Indianapolis Times, Volume 46, Number 32, Indianapolis, Marion County, 18 June 1934 — Page 13

JUNE 18, im.

The Amateur Gentleman ======== By Jeffrey

BEGIN HERE TODAX Receiviing an inheritance oi seven hundred thousand pounds. Barnabas Barty, son of John Barty. the former champion prize fighter of England, decides to become a gentleman rather than follow the fighting game. He bests his father In a duel of fists as the climax of a quarrel over the son s choice of a career. Natty Bell, another former champion, has aided the father In training young Barty to use his fists. After the fight, Barnabas changes his surname to Beverley and on his way to London meets among others <-fie Cap'n, the Bosun and young Horatio Bellasis, a gentleman, and friend oi Sir Mortimer Carnaby. _ _ ... Finding Sir Mortimer, whom he did not know at the time. leering over the form of Lady Cleone Meredith apparently unconscious as a result of a fall from a horse, voung Barty knocks out the intruder. _ The trip to London is resumed with young Bellasis as a companion. Beverley tests his companion in a battle of fists after the lie had been passed over the ability of the prize fighter’s son. The combatants remain friends. Both love Lady Cleone. Bellasis quits the trip to press his courtship. Barnabas, however, decides to continue on to London. He engages Peterby, former poacher as valet. Encountering Chichester, a rogue, who is annoying Clemency, an inn maid, Barnabas bluffs him to escape a pistol duel. Meeting Lady Cleone again Barnabas declares his love for her and promises that on his arrival in London he will seek to aid her brother, who is under the influence of Chichester. INSTALLMENT THIRTY-EIGHT (Continued) “Now,” said Barnabas, “the Tenterden coach, and London.” u n tt OF all the lions that ever existed, painted or otherwise, white lions, blue lions, black, green, or red lions, surely never was there one like the White Lion at Tenterden. For he was such a remarkably placid lion, although precariously balanced upon the extreme point of one claw, and he stared down at all and sundry with such round, inquiring eyes, as much as to say: “Who are you? What’s your father? Where are you going?” Indeed, so very inquisitive was he that his very tail had writhed itself into a note of interrogation, and, like a certain historical personage, was forever asking a question. Tonight he had singled out Barnabas from the throng, and was positively bombarding him with questions, as: “Dark or fair? Tall or short? Does she love you? Will she remember you? Will she kiss you—next time? Aha! will she, will she?” But here, feeling a touch upon his arm, Barnabas turned to find Peterby at his elbow, and thus once more became aw’are of the hubbub about him. “Box seat, sir; next to the coachman!” says Peterby above the din, for voices were shouting, horses snorting and stamping, ostlers are hurrying here, running there, and swearing everywhere; waiters and serving-maids are dodging to and fro, and all is hurry and bustle, for the night mail is on the eve of departure for London. Throned above all this clamor, calmly aloof, yet withal watchful of eye, sits the coachman, beshawled to the ears of him, hatted to the eyes of him, and in a wondrous coat of many capes; a ponderous man, hoarse of voice and mottled of face, who, having swallowed his hot rum and water in three leisurely gulps, tosses down the glass to the waiting pot-boy (and very nearly hits a fussy little gentleman in a green spencer, who carries a hat-box in one hand and a bulging valise in the other, and who ducks indignantly, but just in time), sighs, shakes his head, and proceeds to rewind the shawl about his neck neck and chin, and to belt himself into his seat, throwing an occasional encouraging curse to the perspiring ostlers below. “Coachman!” cries the fussy gentleman, “hi, coachman!” “The “Markis* seems a bit fresh tonight, Sam,” says Mottleface affably to one of the ostlers. “Fresh,” exclaims that w T orthy as the 'Marquis’ rears again, “fresh, I believe you—burn ’is, bones!” “Driver!” shouts the fussy gentleman, “driver!” , “Why then, bear ’im up werry short, Sam.” “Driver t” roars the fussy little

Q^^GUM

This Curious World Ferguson

fIE, . appears to uS I ' a? being n° larger than many j OTHER STAPS, BUT lfr ,T WERE AS Hf , ' NEAR - t O us AS W ° ULD COVER THE it has a ‘ Ijß ° IA^ AETE ' R OF ■ ® l / •/ STARS EVEN LARGER I jk_/ THAN Pf Jl 6ETELGEUSE. B| " [( (cM934 BY NEA SERVICE, INC. FROG-HOPPER-, nU atinv plant-bug, protects itself \\ FROM ENEMIES BV BLOWING A W/ ]]// MASS OF BUBBLES ABOUT ITSELF/ VI 1/ THE BUBBLES ARE COMPOSED OF OIANT ' JUICE, AIR. AND WAX'. KINDS q/CHERRIES THE Burbank cherry tree, with its 400 varieties of cherries, is in itself an orchard. The original 400 were produced by grafts, but each season, through cross-pollination, new varieties continue to be added. NEXT—How many odors is the nose capable of detecting?

gentleman, “driver coachman! oh, driver!” “Veil, sir, that’s me,” says Mottleface, condescending to become aware of him at last. “Give me a hand up with my valise—dye hear?” “Walise, sir? No, sir, can’t be dqne, sir. In the boot, sir; guard, sir.” “Boot!” cries the fussy gentleman indignantly. “I’ll never trust my property in the boot!” “Then v’y not leave it be’ind, sir, and stay w’ith it, or—” “Nonsense!” exclaimed the little man, growing angry. “I tell you this is valuable property. D’ye know who I am?” “Or ye might climb into the boot along vith it, sir—” “Do you know who I am?” “All aboard—all aboard for London” roared the guard, coming up at the instant. “Valter!” cried Mottleface. INSTALLMENT THIRTY-NINE “ A Y, ay, Joe?” lx. “Gentleman’s walise for the boot, Valter; and sharp's the word! 1 ’ “Ay, ay, Joe!” and, as he spoke, the guard caught the valise from the protesting small gentleman with one hand, and the hat-box with the other, and, forthwith, vanished. Hereupon the fussy gentleman, redder of face, and more angry than ever, clambered to the roof, still loudly protesting; all of which seemed entirely lost upon Mottleface, who, taking up the reins and settling his feet against the dashboard, winked a solemn, owl-like eye at Barnabas sitting beside him, and carolled a song in a husky voice, frequently interrupting himself to admonish the ostlers, in this wise: “ 'She wore no’ at upon ’er ’ead. Nor a cap, nor a —’ “Bear the ‘Markis’ up werry short, Sam, vill ’ee? “ •—dandr bonnet. But ’er ’air it ’ung all down ’er back. Like a—’ “Easy—easy now! Hold on to them leaders, Dick! ' —bunch ot carrots uqon it. Ven she cried “sprats” in Vestminirter, Oh! sich a sweet loud voice, sir. You could ’ear ’er alt up Pealvment street, And as far as Charing Cross, sir.’ ” “All aboard, all aboard for London!” roars the guard, and roaring, swings himself up into the boot. “All right be’ing?” cries Mottleface. “All right, Joe!” sings the guard. ' “Then—leggo, there!” cries Mot-tle-face. Back spring the hostlers, forward leap the four quivering horses, their straining hoofs beating out showers of sparks from the cobbles; the coach lurches forward and is off, amid a waving of hats and pockethandkerchiefs, and Barnabas, casting a farewell glance around, is immediately fixed by the gaze of the “White Lion,” as inquiring of eye and interrogatory of tail is ever. “Tall or short? Dark or fair? Will she kiss you—next time—will she, will she? Will she even be glad to see you again—will she, now will she?” Whereupon Barnabas must needs become profoundly thoughtful all at once. “Now—l wonder?” said he to himself. Long before the lights of the White Lion had vanished behind them, the guard blows a sudden fanfare on the horn, such a blast as goes echoing merely far and wide, and brings folk running to open doors and lighted windows to oaMi a glimpse of the London mail ere it vanishes into the night; and so, almost while the cheery notes ring upon the air, Tenterden is behind them, and they are bowling along the highway into the open country beyond. A wonderful country this, familiar and yet wholly new; a nightmare world where ghosts and goblins flit under a dying moon; where hedge and tree become monsters crouched to spring, or lift knotted arms to smite; while in the gloom of woods beyond, unimagined horrors lurk. (To Be Continued)

