Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 77, Indianapolis, Marion County, 8 August 1930 — Page 8

PAGE 8

OUT OUR WAY

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BKIWHOHr BY< KATHLEEN NORRIS COPYRIGHT, 1930, htfike SELL SYNDICATE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (Continued) She helped him fasten some flapping robes over the engine, every movement they made dislodging the lightly packed snow Shaking, trembling, they fought their way back to the porch again, slipped and stumbled to the door, tugged it open, and stood shuddering and cramped before the fire. “I think that had better end any talk of the other cabin,” Patricia said, when she could speak again, and the incredible process of gettirfg warm had been renewed. •'You would have to drag wood up there, and keep .tooth fires going. I doubt if w e could find it in the dark, anyway. I hope we are safe here!” “What could happen to us here?” he asked sensibly. “We have plenty of food and plenty of wood.” And quite naturally he added: “Can you make yourself comfortable on that settee, do you think? If you want to go to sleep, 111 watch the fire.” "Does one of us have to stay awake?” she demanded. “Oh. no! I meant that I'd fix myself a bed here beside it,” he answered, and for a few minutes nothing more was said. Patricia cleared the table, stacking her supplies neatly for the morning; Dan made icy and breathless journeys to the cellar for wood. a a a THE fire crackled and leaped; green sap bubbled from the ends of the great logs. The candles wavered in little drafts that crept in; the lamp burned steadily in its glass chimney. • Inside,* Dan and Patricia smiled at each other from their big chairs by the fire. Outside the blizzard howled and whimpered, and the snow piled itself softly over the world, and over the stalled motorcar. and the tiny cabin hidden away In the forest of Mountainhead. More than once, in the long I?training and buffeting of the wild night, Patricia awakened, in her deep nest of robes and pillows, and looked about her. Always the scene was the same. The fire burned steadily, and beside it lay Dan on an improvised couch of cushions. The light of the flames touched warmly here and there. Shadows massed and bnjke again in the corners of the room. Outside the storm raged on. Branches cracked, once a tree fell, with a slow rising crescendo of sound. Patricia, turning drowsy eyes toward the side window, could see that the snow actually was creeping up against the pane. They were snowbound.

She looked at Dan. or rather at the tumbled hair and the one line of brown cheek and firm jaw that w ere visible as he slept. And when 6he looked her eyes narrowed into a smile that had something maternal in its affectionate indulgence, and a dimple deepened in her cheek. Dan, the barbarian, Dan, the plebeian. was still Dan. the realest man she had ever known. Her magnificent father, her Cousin Harry, Sidney. and all the males of the tribe of Eyres and Chambers and Pages, had been men of one type; educated, affected, arrogant, sure of certain facts in life, indifferent to the viewpoints of other people. And Sidney had belonged to them; distinguished by his genius and his poverty, he had nevertheless made their standards his own. When Sidney assumed evening dress, when he presented his hostess with flowers, when he escorted a group of women to a box party at the theater, he merely was one more eligible man among the others. mam D— AN was different. Society had ■ attracted him merely because it t. .and epudiated him. He had, in a blunt n<t angry fashion, forced certain doors; he had tired quickly of the game. The moment—and the girl had seen it arrive—when Deerfcridge's nicest set had seen fit to accept Dan Palmer was also the moment when in rudeness and boredom and disillusionment he had lost all Interest in what it bad to offer. What did he want? Patricia mused, watching him asleep. He had said that he preferred his Dexter cows to the Entre Nous, and at different times be had mentioned that he would like to "sail up the Nile,” camp out for six months in some Canadian forest, where there were Indians, ami “live for a

while among the workers in a mining city to get the thing straight.” These would be strange dwelling places for the last of the Chese,broughs. But she knew now that wherever he was, there, here, happiness would be. Or was it happiness, this pain and hunger and eagerness,' this boldness and shyness, this alternate fever and chill? Certainly Patricia had not been all happy in these last few days, when it had rapidly and amazingly come to her that Dan was all her world. She had still seen him for what he was outwardly, restless and <.rude, ignorant of the code of her w-'rld. But that code had been dropping from her of late. She knew how swiftly all doors would open to Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Smith Palmer; how soon aunts and cousins would forget everything but the millions, and turn the machinery of their ostracism upon some other unfortunate aspirant! And fifteen years from now, perhaps, Christine's daughter, and Dorothy's daughter, and little Patricia Palrner would be softly discussing the absurdity of the Smith girls’ or the Brawn girls’ social audacities. a a a THE half-formed thought of that visionary daughter sent a thrill through her being, and made her heart stop. Dan’s wife—the mother of this strong man’s children. For, of course, that was her life. It mattered not where she spent it, or what pain and change it brought her. The only thing that mattered now was that she could hear, all day, every day, that boyish and yet curiously authoritative voice, and be free to advise, praise, blame, and share everything that he did. The mere bracing association with him had already had its effect upon her. Dan, in his almost violent interest in life, somehow had vitalized her own. He. had taken her, just in this last month, to places of whose existence she never had even dreamed before; once to a wrestling match, once to a mass meeting/of street car strikers, once to a city hospital where a girl of her own age lay dying by her own hand. From a waitress in the little restaurant into which they had gone smiling for a meal, he had wrested the story of her life; from policemen on crossings, ushers at the theater, dull-eyed boys who slouched forth to pump gasoline into the car, Patricia began confidently to expect entertainment when she was with Dan. Tonight, sitting opposite him beside the fire, as the talk had for a while dropped to silence, she had indulged in a little dream; she had seen another cabin somewhere in the woods, years from now. If she had shared her dream, he gave her no sign. For he had sprung to his feet abruptly and had said: “Well, I'll go into the kitchen, and when you're comfortable, call me. Don’t hurry, for I’ve got to bring up enough wood for the whole night.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN PATRICIA, wrapped in a Chinese robe, had open-id the kitchen door fifteen minutes later, and had been driven by cold currents of air back to her pillows and robes. From this retreat she had watched him gravely as he Brought in the wood. And when the door was shut and he had busied himself with his own cushions and blankets, she still secretly had watched him from under deceitfully lowered lashes. But after a while he sat down to watch the blaze, and then the girl actually had fallen into a peaceful sleep, not to awaken for many hours. She dressed in the icy kitchen, shuddering at the touch of snow water on her face, her shoulders hunched and her fingers clasped with the cramp of the bitter cold. Shuddering, she went back to the hearth, when* the fire had sunk to pink-gray ashes, and was trying feebly to rekindle it when Dan suddenly sat up. His big arm, in its black Japanese wrapper, was helping her before he was fairly awake. . " What are you trying to do? Why didn't you wake me?” he protested. "You're dressed! What time is it anywajtff

