Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 193, Indianapolis, Marion County, 23 December 1929 — Page 16

PAGE 16

OUT OUR WAY

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SYNOPSIS When Jacqueline Bordini. famous movie star, returns to the little town In which she had grown up. Howell Sheffield Is filled with dissatisfaction. Howell's father, an overworked country doctor, dies of pneumonia, leaving his family practically nothing. Howell, against the wishes of his mother, decides to leave medical school and go to Hollywood. On the train an older woman, who calls hersetf "Lambie." offers him her friendship. Howell gets a room and .meets Bally Osbourne, who does not think much of his ambition to be a -movie actor. He tries to get work as an extra, but falls. One director refuses to help him and advised him to go back to medical school. Howell, disillusioned, walks home with the friendly waitress of a candy ■hop. Next morning Sally Osborne warns him what, Hollywood will do to him. Desperate and almost penniless, Howell Is starving himself, but his determination to get into the movies does not falter. At last he gets a Job as an extra In a cafeteria scene. One night Lambie, In an expensive car. picks him up and takes him to her luxurious home. She promises to help him. Shortly after he reaches his room. Sally Osborne comes in i Tightened nd tells him some cne has been following her. Howell walks home with her. He realizes that she meens more to him than any other girl he has met. but she Is contemptuous of his ambition to get into the movies and this angers him. Howe!! keeps an appointment with “Lambie." Through her he gets a letter from Carleton Meade, the producer. But the price of her help Is a kiss which leaves him cold. Through Carleton Meade's letter he gets a Job as an "extra.” Gratefully, he plays up to "Lambie,” though the hardfaced. middle-aged woman repels him. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (Continued. > , “Are we allowed to ask for the kind of a costume we'd like?” he inquired, anxiously. Dimples frowned. “God! Haven’t you ever been in a picture before?’’ “I was on the same set with you at Culver City,” Howell replied with dignity. Dimples’ eyebrows lifted. “Yeah? Oh, you're the guy that Tainted!” Howell flushed. He would remember that. “Well, listen, brother,” the other boy continued. “You take whatever's handed to you in this business. These movie directors are kings. There are so many costumes they'll want used and you’ll be given whatever seems to suit. And what you think about it won't make a damn bit of difference.” But surely any one could see he was just the type for one of those fotoball teams. a ts a HE watched "Dimples” receive a “tough” costume. Trousers and coat which did not match, and a ratty old cap. Met the brief, allseeing glance of the god behind the gate, and looked down to find a policeman's uniform on the counter in front of him. “Is this for me?" he stammered. “Nothing else but! Go over to the dressing room and put it on.” Howell walked out with the brass buttons clicking across his arm. What a joke! Was it on them or him? That they should use the captain of a university football team for a policeman, while the fellows who had probably never played in a real game trotted back and forth getting a huge “kick” out of their own importance. Once in the poorly lighted dressing room he found the uniform uncomfortably tight. “I can t wear this all day. I can’t ait down in it.” he commented, eyeing himseli disgustedly. “Never saw a uniform yet that wasn’t a misfit,” grumbled DLmples. “They’re always tight. Look better that way. You've nothing to crab about. You make a swell-looking cop.” He pulled the disreputable cap over his sullen eyes and sauntered forth. The light was so poor that Howell could not get a clear glimpse of himself, but as he rather selfconsciously returned to the waiting group of extras he saw the assistant director who had sent him to the wardrobe nod as if satisfied. There ensued one of the most uncomfortable days he had ever spent. Over and over the football team trotted upon the field before the game. Over and over Howell as a policeman held back the crowd. His trousers were too tight. His collar was choking him. Except for an hour at, noon there was not an instant's respite from the glare of the sun. Well, anyway, he was in toe movies now. -

When 6 o’olock came he found himself walking toward the dressing room, with the footsore limp of a weary soldier. Not ungrateful to hear the assistant director’s command to report Monday—“same time, same costume”—but a little surprised that anything which looked so exciting from the outside could become so painfully monotonous. Ist a A S he made the long trip home, -t"V his eyes almost closed with weariness. He had thought he might call for Madalyn but he was too tired, too tired to cook his own dinner. He stopped in The White ! Spot and ordered a hamburger and coffee, and his hand shook as he lifted the cup. Gosh, w'hat had taken it out of him so? Was he getting “soft,” or was it because of the lack of food? Too exhausted to answer his own questions, he proceeded to Mrs. Benton’s. As he passed up the walk, disheveled, and with the makeup Dimples had loaned him plastered stickily across his cheeks, he met Sally and a carelessly dressed, taciturn appearing individual. Must be the fellow Mrs. Benton had s'aid was “sweet” on her. She passed Howell, gaily, with a flip of the hand and a nod so casual that it seemed premeditated. Only after her promise he couldn’t quite believe it Was that. The quiet little room over the garage received him like a mother. He fell, full length, across the bed. When he awoke it was almost 3 o'clock. For no reason at all he went downstairs to the door of the garage and looked up at Sally’s | window. A light was burning there. She ; had evidently just gotten in. Oh, well, it was no business of his. Bad j for her work, of course, to keep such j ridiculous hours. Even such marvel- | ous vitality as Sally Osbourne’s! couldn’t keep it up. .. . The next morning he sat on the j front porch for nearly an hour,! hoping she would appear. At 11:45 j she opened the door looking as if I she had just wakened from a long j

