Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 311, Indianapolis, Marion County, 9 May 1930 — Page 20

PAGE 20

OUT OUR WAY

f A >NEE*', MiMD VOO ! 1 l\ MEAPSV-/ A WHO\.e WEEK \ f : J if ,0 V nj mv Cue am Bed wrTH \ fuK a i —OH wom't -ThePE J k / V /(| I ■— BE A UVVLE MiGHTuV / i) J /I) jl ‘ ime>pectom fpom mow / y /J V I I rj \ OM. OomT VOO OAPE J* UJ) J \ B\Te. \m Two -v | | } ; ** JRvViULiMa^ Heroes are made —mot Borh . res u s pat.off. ,01930 bynea service,inc.

IMABtfmZAI _' 3l juue Ann Moore THE* INDE PENDE N^^N^C^gJ

SYNOPSIS MARY DELLA CHUBB The best look- * ins; ciorker In the clock shop. If not in Waterburv. Lives with her parents in a Bank street bat. MIRIAM ROBBIN Limited in S. A., but Mary Della's best Kiri friend; also a docker. JOE SPEAKS—Marv Della's steady, young man about town, good looking and hard-boiled. ROBERT HENLEY CALKMAN 111 Yale senior and football star, one of the Calkmans of Deifolt. GEORGE McKRAY He wanted to go to Harvard but the cards were against him; also a senior at Yale. Happy-go-lucky is George. MARJORIE MARABEE Daughter of fashion, living on Cracker hill. Fiancee of Robert. TIMMY FITZMOAN—Petting is his Specialty. In love with Marv Della. OLGA SVENSON —Also a docker and not too popular with arv one. Marv Della and Robert are parked on the old piece of highway off the Cheshire road when a woman is murdered by the Red Mask in the darkness ahead of their car. They leave the body and decide to say nothing about it, to protect themselves. But after three days Mary Della writes an anonymous note to the police telling about the murder and pnd where the body is. The American carries the story under glaring headlines the next dav. but says the police could not find the body. Brett Younger has written a musical comedv called "The Clock Shop dockers" in which Mary Della is to be the lending lady. . , , . Marv Della discovers that she has lost the letter written her by Bob and irom which she tore a piece of paper to write the police about the murder. CHAPTER FIFTEEN (Continued) “First, click your heels; then raise your right hand, like this. If you were dancing with a partner, it would be all the same, except he would have to raise his left hand, of course. Now you walk straight ahead, four or five steps—it doesn't matter as long as you get of! on the proper foot. Then you take one step to the left, quick and snappy; then one step to the right the same way, and stamp your feet, one-two-three, like that. Now two steps forward again, two steps backward. Then sway to the left, to the right; now rock, forward, backward. Then begin all over again, see?’’ "That's the kittens!” declared Olga. “That’ll sure make a big hit. Mary Della.” “And now. Mary “Delia, if Olga will play this. I'll try to sing the song. It's got a catchy tune.” tt tt tt OLGA a seat at the upright piano with its pink silk-lined scroll work in front and ran over •The Clock Shop Clock.” “Say. that is a wow,” she exclaimed as she came to the last note. “Ready, Brett?” And Brett, who really had a pleasing baritone voice, sang for the first time "The Clock Shop Clock.” Like most of the present day words as they appeared on Brett s handwritten copy: “Click vour heels, girls—Raise vour hand. Walk straight ahead -Ain't life grand! One step left—One step right; Now stamp vour feet —G-o-o-d night! Two steps forward —Hold vour boy; Two steps backward —O-o-o-h Joy! Now you sway—Now you rock. That's the snappy dance they call the Clock Shop Clock!" CHORUS And the second verse: “Do It over—This way. see? Make 'em click —Wh-o-o-p-pee! Straight ahead—left and right; Stamp 'cm hard—Barnum was right; Now it's forward—Do vour stuff: Now it's backward—Don't get rough! Swav and sway -Rock and rock— That's the snappy dance they call the Clock Shop Clock. And the chorus: “Tick! Tock! Tick! Tock! Mary Delia, with a brand new fellow. Am t he handsome? Ain't she sweet? Wonder how them two come to meet? Never saw a sweller couple on the floor. Come, on .sheik-band, play some more! Tick! Tock! Tick! Tock! Watch 'em dance; Watch 'em prance! Watch 'em sway I Watch 'em rock! Don't they do a demon Clock Shop Clock!" The first rehearsal was over. * U C tt "TTONEY,” said Miriam, as they Ji hurried along West Main street, “you don't know what a killing you're going to make with that song and everything. Believe me, if I had your voice and your legs. Id get a job on the stage.” "I'm not aching for anything I haven't got,” Maty Della replied. “And I could do without a lot I have got.” "It seems to me." said Miriam, as they crossed Prospect street, “it seems to me. honey, you'd be better off if—oh. boy! Look at that yellow baby leaning against the curb.” Mary Della turned her head carelessly and walked on. Then she looked back again, and caught Miriam’s arm. “Miriam . . . Miriam . . . It’s Bob's . . That's Bob's car . . . !” “No wonder you let it hit you. darling,’ Miriam remarked irrelevantly. “I'd let that chariot run over me any time. Where you going. Mary Della? . . . There's nobody in there. Come on.” But Mary Della had opened the