—By Williams

“Your watch says 9,” Patricia said, with chattering teeth, as t£e glorious blaze roared up the deep chimney, and she crouched to hold her fingers to the warmth. “It’s pretty dark, for 9 o’clock,” Dan muttered, glancing toward the windows. “It’s dark, Dan, because we are literally buried in snow,” the girl answered. With a startled look he went to the door, which was pushed open with some difficulty. Patricia went to stand beside him, and in silence they looked out upon a world of snow. Fine snow still was whirling in the air, although tlte wind was falling, and there as an unearthly stillness without. The porch, usually three feet above the ground, was level with the surface of the snow, and a great drift, at one side, rose up higher than the cabin. In every direction lay the unbroken surface of flawless white, from which the muffed forms of the trees rose to lose themselves in the soft veiling of the air. The road had vanished, and only a great furry mound showed where the car was buried. Every possible ridge and crevice was packed and blanketed with exquisite white, and about them and above them were only trackless deeps upon deeps of snow. a a a VOICELESS before the awful beauty of it, the man and woman stood for two or three long minutes looking their fill. Not a branch cracked, not a sound broke the stillness; nothing moved except that softly, turning and twisting curtain of white, or an overladen spray that gently lowered its burden into the feathery depths below it. “The gorgeous beautiful, heavenly waste of it!” Patricia whispered after a while, “And we go to ‘Parsifal’ and praise the scenic effects, while this divine thing happens at least two or times every winter, in miles and miles of empty forest everywhere!” “By gosh, it’s worth coming up here for this,” Dan added, no less stirred. “But you’ll get pneumonia,” he abruptly concluded. “Here, come in and shut the door.” “Dan,” Patricia said, a little later, when they were enjoying their breakfast, “can we get out in this?” “We can make a stab at it,” he admitted, “but to tell you the truth, I don’t see us getting far!” “I was thinking,” Patricia went on, “that if we somehow could flounder down as far as the railroad, we simply could wait there until some train came along and take it, wherever it was bound.” “Is there a waiting room?” She smiled ruefully. “No. There’s nothing but a freight shed and a platform.” “Stove in the shed?” “Heavens, I don't know. But I should suppose so.” (To Be Concluded)

TARZAN AND THE JEWELS OF OPAR

The Belgian’s eyes measured Tarzan’s giant frame, and rested upon the rounded muscles of his great arms. It was hopeless. What could he, .Werper. hope to accomplish other than his own death, by an attempt to wrest the gems from their savage owner? He must try cunning. He threw himself down as If to sleep, his arms across his face, but so his eyes could furtively watch the ape-man. He saw that Tarzan was watching him intently. Werper feigned deep slumber.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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Tarzan, with the suspicion of a savage, was thinking. Since Werper has evinced a desire to have the glittering pebbles, the ape-man guarded thefn carefully. He had seen the Waziri bury their belongings. He Would do the same. Long the ape-man watched his companion. Then convinced that Werper slept, Tarzan withdrew his hunting knife and dug a hole. Into this he placed the pouch of jewels. Werper could scarce repress an ejaculation oi Satisfaction.

—By Martin

Then faintly Werper heard the other’s hands scraping the dirt, and later patting it. He knew that the jewels were buried! It was an hour before Werper dared to move. The ape-man slept. Cautiously the Belgian drew forth the sacrificial knife and plunged it into the ground. In another moment the jewels were safely tucked within Ijis shirt Then he filled the hole. Greed had prompted him to an act that he knew would cost him his life if his companion discovered it aft

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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By Edgar Rice Burroughs

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Far across the plain a leopard screamed, but still Tarzan did not move. With utmost caution the Belgian acted. He paused, fingering the hilt of the long knife, and looked down at the sleeper. "Why not?” he mused. "Then I would be safe.” In the dense reeds behind him soma great beast moved on padded feet Werper bent above the ape-man, crawled close. Clutched In his upraised hand he held the sacrifical knife of the High Priestess of the Flaming Godl _

AUG. 8, 1980

—By Ahem

—By Blossei:

—By Crane

—By Small