sleep. Her golden eyes were still bright with dreams, her skin had the white firmness of a freshly opened flower. And she cried, playfully, “Good morning, Howell! Want to take a little walk?” He fell into step beside her, feeling the beauty of the morning with a sudden, burning intensity. “Isn’t it a wonderful day?” they asked simultaneously. . “Where shall we go?” “Out the boulevard, of course,” Howell answered. "I can never get enough of it ” “I rather like that old street myself,” Sally admitted, slangily the fascination Hollywood has for you.” "Sometimes I wonder if you do,” he replied. For the first time since he had stood beside his father’s open grave he felt a desire to talk about him. Sally seemed unusually silent. She permitted him to direct the conversation and before he realized it he was relating the story of his life, from little boy days to the return of Jacqueline Bordini. Sally listened with a sort of pa'ssionate eagerness. “I can imagine you, Howell, sitting up so straight and dignified beside your father. What a darling little fellow you must have been.” “I was a little devil,” he assured her. earnestly. When he repeated the story of the unfortunate hen. Sally laughed until the tears stood m her eyes. “What fun your sister must have had, I envy her.” “I ruined every doll she had.” “That didn’t matter. It would have been worth sacrificing for. I suppose they’re dreadfully disappointed. Your mother and sister, I mean.” They had turned from the boulevard and were climbing Alta Vista Hill, into a deserted driveway before a vacant house. • “Let’s sit on the grass and listen to the birds.” suggested Sally. A bright glamor seemed to descend about her As they sat side by side. She lifted the hat from

—"Bv WWinm?

her flaming hair arid the sun beat upon it with a soft, fierce radiance. Her eyes were shining, amber pools, “Tell me some more,” she begged. “Why did you change your mind? I’ve always thought it would be wonderful to be a doctor.” “I thought so, too, until I realized how little it did for my father.” All the bitter, yearning pity he had felt and not been able to express poured forth in a torrent. He wanted her to feel the shabbiness, the humiliating lack of money, the plodding, patient persistence of his father’s life and the cruel injustice of his death. “Now.” he cried, “now you can see why I couldn’t let myself go on with a profession like that.” Her eyes were full of tears, but she answered quietly, “I think it was the most wonderful life in the world. How happy your mother must have been.” CHAPTER EIGHTEEN HOWELL was disappointed. For the first time since coming to Hollywood he had related the tragedy of his father’s life and Sally thought it was “wonderful.”

There seemed to be a hopeless lack of sympathy between them. He had asked her for bread and been given a stone. Well, there was nothing he could do, nothing more he could say. So he sat staring into space and saying nothing. “You’re disappointed in me, again aren’t you? You wanted me to feel as you do about it.” “That’s impossible, I guess.” “It is,” she agreed, sadly, “because to me service, plain living and clean thinking are of more importance than anything else. His life was filled with satisfaction, Howell. He knew the joy of giving and saving life. All those people who came and stood in line to do him honor. . . . My dear, what more could one ask?” She gazed at him, anxiously, tenderly. But Howell’ face was impassive and cold. The radiance which had flamed about her when they came was lost. When she put her hand upon his arm and cried. “I promised not to talk about this again, but since you’ve brought it up of your own accord you wouldn’t expect me not to be frank about it, would you?” No, he would never suspect Sally to be anything else but frank. “To me, Howell, it’s exactly as if you were selling your birthright for a mess of pottage.” That settled it. Howell rose. “I see. Well since that’s the way you feel about it, there’s no use discussing it, is there?” ’lt isn’t that I can’t see why you feel as you do. Only I think your line of reasoning is muddled,” Sally continued anxiously. “All right. I’m sorry I told you.” “Oh, Howell, please don’t say that.” “But I am. I shouldn’t have tried to get it across to you.” (To Be Continued)

The weird, savage cries of the panther mingled with Tarzan's own bloodcurdling ones. Akut had just time to leap to one side. The white ape clung tenaciously to the screaming, roaring, maddened beast. Relentlessly, Tarzan drove his knife through the glossy hide, until with a final lunge the great feline rolled over on its side and lay stilL

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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SALESMAN SAM

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THE BEASTS OF TARZAN

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Once again through the jungl? rang the wild challenge of Tarzan’c victory cry. Akut and the apes of Akut stood looking in startled wonder at the dead Sheeta and the lithe, straight figure of the man who had slain him. Tarzan was the first to speak: “Twice have I saved Akut’s life. When Akut or his tribe is in danger again let them call to Tarzan—thus i”

—By Martin

(\ WANNA GET SOMETHIN’ IS THERE. ANYTHING ELSE. PER. MY WIFE'S NECK - YOU WANT FOR. CHRISTMAS, _ __ s MADAM? ___ !/ 1 ( YOU’LL FIND I T OH.tAY YES*. ) I | CLOTHES lines tw ( I l SECOND AISLE \ \ T —" .. (*" '

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—and the ape-man raised the hideous cry with which the tribe of Kerchak had been wont to summon its absent members in times of peril. “And,” he continued. “W’hen they hear Tarzan call to them, Jet them remember what he has dene for Akut and come to him with great speed. Shall it be as Tarzan says?” From Akut and his tribe there rose a unanimous assent of satisfied grunts.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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By Edgar Rice Burroughs

La mnEV'**l

Presently the tribe went to feeding again as though nothing had happened. The glistening body of Lord Oreystroke mingled with the brown, shaggy hides of his companions as they hunted. He noticed that Akut, with a look of friendship in his small eyes always kept close to him. Sometimes, when Akut found a particularly tender • morsel, he would hand it to Tarzan. , „

-DEC. 23, 1929

—By Ahem

By I> <

By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan