Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 76, Indianapolis, Marion County, 7 August 1930 — Page 11

ATTG. 7, 1930.

OUT OUR WAY

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■KnOBMIT BY KATHLEEN NORRIS COPYRIGHT, 1930, liftkA BELL SYNDICATE

CHAPTER TWELVE (Continued) •■TITE know that you are marW ried, Mr. Hutchinson,” the mild voice of Mrs. Palmer said suddenly, “and that ought to be enough! He- is married, baby,” she added, with all her love and yearning. for the runaway in her face. ‘T know it, mamma!" Beatrice said quickly. But her voice broke, and she began to cry as she faced him. "You’re all against Sidney! You all hate him!” she sputtered. "Dan is jealous of him—yes, you are, Dan! And Patricia—co you think I don’t know that you and he were engaged?” she demanded tearfully. turning toward the other girl. "Now—now —now you’ll blame him for this! And it was my fault—it was my fault—it was because I couldn’t bear—l couldn’t bear—to have him go away! I don’t care about anything else —I don't care, I tell you! And evading her brother, she. went Into Sidney's arms and clung there, and as he put his own about her and faced the others over the little buried head, Patricia saw tears In his eyes. For a space they were all silent, except the sobbing girl- About them the snow fluttered and fluttered; the watching W'cods were without a sound. Mrs. Palmer took out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “There is nothing I can say,” Sidney began after a while. "I’ve cared for her ever since I met her. I hoped that after a time I would be free and might copie back for her. This morning, when we started riding. we had no idea of this—it just flashed across us when we were talking, and the rest followed. “Don't cry. dear,” he said tenderly. “You’d better go back with the others, and some day ” “I won’t.” Beatrice said, on a sob. “Do you think I am going back to have Dan bully me and —and scold me?” she said, with one angTy giance over her shoulder. “I thought you were going to the Throekmortons?” she finished resentfully. “We saw some of them set the station.” I “So we were,” Patricia supplied. “And I am afraid there will be talk about this.” she added to Dan. in a worried undertone. “You see, they saw her. It’s unfortunate." "I don’t care what they think,” Beatrice said scornfully. "But it Is so unnecessary,” Patrieia protested mildly. “You and Sidney could wait. You could have announced your engagement some time in the spring. It would have meant that you saved your mother a good deal ” a .a. a IT’S easy enough to talk!” Beatrice muttered childishly- But she spoke in a softened tone, and gave her mother a mollified glance. “You could have had a lovely wedding,” Patricia pursued, seeing that she was making an impressien, “and you would have been envied bv all the girls In Deerbridge.” ‘“Well, that's what we are going to-do!” Beatrice exclaimed. "You mean that you will go home, like a sensible girl, and talk it over with your mother!” Patricia said, too soon. Beatrice drew a long sobbing breath, cave her brother and Patricia a scornful glance and, still clinging to Sidney's arm, looked sulkily down. Patricia looked at Sidney. She had never seen him at a disadvantage before. She seemed undecided between bravado and apology. Suddenly Beatrice flung herself Into her mother's arms and burst out crying childishly. “Mama, believe in me—mama's sorry for me!” “Sidney,” Patricia said in a quick undertone, “the train will be here in a few minutes. Why don’t you take Beatrice and her mother home? You can have dinner and talk things over. I’ll go home with Dan in the car—or rather.” s’ -5 added, as even the sobbing Beatrice showed signs of interest, "or rather, Dan and I ought to go to the Throckmorton party. “If none of us comes, my aunt surely will suspect something. How far is Mountainhead, Dan? Isn’t it right over this ridge? We could easily make It in time for tea!” Tea!” Beatrice echoed scornfully. “Ah, well, you had lunch!” Patricia protested. And suddenly they were all laughing. Five minutes later three of the *• u *

train. Beatrice swept in without a glance for her brother, but Mrs. Palmer kissed Patricia good-by and the men touched hands. CHAPTER THIRTEEN. PATRICIA was smiling as she went back to the car. Her pulses were thrilling from the recent excitement, from the glimpse of a great passion. "How far is it, Dan?” she asked, through a rift left for her eyes and mouth in the wrappings of fur rugs. "About twenty miles. We ought to be there at 5:30,” he answered contentedly, as they swept away from Pembertons and followed a fairly good dirt road up through the trees. The snow was falling in good earnest now and the darkness with it. But Dan's powerful headlights cut through the confusing curtain of gray and Patricia saw they were making more than twenty miles an hour even on the grade. “You know the cabin, do you?” “Oh, yes! And it’s .-eally a mile this side of Mountain! lead, so that we can begin to look ior it as soon as we’re over the hill!” “This is a blizzard!” Dan presently observed“But don’t you love it?” the exultant voice at his side answered, and a moment later the girl added, “Here, Dan—this is the turn!* “In thirty-two minutes from Pemberton!” he boasted. He turned the car under the great trees, where the road already was marked by fresh wheel tracks. The cabin came into view in the white light of the lamps. It was dark, deserted, tenantless. “For heaven’s sake ” Patricia began. “They’re not here!” “This isn’t the place?” Dan suggested. “Isn’t the place?” she echoed scornfully. “Why, I know every inch of it! And look, Dan, there are the boxes on the porch!” It was now quite dark. Leaving the car light burning, they floundered through the snow to the porch. Here, sure enough, were boxes and bundles, all plainly marked for -Mrs. Cecil Throckmorton. But the windows of the cabin gave back only the furred and peering twe, with their flashlight. n a a THE wind sighed about tlv corner of the cabin; blanches creaked far above their heads; silently, swiftly, the snow continued to fall. Patricia began to feel cold, tired and hungry. “What sort of station is Mountainhead, Patricia?” “Oh, nothing at all! There’s no station. Trains stop on signal, that’s all.” “Ninety miles from Deerbridge, in this blizzard,” Dan mused. “I don’t believe it could be done! I don’t think it would be safe.” “Still, we'll have to try It, Dan,” Patricia urged anxiously, “We can’t stay here.” "And suppose we run out of gas or a spring breaks in these drifts.” he objected. “Then you undoubtedly would die.” “So would you,” Patricia said, with