j door of the exceptionally yellow I roadster and was getting in. “Go on . . . Miriam . . . I’ve got to se him ... So long.” She slid down in the seat until only her little blue felt hat was visible. CHAPTER SIXTEEN THE revolving doors of the Elton suddenly spun with a loud hiss and, one by one, discharged two young men, two rather tall, rather large and shapeless young men. The raccoon coats may have been responsible for this illusion. Together they approached the car, and when they were not more than three feet away, Mary Della quickly sat up and turned her face toward them, “Mary Della ” “Bob!" “Darling! . . . How long have you been here ... in the car?” “Pardon me, old man,” said the second young man, slowly withdrawing, "but I’ve got a little business to attend to. I’ll be back in the hotel lobby in an hour. But don’t hurry. I’ll wait for you." “George!” Robert called in a stern voic. “Come here.” George turned obediently and saunterp * back to the car. “You y never have another opportui...y like this, George,” Robert smiled. “I want you to meet— Me.ry Della, may I introduce my best friend. George MacKray? . . . Miss Chubb, George.” Charmed,” said George, and gr sped the little hand held out to him. “Glad to meet you,” Mary Della replied. “Your must be o. k. if you're a friend of ... of his.” She glanced at Robert. “Good Lord,” George exclaimed, staring at the smiling face turned up to him. still squeezing the hand she had offered . . . “But you are pretty ... I apologize, Bob, I thought you had exaggerated . . . but I see it wouldn’t have been possible.” “Did you say you had an appointment?” Robert asked, laughing. "You might give me that letter.” “Oh, er—w r hy, yes, of course.” George released Mary Della's hand and drew a sealed envelope from his pocket. “And don’t forget, I’ll be in the hotel lobby when you’re ready, and next week will do.” He bowed to Mary Della, walked rapidly across the street and entered the path leading through the Green to Leavenworth street. Robert got into the car and pressed the starter. "Where to, child?” “Straight out,” Mary Della replied. “WeTl do the loop through Woodbury and Watertown. That'll give us plenty of time to chew the fat,” a tt tt OUT West Main street they rode, to Watertown avenue, up West side hill and out on the Middlebury road, without speaking or.ee. “Bob ...” as they passed Country Club road and left the last street behind ... “I couldn’t help it. I had to see you. When I saw your car. I . ; “Are you apologizing for something?" Robert wanted to know. “I'm almost happy, Mary Della; don’t spoil it.” “Then you aren't sore at me for writing the police? . . .” “Foolish girl ... I'd have been very much disappointed in you if you hadn’t. And you made such a corking job of it. too. They'd never in this world will be able to trace it back to you. And the police are clever.” “But you don’t know the worst ... I lost your note, Bob. It was the other half of the sheet I wrote the letter to the police on. . . .” Robert kept his eyes on the road ahead. If the police came into possession of his note and put the two together “Listen. Mary Della ...” “Yes ...” “There's nothing you can say just now that will worry me in the least. If that note ever turns up again—which I seriously doubt—and they put the two pieces together. I'll go to the police and make a clean breast of the whole tiling." “But you can’t. Bob. You said there were reasons why your name couldn't be dragged in, and I’d sooner go to 'em myself than ” “Os course you would, sweetheart—and make a despicable of me. Oh, I know you wouldn't give me away. I knew that the first night, i Bu I’m not as bad as that, child. Your name is the one that mustn't

—By Williams

get to the police, and I’ll hang before it does.” * “Bob! Don’t talk like that. Just to talk about hanging makes me jumpy.” a tt tt SOME distance to the right the park buildings of Quassapaug, dark, silent, deserted, slipped by. Mary Della thought of the resort as it would be when summer came and wondered whether she would ever be able to enjoy its amusements again. “By the way,” said Robert, “You’re probably curious as to what George and I were doing in the hotel. . . “Not a bit,” lied Mary Della. “Well, you should be. I went there to write you a note. George was to drop it on the landing before your door as we went out.” “Did he leave the other one?” “Yes. . . . And that reminds me that I’ve a confession to make. It should ease your conscience about losing the note. ... I felt as you did about the—that woman .... and I asked George to drive over there and see if she was still there.” “But there’s nothing to cry about there .. .” And then she remembered. An exceptionally long and exceptionally yellow car coming out of the road . . . “Oh, Bob! How mixed up everything is. You’re going to tell me that someone saw your car leaving the road.” “Well, if that isn't mind reading, I give it up.” “No, Bob ... I was one of the two people who saw it.” “You ... Os course. No, I should say it is all quite simple, child. You had gone to ride with—with a friend, of course. I wasn’t using my head, that’s all. Did you tell your friend about . . He left the sentence unfinished. “We'll pretend you didn't start to ask that, Bob.” There was a harsh note in Mary Della's voice that made Robert think of that first night when she stepped out of his car and threatened to beg a ride home. “I'm sorry .... darling. That wasn’t an honest question because I knew the answer before I asked it. But—Oh, hang it! I just never thought of you being out with any one else before, Mary Della, and I .suppose it hurt just a little. . . . You see how selfish I am? Dog in the manger, or something like that. Will you forgive me?” “But why, Bob? Don’t you want me to—to have men friends?” She was watching his expression closely, apparently afraid of what he was about to say. “Silly!” said Robert, avoiding her eyes. “Certainly I do. That is, I would, if it were any of my affair. But you see, it isn’t. You do see that, don’t you? The very idea is absurd, Mary Della. Os course you should have men friends, lots of; them . . . and one in particular, as other girls do.” “I have,” shortly. “He was with me the night I saw your car.” “I’m glad you have, Mary Della. It’s only natural—and right. And if you like him, I know he must be a fine young man and deserves his good fortune . . (To Be Continued)

THE SON OF TARZAN

Korak knew something serious had happened. He called, but no Meriem answered. In the distance the jabbering of the monkeys was growing fainter. Korak swung rapidly ill their direction, soon overtaking the rearmost. At sight of him they fell to screaming anew, pointing downward ahead of tf.em. A moment later he came in sight of the cause of their rage. His heart stood still as he saw the limp body of the girl across ,;4 V „ .

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

/#.% YET- WES LONS CHRISTMAS' J ' X>E-AFRAID WES |y^.U., 5 M BETTER REFUEL -'TTTVJV -. ' _

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

SfiS iHYvWii (jOl\ CHE AT A TIME....OWING HEAP FIRST THRO THE- MARROW ENTRANCE'. SIT, SEVEN, EIGHT OF THEM'. AND FOUR TiMES AS MANY ttORE, WAvTiMS AMO EAGER.

SAVAGES C EACH i-THE ~ *■' cave// HOWUN6* TRIUMPHANT' DEAD AND WOUNDED APE eVERVwMEVE! WASH AMD EASV shoot Till their 61)NS ARE EMPTIED. COULDN'T STOP ’EM 1 .

SALESMAN SAM

r GW\, PA*ME.R HICKS WANTS Will He. BtTe. OR. KlckT^ Sa tm uolo his Hos.se. , mr.Hicks'? WHiLe HR's ISAAXIU’ (V OTTmTrNr-j -1— PURCHASE.- iilljllllip// f MGVS.R. KMew

MOM’N POP

THERE'S ONE OH )/&DASSHOPPERS* THCX’BeT GRASSHOPPERS!! AIT* HAD YOUPBACkIoh /( ALL OVER. UOIN DID f BOX PULL OF THEM THIS // CHILD ; yTHEY GET MORNING. YOU OUGHT TO TALK TO MW^SHOPPEPS

That she was dead he did not doubt! There arose within him something he did not try to interpret; but all at once his whole world seemed centered in that tender, graceful body hanging so pitifully limp and helpless across the bulging shoulders of the ape. He knew then that Meriem was his sun, his moon, his stars—with her going had gone all light, and warmth, and happiness. A groan escaped his lips; and after that a series of hideous roars.

—By Martin

filllllllllHlllllln’ ( W£LL,WILL UR T77Mo,- , T ““I S. RUM H>WPiY ? / SIR<E.e. .

He dropped like a plummet in mad descent toward the fleeing ape. The bull turned at the first sound of this new and menacing voice and as Korak saw his ugly visage anew flame was added to his rage For the creature before him was none other than the king ape who months before had driven the Killer from the great anthropoids to whom he had looked for friendship. And at the same instant the king ape recognized Korak!

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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r " \ 1 '-'"V \r t \ /i ~ YESTERDAY SHE WAE, OUT \ SHE'S ,IN THE STREET IN A MUD- I OUST /PUT THIS TURTLE \ 1 if HOLE SHOUTING OUT EVERY I ARID, (IN THE BATH-TUB? J I l i THING SHE KNOWS ABOUT (AFTER 7 V WHERE'S AMY? J\ \ \ I THE FAMILY RIGHT BEFORE.) ALL-YOU A\\ \ \ I THOSE NEW NEIGHBORS. / HAVETBE 'MQv'‘4a/ \ N V / SHE OUGHT ABE ■ —T 'kIASY ON 11 (i!# V VnV\\\ Yl/IIT

(MIIIMlWlfmr:! . f them why th heck Y U 3 S-T 0° I HAPTA HOLD J c 1 930 by HtA~seßvK : r. ~ ~ i-'* afj

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Copyright. IMO. by Edgar Rica BUrrougfca. Inc. AO rigbta raaarbad. MAJWN

Dropping his prize to the ground, with lowered head h® rushed headlong for this smoothskinned creature who was daring to question his right to his prey. Down they went, tearing and striking. Korak forgot his knife. Rage such as his could only be satisfied by the feel of hot flesh between rending fangs. He was fighting for a woman of his own kind. It was then Meriem opened her eyes: “Korak,” she cried, “My Korak 1” - ! -f

MAY 9, ,4930

—Jiy Ahern

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan