ruby one of these days—say what’s the matter?” he broke off abruptly. “Ruby—Ruby’s dead. Eddie. Didn’t you read about it in the papers?” “Ruby—dead? Yoq—you ain’t kiddin’ me, Sally? Ruby—dead!” Sally’s distressed blue eyes fluttered to David's face as if for help. “Ruby—fell—out of a fifth story window, Eddie—last September.” Sally admitted in a choked voice. “After she had spent the summer on the Carson farm, Eddie.” David broke in quietly, significantly. Sally closed her eyes so as not to see the conflict of rage and grief in Eddie Cobb’s boyish face. “I hope to God you did kill him, David!” Eddie burst out at last. “If you didn’t I’ll finish him!” “What’s all this, Eddie?” a great bellow brought them all to startled attention. “Old home week? Get to your work! Lucky’s howling for you. Who the hell do you think’s gfting to set out the dolls?” Eddie’s importance was suddenly shattered. The big man, who seemed to Sally to be as tall as the giant whom he advertised as a star attraction, came striding across the stubby, dusty lot. His enormous head, topped with a wide-brimmed black felt hat in defiance of the torrid June weather, showed a fringe of long, curling white hair which reached almost to the shoulders of his Prince Albert coat. “I’d like to speak to you a minute, sir,” Eddie urged meekly.

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After another frowning, considering up-and-down glance at David and Sally, but particularly at Sally, the big man strode away with Eddie, out of earshot. “If the big man does take us, you won’t be sorry, will you, David?” Sally phispered, clinging to David’s hand. ’’Dear little Sally!” David drew her close against him for a moment. They stood close to each other, Sally not caring if the interview between Bybee and Eddie prolonged itself interminably, for David was there, thinking—she could feel his thoughts—“ Dear little Sally”— But after only a few minutes Winfield Bybee and Eddie ca ne across the stubble toward them. Bybee spoke, gruffly: “Eddie here has been telling me that you two kids have got yourstlves into a peck of trouble, and want to hide out a bit. Well, I reckon a traveling carnftal is about the best place in God’s world to hide. Anybody that wants to bother you will have to deal with Winifield Bybee, and I ain’t yet turned any of my family over to a village constable. Now, Dave —that your name? —if you want to keep out of sight, reckon I’d better let you help Buck, the cook on the privilege car. "Sometimes Buck gets too chummy with a bootlegger and his K. P. has to rustle the chow alone, but otherwise the boy’s all right. And you, Sally—” His keen eyes narrowed speculatively, took in the little flushed face, the big eyes sparkling. Then one of his big hands reached out and lifted the heavy braid of black hair that hung to her The help-yourself plan of a cafeteria enables the finest of foods at “odd penny prices ,y to be served at White’s Cafeteria, 27 N. Illinois.

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waist, weighed it, studied it thoughtfully. (To Be Continued) Sally's real adventure begins. She becomes a performer in the carnival. ADA MS SPEAKS OK~ AIR “lAust Be Extremists to Demand Square Deal,” Says Candidate. By Times Special SOUTH BEND, Ind., March 29. “We must be extremists, all of us, when we demand a square deal,” declared Thomas H. Adams of Vincennes, candidate for the Republican nomination for Governor, in a radio address here Wednesday, answering criticisms that his fight against corruption “is too radical.” “Gang rule is making frantic efforts to strifle press, pulpit and free speech,” he said. “I have no time for a pussyfooter. He is as reprehensible as a war-time slacker.” State Hospital Head Dies By Times Special LOGANSPORT, Ind., March 29. Dr .Samuel Dobbs, 61, superintendent for eight years of the Northern Indiana Hospital for the Insane near here, is dead, of cancer from which he had suffered two years.

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