OUR BOARDING ROUSE

HP EtSAOr&CYS,! JUST fllF WHILE IK SINCE W "FOUND OUT TU/vT TYAVS \J| OFF, DO YOU WASN'T W NOT SO HANDY Hi IS SREASV TROUT JUf ME TO TRAMSPLNTT J WITH A SHOVEL, m COUNTRY/—-BEINS M A SHADE TREE / HOW DID YOU if MORE 'PROFICIENT OH TH' BANK OF / SET THAT CAN H WITH ROD AND-REEL/- ( J §f> THAN PICK AND SHOVEL, )

FHECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

f WELL, ¥ I THINk ILL GIVE f TMIS MASK HIDES MY (Bf THAT'S THE TROUBLE WITH ( WELL..., FRECKLE?, T THE REST OF THE FACE AWD NO ONE W PEOPLE'S PARTIES—NO ONE 1 WAVE A LJ were j fifMW Wf IIAWIDC WITH THE KIDS A THRILL! I'M WILL kNOW ME... IT’LL IS ORIGINAL ...NOBODY EVER THINKS A | CQ t! )/jf fk I . .q, JB pHIWJ M MASK ON, GONNA GO IN BE A GOOD GAG AND ‘’(■L UP CLEVER LITTLE THINGS TO D0.,. / FRECKLES J ** k (JP I you I *. A WIIJMW SC.BG TUEm ,lly 1

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

/f THAT HIRED MAN OF YOURS, RAVMOWD POTTS- V\ AWELL.WHVPIP POTTS SNEAK DOWN TO THE BAKIKfy /Y WF6 HE ACTIN' KINDA \ COME TO THINK /'BUT IT WAS NOTHING UNUSUAL. HE AhmmJ I BETfeih i WAS THERE EVER ANY BAD FEELING BETWEEN I WHEN WE COULD HAVE SEEN YOUR j OftWrY I QUEER THAT MORNING? I IT, HE SEEMED A ALWAYS WAS STRANGE. VERY STRANGE-AND HAVE A LOOK V HIM AMD YOUR DAD, MISS LANE? DAD JUST AS WELL AT HOME? j j V BTT SULLEM. J MOODY. WHY, SOMETIMES HE WOULDN'T AT THATGUV'S

ALLEY OOP

( BOVf WQTTA MESS } 'wECL.SUPPOSIN* J THACT’S EASV. f WE C’N JUST TIE A VEAH TWASSA SWELL IDEAOMW —HOW Vft GONNA’

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

WATf, TV\E. MW^R, 1f WE BOOTS ? \6KfT ttONV&E. BE B.AC \VWEKAEEV ,BoT \T UtfEL 1 W\U. ' I I ?l ftOSS VS J fcOOTS f WWW*

TARZAN THE INVINCIBLE

Slowly Tarzan’s right hand drew back the feathered end of the shaft until the point rested almost upon his left thumb. His manner was marked by easy, effortless grace. When he released the shaft, it buried itself in the fleshy part of a sentry’s leg.

Keep €@CH While You Shop-Downstairs at Ayres

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

With a yell of pain, the black collapsed upon the ground. As his followers gathered around him Tarzan melted away into the shadows of the jungle night. Attracted by the cries, Zveri, Romero, and the other leaders hastened to combat Tarzan's campaign of terrorism.

—By Ahern

OUT OUR WAY

7 you THERE ISN’T ONE / HALF A CENT A \ / WEED IN THAT WHOLE> . g / WEED. DISTINCTLY. . BUNCH! YOU’VE PULLED W YOU SAID rrf well; fj | them apart? you've THERE'S TWO WEEDS, \ I OF IS ONE CENT, AIN’T l A GOOD BUSINESSMAN, it? AND THERE'S \mn BUT YOU'RE NOT ~ fit* FOUR WEEDS, IS /BBE MAKING IT ON ME / y TWO CENTS,AIN'T IT?/ U’VE BEENI HOODWINKED/ emnrnn —— WHY MOTHERS GET GRAY

“Who shot you?” demanded Zveri when he saw the arrow protruding from the sentry’s leg. “I do not know,” replied the man. The expression of Kitembo’s face was serious. “This arrow bears the mark of a warrior who was left behind in our camp,” he said.

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

“That is impossible,” cried Zveri. Kitembo shrugged. “I know it,” he said, “but it is true.” ‘We must hush this thing up,” said Zveri. He turned to the headman. “You and Kitembo,” he commanded, must not repeat this to your men. Let us keep it to ourselves.”

PAGE 13

—By Williams

—By Blosses

—By Crane

—By Hamlin

—By Martin,