Indianapolis Times, Volume 48, Number 40, Indianapolis, Marion County, 27 April 1936 — Page 15

'APRIL 27,1936

Today’ 8 Short Story THE RUBE By Sloan Taylor

HARRY put hia hand In the pock't of his topcoat and gently closed his fingers around the blue steel of the Luger. He stepped off the curb and crossed Elghth-av to the traffic cop. His collar was turned up against the light drizzle which was falling that summer afternoon In 1919, and his old hat flopped about his ears. “Can y’all tell me," he said in a back-country drawl, “where I can get to a pawnshop?” The policeman paused before replying. He noted the cheap shoddy of Harry’s clothes, and the polished Army bluchers. “Just back from Prance?” “Yes, sir. Little over a week.” “Hmm. So you blew your dough in the Big Town, eh? Now, you’re looking for a hockshop. See any action ovpr seas?” “Yes, sir. Argonne.” "Yeah? I was at Chateau Thierry . . . Well, it didn’t take you long to find out that the country’s about fed up on glad-handing the heroes, did it? How’d you get. rid of your dough? From the looks of that rig you’re in now I wouldn’t guess you’d spread yourself on clothes.” tt tt tt NAW, sir,” said Harry. “The folks back home sent me my civvies when 1 wrote them I was going to stay here in New York ct a *Y’ house for a little while. I expect I’m pretty much of a rube.” “Maybe so. But what did you do with your Jack? Did you draw much when you got out of the service?” “Well, counting the S6O bonus, traveling allowance back to Junction City, where I joined up, and the pay I let pile up while on the other side, it was nearly S6OO in all.” “Wow,” said the cop. “How did you blow that much in a week—a guy like you, I mean?” “I didn’t e/actly blow it, if you got a minute to listen.” “Okay.” “I figured I could make some money in New York. There was a company cierk in the outfit who used to work in Wall Street, and he used to tell us about folks making a lot of money, buying on margin, he said. That’s what I figured I’d do.” tt tt tt “T TAH! Clean up in Wall Street with $600!” “Aw, I didn’t want a million dollars. All I wanted was about SISOO to make the down payment on a corner property for a filling station out our way. With only S6OO, it’d take me a couple or three years to get the rest working on a farm. “You see, I—l, well, I sort of wanted to get married. There’s a girl at home, and when I went over we kinda had an understanding that if I came back all right—you know.” “Yeah, but you haven’t told me how they took you in Wall Street.” “It wasn’t Wall Street. I met a couple c men at the cigar store on the corner from the ’Y.’ I told them about wanting to run my S6OO up to SISOO in the market, and they offered to show me a quicker way to make the money. “I don’t remember exactly what they meant to do, but it was something about horse races, and it sounded all right the way they explained it. They—” a a a “TT7AIT a minute,” said the cop. ’ ’ “Did they tell you they could get the results of the races before the bookmakers knew them, and thereby lay their bets on a sure thing?” “Something like that, yeah. I did win a couple of small beta they placed for me, then they told me I ought to shoot the works, seeing I couldn’t lose. I did, and this time something went wrong, and I did lose. I didn’t see ’em after that.” “Well, listen, bud, and this is on the level: if I had the dough I’d stake you myself. But I haven’t got it. Next best thing, then, is to go over there, half way down the block, to Zimmerman’s. See the name under those three gold balls? Yeah, well Moe Zimmerman is one white old guy. He’ll give you every dime he can. and then seme. Go ahead over. Tell Moe you’re an exsoldier. and tell him that Reilly, here on the corner, sent you.” A young man with pinched, yellowish features, a turned down fedora and an expensive raincoat was behind the counter when Harry walked into Zimmerman \ He watched with feline alertness as Harry approached the counter. tt m m TTARRY pulled the Luger out of his po<_' et. When the man behind the counter saw the muzzle of the gun he slowly raised his hands. His lips tightened and his eyes flashed an angry challenge. “You get the hell out of here,” he said quietly. Harry hesitated for a moment, then grinned and started to lay the gun cn the counter. He was stopped by a noise in the rear of the shop. Looking around, he saw an old man trying to rise from the floor. There was a bruise on his face. Harry went to help him, and he did so the yellow-faced man vaulted the counter and rushed out of the store. As he gained his feet, Moe Zimmerman ran out to the sidewalk, and Harry heard him shrilling a police whist.e and calling, “Meester Reilly! Meester Reilly!” Reilly scooped up the running yellow-faced man, snatched a gun from his pocket, and marched him back to the pawnshop. He hurled his captive agaiitafc the counter and glanced around the store. Harry was standing beside a grilled section of the counter, the Luger still In his hand.