spirit. “Here.” he continued, eying the inhospitable cabin, “no harm could come to you. I suppose there are doors with keys in them. You needn’t worry.” He was talking half contemptuously, half absently, as he might have talked to an unreasonable child, and meanwhile measuring the resistance of the windows and the door. In the end he wrenched a plank from the window, broke a pane with one blow of a leatherclad fist and reached • inside for a catch. A moment later he sprang into the dark room and opened the door to let her in. Patricia walked hesitatingly into the pitch blackness and blank cold of the interior. She was beginning to have t sort of frightened admiration for him. “There’s a lamp, Dan,” she raided him. “And there is a 1 atchet in the cellar, I know. We c.in open the boxes and then use them for the fire.” “Now you’re a sport.” he answered, and in the light of the match he held she saw his boyish grin. A smoky lamp and a smoky fire revealed to them the large room that, with a tiny kitchen adjoining,,

—By Williams

PATRICIA, hungry and weak, eyes smarting and throat sore from the smoke, feet freezing cold, worked valiantly. She scattered blankets about on chairs to air, and as he piled groceries and carefully packed meats upon the table, she fed tne fire with whatever was inflammable. Gradually the blessed heat began to make itself felt, and to penetrate their very bones. Patricia cleared one end of the table and opened a great glass jar of soup. "With coffee and soup, we needn’t penetrate that icy kitchen,” she submitted. "Open that can of cream; let us eat. I have never, in the course of twenty-seven years, been so hungry.” “In the course of twenty-five I never have been so happy,” he-said. “Is it twenty-five?” Patricia, stooping over the coffee-pot, turned to ask. “Last August, the tenth.” “Dan! But that’s my birthday, too.” She smiled delightedly over the coincidence as she poured the smoking coffee. “Isn’t this wonderful?” she rejoiced. "Up here in the very heart of the forest, warm and comfortable, and eating such,.wonderful food! I feel as if .I had been reduced to—to lower, terms, put in a different gear!” . . • . . . “Let’s settle this business of—keys,” Dan said, when the meal was somewhat advanced, and mere hunger was not the uppermost emotion with both. “What arrangement was your aunt to make?” he asked. “The other cabin, where all the bunks are, is just about a hundred yards up the trail,” she answered. ‘She was going to put the men here, on these couches, I think, and have the six women up there.” “Suppose we take a look at it,” he suggested, rising. “I want to get the car under coyer, too.” a a a _ THEY went together to the door, and opened it to a gust of snowy air. Patricia, stepping from the cabin’s comparative light and warmth into the cold and darkness, shuddered. The wind was howling bitterly, the air was full of stinging partcles of fine snow, which fell steadily. They floundered down to the car, cold, shaken, exhausted again, the work of the last two hours instantly undone. “No use, we can’t move her,” was his verdict on the car. “We should have died in this, Dan,” Patricia shouted, her lips close to his ear. “You bet we would,” he answered fervently. Patricia began to entertain very lively fears that they would die as it Was, even with the faint red light of the cabin window a hundred feet away. It seemed impossible that anything human could live under this terrible sky and these great trees, trapped and smothered by the wet, cold softness of the snow : . (To Be Continued)

TARZAN AND THE JEWELS OF OPAR

It was many marches from Opar to the Waziri country, but at last came the hour when Tarzan and the Belgian, following the trail of the warriors, topped the last rise and saw before them the broad plain, the winding river and forest of Tarzan s estates. Some distance before them the line of warriors was creeping like a giant caterpillar through the tall grasses of the plain. Grazing herds of zebra, hartbeest and topi dotted, the .level landscape.

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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Taman looked out across the familiar vista with no faintest gleam of recognition in his eyes. Werper, however, did! A puzzled expression entered his eyes. He shaded them with his palms and gazed long and earnestly toward the spot where the bungalow had been. He could not credit his sense—there was no bungalow—no bams nor corrals! All were gone. What could it mean? And then, slowly, Werper found the explanation—Achmet Zek had been there!

—By Martin

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The Waziri warriors, too had noted the devastation. They hastened on talking excitedly until they stood before the ruins of their master’s home. And there among the charred bodies and prowling hyenas, the frightful story was made clear to them and they rent the air with percing yells of rage. “The Arabs did this!” cried Basuli, their leader, as his men clustered about him. “They have taken our women and lady’!” (Thus they had always called Lady Greystoke.)

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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By Edgar Rice Burroughs

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

n- .....

From the shelter of the reeds along the river, Tarzan and Werper watched the blacks. They saw them dig a trench with their knives and fingers; then lay their yellow burden in it and scoop the earth over the buried gold. Tarzan seemed little interested after Werper assured him that that which they buried was not good to eat, but Werper gloated as if this buried treasure were already his. And now If he could but gain possession of Tarzan’s Jewels. HE MUST! HE WOULD! -* . •

PAGE 11

—By Aliern

—By Blo&ser,

—By Crane

—By Small