Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 30 June 1937 — Page 22

SUPERSTITION MOUNTAIN

By Oren Arnold

CAST OF CHARACTERS CAROLEE COLTER, heroine, prospector’s daughter. STUART BLAKE, eastern “dude” tourist; Carolee’s lover. HENRY COLTER, prospector. PAUL apd SILAS COLTER, prospector’s sons. NINA BLAKE, Stuart’s sister.

. Yesterday: Stuart and Carolee, after much searching, finally locate the ‘trail back to camp. Arriving there, they arrange to meet again.

CHAPTER SIX

TUART BLAKE escorted Carolee back part way up the trail toward her home, after: they had begged midafternoon lunch from the cook in Superstition Ledge. The danger over, both could laugh at their mountain adventure and enjoy the comradeship that the experience wrought. Carolee was afraid he would ask formally to call on her at her home on the high mesa. That would never do, she knew, and he ought tos realize it; he had discovered her family’s hostility. . To forestall him she suggested ‘meeting him—on signal—at the trysting place. She {would hang out the white sheet when she could ride. When Stuart returned a second time to Superstition Lodge the hour was near sundown, and there was a hubbub of conversation on the front porch. One glance told him something had happened. His father was there, obviously excited. But Nina greeted Stuart.

# # »

14 ISMOUNT, buckaroo, and listen to the old scout’s story,” she called. “Somebody’s been shooting at dad.” “Whoa. What's matter? Who's done what?” Mr. Blake Sr. was serious about it, and agitated. “Somebody shot at me this noon, up in the mountain,” he explained. “Three or four times. I might have been killed. I could hear the bullets plopping right near me.” Sturat was incredulous for a moment. “Are you serious, dad? Are you sure?” “Certainly I'm sure! I was just telling the folks here about it.” “Thé folks” included Nina Blake and half a dozen other Lodge guests and employees who happened to be within hearing; even the old Indian women, who were eternally weaving baskets or molding pottery in the shade nearby, stopped to listen open-mouthed.

2 # 2 3

HAT’S about all there was t the story. Mr. Blake retold it a dozen times. He had simply squatted behind a rock for nearly an hour, badly frightened; then he had gone back to the glen where he had tied his horse, and hasténed to return home. He had no idea who could have done the shooting. The bullets came from across a wide canyon, evidently at considerable range. Stuart remembered his own experience with Carolee and warned his dad against getting lost, but the father had been on higher altitudes where the going was less blocked by brush. Besides, he was a keener cbserver than his children, he informed them; he could backtrail. Stuart decided immediately that the Colter men had done the shooting. He mentioned that fact to his father, and the latter partially agreed. . Still, there would seem to be no logical reason for it. The _Colters might harbor enmity for Stuart, following the episode in the Phoenix store, but hardly for Stuart’s father, Mr. Blake pointed out that the store incident had been trivial in the first place. But the Colters obviously were touchy, surly, hence likely to do fool things. And on top of all that, they were out after gold and suspicious of anyone who tried to thwart them. They may have thought Mr. Blake was trying to spy on them. : Nina Blake declined to get worked up about it, as usual. She was more interested in probing her brother’s personal affairs. “Been out all day, haven't you brother de-e-e-ar? Isnt love the grandest thing?” “Shut up,” he grinned. lee’s all right, though.” “Your're tell I? Pretty! But just the e, watch out. The old itches to use a shot-

“Caro-

gun.” / He /threw spurs and a quirt and assorted thin

dgicked a an, while everybody

i _ laughed at them.

zs s 2 ALK of the shooting occupied the supper hour and the starlight conferences, too. This was a balmy evening, and the Lodge people loafed on the great rustic porch, _enjoying the new thrill in conversation. Mr. Blake was quite the hero. Both he and his son had telephoned into Florence, county seat, and reported the matter to Sheriff Watson, but the Sheriff hadn’t been very helpful. Probably some careless hunter, he had suggested; hardly worth a search. People were always reporting “mysterious” shootings up in old Superstition and he was prone to scoff at such yarns. But even at bedtime the Blake men weren't satisfied. 8 Soon after breakfast next morning Stuart ordered his horse sad- . dled and—more sensibly than the .day before—strapped on a gallon canteen of water and a small package of food. He didn't want to ‘admit being lost the day before with Carolee, and wouldn’t even admit

{

at Nina until she |

the Pinal]

to himself that he couldn't ride.

through the mountain alone. The horse was tied and waiting when Stuart came out. And when he did appear, he smacked of a movie version of some terrible-tom-from-the-tall-timber. At least Nina told him so. “Woe to the villains. on a day ie this!” she declaimed, loudly. ill you capture them alive and torture them, sir? Or just shoot them down to dust?” Sturat wore a cartridge belt, borrowed from the Lodge owner. A business-like revolver hung on one hip, too; and he carried a shiny repeating rifle that he had bought in town. . » ” 8 S a matter of solemn fact, he did look rather impressive. Nina’s admiration was at least partly genuine. Stuart could have been a movie hero, with luck and talent added; and he had the looks. He was masculine enough. Usually he was gay and prankish, full of banter himself, but not this morning. - “Somebody shot at dad,” he announced, as if that were sufficient. Come fo think of it, it was, Nina told-herself. “Then the maiden is not in distress today, I take it. It’s best to let her yearn a bit anyway. Where will you go, then?” Stuart was stuffing cartridges into his pistol. “I don’t know exactly. For one thing I'll do a little target practice. Dad traced out the route he took yesterday. He was about four miles from here. I'll go there, and learn what I can.” Nina was suddenly concerned. ‘Don’t be a fool, Stuart. If somebody shot at dad, somebody might shoot at you. And the aim might be better today. Why don’t you take a guide?” “Dad wasn’t armed. I am. I don’t think the shooting will occur

1937, MEA SERVICE, Inc.

again anyway. I just want to investigate. Besides, I'm getting interested in that Lost Dutchman Mine. If it’s important enough tc ‘nake fools of the Colters and cause dad to be shot at, then some of those other stories about the mountain may be true.” oy “Undoubtedly some of them are true,” Nina declared. “They are on record. The deaths, I mean. But why are you interested?” > He smiled, then, for the first time this morning: - - - “Came out to adventure, didh’t we, while dad rests? So far he's done the adventuring. I want to trace down a few clues myself. But don’t go spending the treasure until I find it.” . 2 8 ” A TINA leaned against a front post, a crooked ironwood log, and watched her brother mount. She couldn’t help being concerned for his safety, but he did look out of place to her, out of atmosphere. She was accustomed to Stuart in full dress or a tux, or in correct city sport clothes behind the wheel of his roadster. He was strange to cowboy regalia. “You look grand,” she conceded. “If you only had a wagon train to rescue. Or a Pocahontas to woo!” ; He glanced at the Indian handiworkers near the porch, already weaving and mixing clay. Not one was under 40 years, nor under 180 pounds. They were just old women, tolerated there because they were picturesque. , “Sorry, sis, but you can’t make a squaw man of me. So long. I may lay out tonight (he was already picking up the speech of the western cowboys), so don’t look for me for a day or two. “And another thing,” he flung back as he rode off, “if there’s any shooting done this trip, I'm going to do some of it. Tell that to dad.”

(To Be Continued)

Daily Short Story

GOLD LINKS—By Sarah Jane Corcoran

ILL TREVOR bought the gold link bracelet on Thursday but he waited until Saturday to give it to Janet Clark. “It’s perfect, Bill, why it’s—it’s like us—our love linked together. I'll always love it best of everything— everything but you,” .Janet’s voice was happy. “I'm glad you like it.” Bill tried to hide his elation. “It’s g sort of —of celebration gift. I'm on steady

“And you spent it on me right away; Bill—you shouldn’t—when did you hear about being on steady, today?” “Well, no, I've known for a week but I wanted to be sure.” “Oh!” Janet felt hurt, subdued. but she refused to allow anything to dampen her happiness, “I'm: so happy about the raise because now we can——" She stopped before adding “we can be married sooner.” Bill didn’t notice the pause as he began, “I've got it all figured out. I know now that we can own our own home when we marry.” A year dragged on—two—almost three. Bill was saving, determined to have security, planning his life —their lives. » ” 2 « HEY had those usual silly quarrels about her job — working after marriage—the color of the moon—these at first—then Bill saw Janet having lunch with another man. ’ “But it means nothing, Janet explained that night. “I don’t suppose it does but I don’t like it—I know we aren’t going out so much but we're saving—planning ahead.” “That's just it. You're too careful. You. have to be sure of everything— too sure. Bill, you can’t plan happiness. You've got to grab it while you can and hold on.” Another year passed and Bill was in charge of the receiving rdom,at the mint. He and an assistant were sorting gold pieces of all shapes a. sizes preparing them for the meltin furnaces. he “What’s the matter Bill? You look as if you have seen a ghost.” “I did.” ~ “What the—say I was only joking.” “I know you were—I wasn’t.” = Bill was holding the gold link bracelet—a ghost of a love that still haunted him. #o-m8 : E hurried to the desk and took | out the record book. Yes there it was—Janet Clark, 3720 Sunset Ave. Well, she was still single but she couldn’t care any more if she parted with the bracelet. He suddenly stopped. Maybe she needed money. He ought to find out and help if he could. Janet was proud, though, and he’d have to be careful about helping. Bill felt something of the old thrill driving out Sunset Ave. after dinner that evening. He found that 3720 was a small white house, the counterpart of ten or fifteen others in the same block. That was funny, because Janet liked apartments. Maybe she had changed in other ways—wouldn’t feel the same. He drove past, turned at the corner and started back. He decided he would _park a short distance away and make some plausible explanation for being there. A car stopped in front of the house, a man jumped out, ran up the walk and rang the bell. A girl opened the door. Bill heard the two laughing gaily as the door closed. His car growled in second gear for almost a block as he drove on. Two nights later Bill again drove out Sunset Ave. The same

Bill,”

car was in front of the house. No,

now at the mint and I got a raise.” |

years.”

she didn’t need money, nor him either. . . 2 ® = HORTLY afterward Bill asked for and received a transfer to New Orleans. He was eight years there, going on to Philadelphia as manager of the stamping room; five years more and he was chief inspector of mints. Long hours, overtime, hard work had accomplished that and he had done it alone. _ Then he came to Denver on a short trip to inspect the new addition to the mint. It was on his last night that he met Janet. The superinendent and a group of others, some former co-workers entertained at a dinner party at the Country Club. Later they were showing him some of the newer residential sec‘tions when one of the party said, “There’s Tom Heath’s new home. Let’s stop and initiate it,” and turning to Bill added, “Tom married an old friend of yours, Janet Clark.” 2 2 an. URING those 13 years since he had seen Janet Bill had assured himself over and over again that he had forgotten her, but he knew as she came toward him from Butoss her living room that he had not. The men of the party had gone to the recreation room with her husband to see his trophies when Bill found himself alone with Janet. The moment was an eternity until he managed to say: “Ah-~Ja—MTrs. Heath.” to smile. “Why, Bill, this is a surprise.” “You're looking well.” “So. are you, Bill, you've gone a long way since I saw you last.” The same funny little grin he thought he’d forgotten crept to her lips as she added, “Are you married?” “No, I've been-too busy.” It was difficult to laugh. “But you seem happy though married”; he finished with an effort at levity. “I am,” Janet answered, “Tom and I have been married—just five

He tried

8 2 2

ID he imagine there was a slight pause before she said “just.five years,” a sort of regret for lost time? He looked around the room. It was large, with quiet colors, comfortable furniture, soft thick rugs, two beautiful etchings on opposite walls, tall porcelain vases with long stemmed roses, even a real fire burning in the fireplace. “Somehow I've always had a picture of you with just this background, Janet, only I was—have you ever thought, wondered about us, about what might have been?” He stopped, hoping Janet would say something, but when she didn’t he went on, “Remember the last time I saw you, our last quarrel, I said I'd never come back until you sent for me? I wonder what would— where we'd be now if I hadn’t been too stubborn to go back and you too proud to send for me.” Janet looked at Bill as if measuring him, thén she said wistfully, “I did sen or you, Bill.” She walked away, but came back almost immediately with a small piece of paper in her hands—a piece of paper/ yellowed and worn from too many foldings. It was a clipping from the Denver daily dated 13 years before. Mr. William Trevor has been transferred to the receiving room. His new duties will consist of examining and appraising all gold in the form of jewelry received at the mint.

THE END

i Copyright. 1937. United Feature Syndicate]

The characters in this story are fictitious

Ice Cold

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES OUT OUR WAY

HEY , TERRY, WHER' YOU GOIN' 2 TI THOT YOU LIVED RIGHT HERE IN THIS HOUSE.

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OH , TERRY HAD TO MOVE OUT FARTHER INTO TH' COUNTRY, SO HE WOULDN'T _ HAVE TO PASS HIS HOUSE AFTER HE PARKED HIS CAR. NOW HE CAN PARK ALMOST OFF HIS

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Inclose a 3-cent stamp for reply when addressing any question of fact or information to The Indianapolis Times ‘Washington Service Bureau, 1013 13th St, N. W., Washington, D. C. Legal and medical advice cannot be given, nor. can extended research be undertaken.

Q—Why are black sheep placed in ‘large flocks? : : A—In the range states, where sheep are under the constant care of herders, black sheep are placed in the flocks about one to every hundred. When a herder has a thousand or more to watch, it is comparatively easy for him to count quickly the black sheep, and if he finds all of them present, it is unlikely that many of the others have strayed.

Q—Are the mortarboard caps that students wear when receiving a scholastic degree, always made of the same kind of material? A—They are made of black cloth with a black silk tassel, except that the doctor’s cap may be of velvet with a tassel of gold, in whole or in

‘Q—What is the postage rate for a letter sent in the United States by special delivery mail . A—Three cents for each ounce or fraction for the letter and 10 cents for the special delivery service.

Q—Name some animals that store

A—Bluejays, squirrels, woodpeckers.

Q—Is Kappa Psi a professional fraternity? .

A—-It is a fraternity

Q—What is the largest item in the operating expenses of railroads? A—Labor.

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“Stop sulking, Wilbur. Y ou can go out as soon as you play that piece as Chopin INTENDED it to be played.”

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to assume a defeatist attitude. Cer-

sible if war unfortunately comes in spite of all our endeavors for peace. ~—Benito Mussolini.

The job of the politician is the high art of compromise.—Prof. T. V. ‘Smith, University of Chicago.

In the House, nothing has been done for 100 years to bring our procedure up to date.—John J. O’Con-

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Italy will not be held respon-

nor, New York, chairman, U. 8S.

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The toughest person in the world to handle is a woman.—C. F. Dob-

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