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“■pvROP it,” said Reilly, whipping -L/ out his service revolver. The Luger clattered to the floor and the policeman kicked it out of reach. “Well, I’ll be It’s the rube!” Two uniformed patrolmen, summoned by witnesses of the capture, came into the shop. The siren whine of a squad car came down the street. Four plainclothes men, led by a gray-haired lieutenant of detectives, leaped out and pushed through the crowd in front of Zimmerman’s. After a quick glance at the little group inside the store, the lieutenant motioned to the two uniformed police who had come to Reilly’s assistance. “Get outside and keep that sidewalk clear.” The lieutenant pointed a finger at the yellow-faced man. “I know this egg,” he said to Reilly. “It’s Dopey Klein. The other guy his partner?” Reilly stooped over and got the Luger. “Yes, sir. He works as the stall. While Klein was in here trying to pull the job, this guy was out there on my comer, giving me a line about just coding back from France and being took by the payoff racket. Both of ’em were armed, sir.” it tt it “ r T'HAT your rod?” the lieutenant asked Harry. “Yes, sir. I came here to pawn it for money to get home on. And I sure did just get back from Prance. Hell, mister, it’s right here in my discharge.” Harry handed the lieutenant a folded white naper. The police officer read the front page, then turned it over. He looked curiously at Harry after reading the notations listing the action, battles and engagements in which he had seen service. “Argonne, eh?” The lieutenant breathed noisily. “You men take Klein to the precinct house,” he toid the detectives. “You go too, Reilly. Never mind making out a card on this man. And let me have that gun.” When the other police departed with their prisoner, the lieutenant leaned on the counter and examined the Luger. He opened the cartridge chamber. It was empty. He laid the gun on the counter. “Where did you get this?” “From the enemy, sir. I also got some lead—from that same gun.” “Yeah. What was this about you being hooked by the pay-off racket?” tt it tt TkyTOE ZJMMERMAN and the lieutenant listended soberly while Harry repeated his story. “Yeah,” said the lieutenant when Harry had finished, “but you’ve broken the law. A tough judge would send you away for one to five years. Don’t you know carrying a concealed weapon is a felony in this state?” “Back home anybody—” “Then you’d better go back home. And the sooner the better. As far as the gun charge is concerned, I don’t think there’s a magistrate in New York that would hold you if you gave him your war record. Under the law in these cases, t*he magistrates are permitted to give a suspended sentence at their discretion. Well, it isn’t law, but I’m going to cut things short and use discretion myself. I’m going to take the responsibility of letting you go.” “Thank you, sir. I—” “Never mind that. But for God’s sake, get out of this town. You belong back home, son. And the folks ought to be mighty glad to get you back home—after the Argonne. Some of them—a lot of ’em—didn’t come back. I sent my boy over there, and—well, never mind.” it tt it 'T'HE lieutenant turned around to speak to Zimmerman, but the old man had retreated to the back of the store. “Hey, Moe,” he called. “Come back here, Moe. This boy has done you a pretty good turn today; saved you plenty, busting up that stickup.” How about staking him—” Zimmerman returned to his place behind the counter and grinned at the lieutenant. “Mr. Callahan,” said Zimmerman, “I am ahead of you miles.” He handed Harry an envelope. “There’s SISOO for the gas station,” he said. “Now, how much you need to get home. Money to get home I give you for a present. For the other I charge you 7 per cent interest.” He looked at the lieutenant. “That’s not too much, 7 per cent, when I lend him without security?” “We’ve got some bad eggs in this town,” Callahan said to Harry, but, son, we’ve got some mighty good ones, too. And you won’t find a better gent anywhere in the world than this old so-and-so right here.” The old man was laughing and rubbing his hands. Suddenly a serious thought struck him. He picked up the Luger and handed it to Harry. "That gun you keep.” he said. “Yeah, don’t let any robbers get in our gas station.” THE END. (Copyright. 1936. by Chicago TribuneN. V. News. Syndicate. Inc.) GUNMAN OBTAINS $lO Masked Bandit Fires at North Side Man in Holdup. A masked bandit who shot at John C. Sclueter, 822 E. 42d-st, after robbing him of $lO, was the object of a police search today. The gunman stopped him while he was walking with a young woman at 39th-st and College-av last night, Mr. Sclueter reported.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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TARZAN AND THE LEOPARD MEN

When the great tree which had sheltered them crashed earthward, Tarzan tossed Nlcima to safety in the branches of another jungle giant. There the little monkey crouched in an agony of terror, whimpering pitifully as the storm whipped the mighty forest in all its overwhelming fury.

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While the tornado raged, Nkima was motionless except for the fear-induced tremors which shook his small body. Soon, however, the thunder rolled away in the distance. The lightning flashes grew dimmer. The rain settled down to a gentle patter.

With Major Hoople

OUT OUR WAY

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1936 by NC* SEWICE. )NC. T. M. WEC. U. S. PT. OFF, j

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SETe im eer H jf'KAICRf NDIC JAI

Sensing the departure of the storm, Nkima ventured in search of Tarzan, his master. But now anew iear gripped him—fear of the great savage ceatures of the jungle which had a taste for tender monkey meat. Prom time to time he called plaintively: "Tarzan! Master! Tarzan!”

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

It was dark. Little Nkima could see nothing beyond a few feet from the end of his generous, sensitive nose. When his master did not answer, he was filled with dire forebodings; but presently ne found Tarzan pinned to the earth by the fallen tree—silent, and still as the stillness of death!

COMIC FAG*

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Hamlin

—By Martin