Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 204, Indianapolis, Marion County, 4 January 1930 — Page 13

JAN. 4, 1930.

OUT OUR WAY

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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT SALLY was right. The knowledge that they were In love, far from relieving the situation, made it seem more hopeless than ever. The most cheerful temperament is unable to resist the triple combination of thwarted ambition, undernourishment and disappointment in love. Howell no longer worried about food, because his former healthy appetite had disappeared. He smoked innumerable cigarets, drank a great deal of cofTee, and permitted the scowl on his once pleasant face to become permanent. He knew he was thinner, by the looseness of his clothes, but his face did not disturb him. At least, the uniforms he wore would be more comfortable. Work, however, was not so good again. For, several weeks after his illness he received no calls at all. Finally he felt compelled to go up to Centra Casting and complain about it; waiting with no interest in the others about him until his own name was called, approaching the gate with a sullen servility which would have been imposible a year ago. “Good morning, Mr. Collins. I w T ant to know why I’m not getting any work.” Mr. Collins sighed. “There isn’t much doing just now.” “I was sick for a while and missed a couple of calls. That wouldn’t make any difference, would it?” "No, that wouldn’t make any difference. If we wanted you we’d call you.” “I’ve telephoned in several times around 5 o'clock, but they always say nothing doing. I wonder if the boys in there get my name?” “They get it all right. They never miss one, Howell.” “80 many names coming in I thought maybe they might have forgotten me.” “They haven’t forgotten you. We can’t make work when there isn’t any,” Mr. Collins explained for the 9999th time. 0 0 0 AS Howell turned away he heard him saying. We aren’t taking registrations. If you had a letter from a director it would make a difference, of course. That wouldn’t be a guarantee of work, however.’’ "I'll say it wouldn't” grumbled Howell. He went down in the elevator, cursing his fate, remembering with irony what high hopes had been his the day he was registered. Nine months ago! His return ticket was no longer valid. Well, he was in the movies all right and he'd have to stay with it. But if he had realised what the real situation was He brought these thoughts to a sudden check. Wasn’t that the way they expected him to feel? His mother, Sally and all of them? He mustn’t let himself slip into the ordinary rut. He must be different. Squaring his shoulders with weary

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determination he decided to plug away at the inglorious art of being a policeman until the spell was broken. Some time, some way, he was still going to get a break. His name would appear on the front page of these same paper.*; the newsboys were selling. He found himself staring at two people descending from a sedan in front of the Guarantee building. With a touch of awe and something life relief he heard himself crying, “Jackie, Miss Bordini, I mean ” She recognized him graciously. Her brother, faultlessly attired, sulked by her side. “Raymond, you know Howell Sheffield, don’t you?” “Sure. How are you?" Perhaps to atone for the glumness of that greeting Jacqueline said: “I heard that you had come to Hollywood. Howell. What kind of luck are you having?” “Just fair. It isn’t as easy as it looks.” “It certainly isn’t,” she agreed. “I've only been back a couple of months. Come to see us, won’t you?” 808 BECAUSE he knew it was her old schoolmate and not the motion picture “extra” she w-as inviting. Howell blushed to the roots of his hair. “Thank you very much. I’ll be delighted.” Raymond stared into the distance while Jacqueline repeated her address. ‘Don’t forget now. We’ll be expecting you.” Could any one have been kinder or more herself than Jacqueline Bordini? But that brother of hers. The dirty snob! Howell prayed that some time he might be allowed to punch him in the nose. He called upon the following Sunday and found them out. Two weeks later he was permitted to be a policeman in Jacqueline's latest picture. He did not, of course, discover this until he was on the set. She recognized him sweetly as always, but the distance between them was bitterly apparent to the boy who once had condescended to take little Jackie Borden home. He knew too much of the cinema world by now to expect any help from her. Such favors as she was in a position to ask would be granted to the brother, who sat near her chair smoking cigarets with an effective air of boredom. And Howell vowed that so long as Raymond remained in Hollywood he would not call on the movie star again. He was in such a deplorable mental condition by the end of the day that He decided against returning to Mrs. Benton’s. The weeks following his illness had been unusually lonely, bereft of the company of Dimples, who seldom came to the room over the garage. With the rather dismal hope of finding him in. Howell went to his rooming house, his knock was an-

—By Williams

swered by a hilarious summons to enter. “Hello! How r 's the cop?” This being the only fellowship open to him in Hollywood, Howell received it gratefully. 808 HE drank his portion of gindoctored ginger ale, and when Dimples invited him to accompany him to a party a friend of his was “throwing,” accepted eagerly. “You’re sure it w r ill be all right?” “By the time we get there he won’t know who’s who. But I’ve got to leave early.” “The girl with a face like a flower?” mocked Howell. “The same,” Dimples admitted. “That baby is certainly crazy about me. Oh, boy—and how!” He stood before the mirror and examined his features approvingly. “Why don’t you get a girl, Sheff? That’s what you need.” “I haven’t any money to spend on women.” “Some of ’em are cheap enough.” Howell laughed. “Perhaps I haven’t your fatal technique with the fair sex, Dimples.” “ITiere may be something to that. Few can resist my tactics. And after I’ve loved ’em I leave ’em.” He indicated the box in its place on the table beside his bed. “Souvenirs of a thousand and one Hollywood nights!” “Yes, and I know them all by heart,” Howell interrupted. “You don’t know* anything about this one. You’ve been so snooty I decided I’d keep this one to myself.” “That’s your privileges,” grinned Howell. He knew the hardest thing Dimples ever had to do was to be compelled to keep his own counsel. The details of this latest affair would be out eventually with the usual embellishments. In his way Dimples was something of an artist. They took a car down town and walked several blocks to a disreputable looking hotel. Surprised at the neighborhood, Howell asked if this was where Dimples’ friend lived. “This is where he’s holding the party.” Dimples answered. “What’s the matter with it? You didn't expect to go to the Ambassador of the Biltmore, did you? Not at these prices, big feller!” Uneasily Howell followed him through the dingy lobby and up two flights of stairs. (To Be Continued) Forced Down at South Bend Bj/ Times Svccial SOUTH BEND, Ind., Jan. 4. Two Chicago aviators left the South Bend municipal airport Thursday afternoon with an airplane that had to be abandoned at the port because of the heavy snowstorm last week. The fliers continued to Detroit.

A giant of a white devil had wrested Kaviri's spear from him; hairy monsters were overcoming, his fighting men. and a black chieftain, like himself, was fighting shoulder to shoulder with that hideous pack of apes. The gh he fought bravely, it was useless against the superhuman strength and agility of this mighty white man. who was slowly choking the breath of life from him.

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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MOM’N POP

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THE BEASTS OF TARZAN

When he regained consciousness, Kaviri found himself securely bound in the bottom of his canoe. A great panther sat upon his haunches looking down upon him. Beyond the panther kneeled the white giant who had overcome him. The man was wielding a paddle, while behind him Karviri saw some of his own warriors similarly engaged Back of them squatted several of the hairy apes.

—By Martin

Kaviri was now only too glad to comply with any demands the ape-man might make, if only he and his remaining warriors would be taken back to their village. The three canoes moved steadily up river, though at every moment Kaviri’s warriors expected to be pounced on and tom asunder. During the trip Tarzan talked with the chief and became greatly puzzled over Kaviri's words.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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WHAT ON EADTH ADC ACTED V/HAT AUNT IHAT HAD THAT OLD AVO j ,r jDdiving at. you DON’T N Amy said about depdodate. dead too \ vou -• s a vwole lc; ’ BY any Chance have TwEy youd uncle chaduc tv.idty yeads.gotto/ op wcle Chadl'e in IDEA THAT l HAVE A / \ Coo LD BEUF.VC DO V/ITH ME GOING / YOU AND k'JNT AMY SAID J>ATC WITH A Flapped most anything yto see a. sek /his v.te vA the last ' ?. PCOSON TO FIND

By Edg-ar Rice Burroughs

“White man very bad,’’ said Kaviri. “I try to kill him first. Three moons ago came wicked white men to my village: they took our goats and young women. They kill many of my people. They say they hunt another white man. with white woman and little white baby who run away from them.” “The child must be my little son.” thought Tarzan. But who could the woman be —and the man?

PAGE 13

—By Ahern

—By Blossey

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan