Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 303, Indianapolis, Marion County, 30 April 1930 — Page 11

APRIL 30, 1930.

OUT OUR WAY

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IMAiyMIAJ DYJLIUE ANN THE P INDh PFN DFN^SYNDICArEj

SYNOPSIS MARY DEI,LA CHUBB Eighteen and everything vou could want In one young woman, works in the clock shop ana lives with her parents In a Bank street flat. Her best friend Is MARTIN BOBBIN. Her "steady company” is JOE SPEAKS. One of her erstwhile eager flames Is TIMMY FITZMOAN, ROBERT HENLEY CALK MAN 111 Tale footbal star and senior, and one of THE Calkmans of Detroit. He Is engaged to MARJORIE MARABEE. who lives on Craeker hill. His closest friend Is GEORGE MACKRAY. also of Yale Mi.ry Della goes to meet Joe Speaks In front of the postofTice. Joe fails to show up. She starts to cross the street and Is all but run down by a long yellow roadster driven by Robert Calkman W'ho tries to take her to St. Marv’s hospital. But Mary Della directs him past . the hospital and out East Main street. They park on the piece of old highway half-way to Cheshire. Robert asks if he may kiss her, and impulsively Mary Della turns out the car lights and throws her arms abbut his neck. A woman screams in the dark road ahead. Robert goes to investigate. Minutes later Mary Della turns on the lights and sees Robert and a woman, apparently dead, lying In the road and between them standing, a man In a red mask. She hides in the woods until the REID MASK leaves, then goes to Robert who Is only stunned. The woman is dead Murdered. Robert does not tell Mary Della who he Is. but tells her to call him Bob. , The next night Marv Della goes to the dance at Hamilton park, ana meets Joe Speaks, who persuades her to forgive and forget. They go for a ride on the Cheshire road. CHAPTER EIGHT (Continued) “Then what do you do? You get serious and start to talking sensible for a change; but before you’ve got very far. you're sore because I .don’t sit quiet and let you do all the talking. It’s not just this time that hurts: you've always acted like that. Do you follow me?’’ Silence. "Sorry I had to talk like a Sunday school teacher. Joe," Mary Della said at last, “but it's been on my chest a long time. Now. if it’s o. k. with you, we ll start out even.” "I guess you know,” Joe announced. "that I wouldn't take all that gaff from any other woman, don't you?” “I don't know what you’d do about it.” Mary Della replied, “as long as it was a woman.” "Plenty!" snapped Joe. “You got me twisted around your finger and you know it." u a Mary della thought of Timmy Fitzmoan and felt suddenly sorry for him. “Oh, well.” she said, "that's meant to be a compliment. Will it help any if I ask you what you started out to say back there? Something about how we get along together? We could get along a lot worse, Joe.” "Do you mean that. Mary Della?” "Os course, I mean it. You've been mighty sweet to me sometimes, Joe. Remember that lamp with the Chinese shade and hanging beads you sent around Christmas morning? It's still doing heavy duty on the center table.” "Honest?'’ "Sure. Even Mom's stuck on it, and she doesn't like you for sour apples. Joe.” "I know she doesn't. What's wrong with her?” "In nearly nineteen long .years, Joe. I haven't found a little thing wrong with Mom. She's about as near perfect as anything God ever made. But she thinks you ought to come around to the house instead of having me meet you downtown.” Joe mulled that over. “Think it'd help any. Mary Della, if I was to call around at the house some night Eoon?" "Would you, Joe?” Mary Della was genuinely moved. "You don’t know how much it would help. Joe. If Mom and Pop got to know you real well, they'd like you like I do. I know it.” “You do like me a little. Mary Della?” “I like you a lot! Gosh, what've I been running around with you so long for if I didn't?” Joe observed a decent silence to get the full benefit of that. “And . . .” he drew a full breath for the jump ... “a don't vou think it’s time m<* \ you was thinking about . t getting hitched. Mary Del. *\ T last.” said Ma. v *ella with a sigh; “that's thai. Now Joe. we've got something to work on. I knew what you were hitting at but until you said it. we couldn't talk about it. ould we? Now. just to be sure there's no mistake about it. I'll put it in different words: You asked me to marry you. didn’t you?” “That’s right.” Joe agreed. “And now it's your move."

“All right,” agreed Mary Della. “It’s my move. But I’ll tell you now, Joe, I'm not going to move in a hurry. You've been six months getting around to the question; I’ll need a little whit' to decide on the answer. Don’t get hot under the collar, now’, because I don’t say “yes” right off the bat. I don’t work like that. There’s plenty to think about and I want to khow we’re on the right track before we go ahead.” “I’m a good sport,” Joe admitted; “but don’t be too long deciding, . . . There’s that little piece of road I was telling you about ahead there. Looks like somebody’s coming out. You see, if you took too long to decide.” Joe was actually smiling at his own joke. “I might change my mind.” “That’d be tough,” said Mary Della, but her eyes were fastened on the two headlights coming out of that arc of abandoned road, “We aren't parking, remember . . .” The lights came on. She saw that the two cars would meet at the very point where the old road turned out. Then the other machine pulled into the highway in the full flood of Joe’s lights. Mary Della clapped a hand to her mouth to smother a scream. She heard Joe swear a vile oath, saw him craning his neck to get a better look at the car as it. swept past them, and the next instanc knew that the exceptionally long and exceptionally yellow roadster had disappeared in the direction of Waterbury. CHAPTER NINE Robert henley calkman. sat with some fifty other firsts, seconds and thirds of the country’s first families and tried to partially justify the outrageous annual expenditure necessary to keep a Calkman in Yale. Specifically, he w r as struggling with one of those typically simple Yale examination questhions that plainly are intended to humiliate the student and exalt the teacher. It was the tenth and last question. Robert swore roundly under his breath and wished that it were the last question he'd ever see. He ran his fingers through his hair. He glanced at George MacKray. but at that moment George wouldn't have inspired anything more profound than a suggestion that all colleges be abolished as impediments to progress. But gaze upon this much advertised problem that is causing so much mental sweat in Lampson hall: “Question 10. Who was the founder of scientific socialism, of whom was he a give a sketch of his life, enumerate his theories, arguments, proofs and compare each of the last three named with those of Henry Thomas Buckie, Friedrick Ratzel and William Z. Ripley.” Nothing to it. as you see, and pie for any one of Dr. Donovan’s bright high school boys; but it was a barrel of trouble for Messrs. Calkman and MacKray. Robert was—but perhaps you would be interested to know how the wheels operate in the head of a Yale senior who is sparring with the final question of the last mid-year examinations. Well, observe the relentlessly logical process of thought pursued by Robert Henley Calkman as he sits with elbow on the desk and chin on his fist: “These proofs give me a pain in the pancreas. . . . Whom does he think I am, Einstein or Thomas Nixon Carver? . . . George doesn’t look any too happy, but he never does when he’s trying to use his head. . . . Nor did I when I was using mine last night. . . . Boy! That Red Mask slugger certainly did give me a crack. ... I'd go through it again though to be with that kid . . . Man* Della . . . sweetest name I ever heard. . . . What a knockout she is. ... Marjorie’s sweet, too. . . . Marjorie’s going to marry me. . . . Have to* forget about Mary Della. .. . Have to forget about every one right now and concentrate. . . . Can't afford to flop this exam. . . . Old gent's expecting high marks . . . marks . . . marks . . . “Karl Marx was the founder of scientific socialism and . . . Robert

—By Williams

wrote rapidly, exultant at having solved the riddle. Knowledge is a splendid and beautiful thing and is full of such accidents. Robert left Lampson hall in high spirits. Examinations for him virtually were over. “Bob!” It was George. He caught up and gave Robert a slap on the back. “Wasn't that a crip? These examinations are really getting too simple, you know.” “Did you.” Robert asked, "answer the last question?” “Why not? A 10-year-old could have managed it. I was a little confused for a moment as to whether it was Lamarck or Lapough, and then I realized it couldn’t have been any one but ” “But Karl Marx?” Robert asked sweetly. George simultaneously snapped his fingers and made a gesture with his arm to indicate his utter disgust with himself. “By heaven, you're right. Bob, and I said Lapouge. Can you imagine that?” “Without the slightest strain.” replied Robert. “Come on up, I want to buzz your ear.” nan 'T'HEY went up to Robertas room -*■ in Harkness hall, carefully avoided all the chairs, and sat on the bed with their backs to the wall. “We’re less likely to be overheard in here,” Robert explained,, “and this is deep stuff.” He told George of his visit to the Marabee home and the success of his mission there: of his dramatic introduction to Man,’ Della, their ride and the memorable hour that followed. He confined himself to bare facts and carefully omitted any reference to the charms of Mary Della. “YOu damn fool!” George exploded. “You let that girl take you in, and then to make things worse, you go ploughing through the dark to mix in where you had no business.” “But I didn’t know’ the woman was dead, George. She w r as in trouble and the only decent thing to do was go to her. But this fellow in the red mask met me on the way.” “Didn’t you see him coming after you?” “You’ve heard of it being so dark you couldn’t see your hand held up before jour face? It w r as like that, George. I saw a dark form just before he cracked me and I know it was a man, but I didn’t have time to raise my arms.” “Serves you right,” declared George. “Hereafter, jou’ll steer clear of scheming young women and screams in the dark. If ” Robert held up a hand quickly. (To Be Continued)

THE SON OF TARZAN

Korak sighed, thinking of his own father and mother in far away London, as he waited lor the glad reunion of father and daughter. The Arab was striding softly toward the girl; now he stood directly behind her. With a start the child glanced quickly up. Korak. amazed, saw her great, dark eyes fill with terror, saw her try to crawl away, and 3aw the Arab’s cruel lips curl in a grim smile as he kicked and struck her brutally.

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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Cepyr>cHt. IWO. hy Et£ar Rice !c Afl

Above them, in the tree, a beast crouched where a moment before had been a boy—a beast with dilated nostrils and bared fangs—a beast that trembled with rage. The sheik was stooping again to reach for the girl when the Killer dropped to the ground at his side. Astonished by this sudden apparition out of the clear air, he took a backward step. Korak's clenched fist, backed by terrific power, landed full on his face.

—By Martin

,OEU NVE66E YfV A C'YeO.H , ( HAVE. - BUT ootm old svu.*r, \ TTHeY’Re. allom toe’ C 1... .1..,.. . .

Bleeding and senseless, the sheik sank to the earth. Korak turned to the girl, standing wideeyed and frightened. In an involuntary gesture of protection the Killer threw an arm about her shoulders and waited for the sheik to regain consciousness. He spoke to her in English, then in the ape’s language. She did not answer. Instead she made some motions. Korak understood her. She meant the sheik would kill her for this.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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By Edgar Rice Burrough l

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Then she came so his side again and stood * trembling. She did not fear him. Had he not saved her from a terrific beating? Never, in her memory, had another so befriended her. She looked into his face. It was a boyish, handsome face, nut-brown like her own. She admired thp spotted leopard skin that circled his lithe body from one shoulder to his knees; envied him the metal ornaments he wore. And wrak looked at the glrll

PAGE 11

—By Ahern

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowar