Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 3 July 1937 — Page 15

PAGE 8

'URDAY, JULY 8, 1987

By Sylvia

OUR WAY

OH, THAT'S JUST TH' DOPE DVIN' OUT = THEM HORSE TRADERS GOT A WAY OF FIXIN' 'EM UP SO THEY'LL PRANCE ALL THE WAY HOME » PRETTY HALTER THEY GIVE YOU WITH HIM =~ WHAT'S THAT, A SPAVINE M-M-M-« a BOWED TENDON,<00! WHY, 1 BELIEVE HE'S HIPPED ~ TURN HIM

TAKE HM BACK D

AND DEMAND YOUR MONEY! GO TO THE

SUPERSTITION MOUNTAIN

talk,” she told him. “I have even forgotten to worry.” She regretted the admission instantly. She bit her lip and frowned. He was looking at her,

kindly but intently.

CAST OF CHARACTERS CAROLEE COLTER, heroine, prospector’s daughter. STUART BLAKE, tourist; Carolee’s lover. HENRY COLTER, prospector. PAUL AND SILAS COLTER, prospec-

She liked Stuart Blake. She told herself she could love him even, if things ever went that way. He seemed—well, clean. He had never tried to kiss her. (Sometimes, she [confessed to herself, she even

eastern “dude”

tor's sons, NINA BLAKE, Stuart’s sister.

Yesterday: The Colters find Stuart in the mountains, rescue him and re-

| wished he had!) And his gift, this | beautiful bracelet of Indian silver, | was something she'd never forget.

{She'd rather have had it than a

thing of diamonds. It was a part of Arizona, actually and senti-

| mentally.

turn him te Superstition Lodge. CHAPTER NINE (CaroLES hung out a sheet at 9 o'clock the next morning. | She was hard put to find an ex-| cuse for it. It simply wouldn't do to have her family know she was sigraling Stuart Blake. She felt guilty, like a mischievous child, | when she stole out of the camp | shack and hurriedly attached the sheet to the clothesline. And soon | after she stole out again and took | it down. At 10 o'clock she was at | the trysting place on Chieftain. Stuart came soon after she arrived. “I wasn’t sure you'd be able to | make it,” she said. “But I wanted to know how you were. I would have ridden on to the Lodge.” “I'm perfect. Almost. Thanks again for helping me. I just needed water. Another day without it and I'd have been tied up plenty, I imagine.” “You didn’t look very happy.” “But I feel happy today. Especially now.” “Why? What's happened?” She thought she knew what he meant, but she wanted to hear him say it.

“¥'M with you.” He leaned on his saddle horn and looked appealingly at her. “Carolee, you told me once I'd never understand your kind of people, as you call them. Tell me, why do you think that? Aren't we all Americans?” “Yes. But—you're northern, and city reared. Papa and the boys have been poor farmers all their lives. | They mean well. They are good to me. But they are—narrow, I guess; | and hard.” “But yourself, Carolee, You aren't that way. You're alert and smart. You don’t have to stick with your family and all, do you? I mean, not always.”

HE wasn't sure she understood him. “I guess not. But I'm one of them, anyway. I think you are nice, though; I don't ever hold a grudge, and I'll admit again that we were very rude in the saddle store that day.” “Oh, forget that. That's history, and more funny than anything. Look, milady, I've brought you a gift. It’s little enough for the favor you did me yesterday.” He gave her a small parcel. She dimpled at him, and the vision she made sent thrills through him. Carolee Colter was pretty, sweet, refreshingly so. She wore rouge often, but it was superfluous. And her curls were natural. She was slightly short, weighed, perhaps, 115. There was ever-so-delicate a snub to her nose. Stuart studied her closely as she unwrapped her gift. “O-0-oh! Stuart!” She lifted it from its tissue—a bracelet of silver set with the most perfect of turquoise. One large stone was shaped like an arrow head, barbs and all. Tiny round ones followed the open circle of the bracelet — beautiful blue-green gems which Carolee knew were native to the Arizona hills. The silver was heavy and richly adorned with tiny sun symbols, a swastika, a running horse, a wiggly snake, Indian signs all. “Old Hosteen made it for me,” said Stuart. “Or rather for you. He comes to the Lodge sometimes. He's not Apache, like the squaws you saw. He's Navajo.”

HE slipped it on her lovely arm. She held it out, up. “The stones match the sky,” she almost whispered, so keen was her admiration. “It's beautiful, Stuart. Thank you, very, very much.” “I'm happy if you like it, Carolee.” “Then you're happy, very happy.” “I hoped it would please you. I have never seen you wear a bracelet before.” She looked wistfully at him and smiled more sweetly than he had ever before seen her, he thought. “I don't have one. Boys in school gave me candy, and sometimes flowers. Nobody ever gave me jewelry before. Not even my parents.” She was speaking very gently. It was obvious that he had touched her; a hint of tears even glistened, and to save her possible embarrassment he turned to the scenery again. “It's a fur piece across there, as the cowboys say, isn't it? I wonder how the Tribune Tower would look sitting out there, Or the Merchandise Mart.” “The—what?” him. “Ha! Ha! That's Chicago, Carolee. Two of our big skyscrapers. They'd look tiny beside any little mountain out here, though.” “What is Chicago like, Stuart?” “Like-—like a nightmare sometimes. Noisy and crowded and ugly. Not always, though. I've had swell times there. You'd love it for a while. But any city is a little synthetic, I think.” “You mean you think it isn't real? The people? ‘The fun? Everything?”

She looked up at

=» ” »

Y talked for an hour about Chicago. She asked many questions. Dallas was the biggest city she had ever seen, and that only to pass through. She had gone to school at a junior college in Jacksonville, Tex. Acquaintance with a man from the bustling, energetic, urban North was stimulating to her.

When it was time to go she thanked him again, and agreed to meet him often on signal. She discouraged any thought of his calling at her shack home, even to take

her riding. “It has been lovely to see you and

“Something's wrong,” he said. “I have butted in on your family affairs too much already, but—" “It's probably nothing alarming,” she forced a smile. “I—I think your experience in the mountain upset me a little, is all. I'm so happy you didn’t suffer more. I may not signal tomorrow, but I will let you know if ever I need you, Stuart.” To both of them it seemed a very natural thing for her to say.

(To Be Continued)

Daily Short Story

NO HERO—By H. E. Howard

“It Had Progressed to

T the time she married Ronnie, the thought had been optimistically uppermost in her mind that, since marriages were reputedly made in heaven, she was due for long years of unalloyed bliss. Mary failed to take into account the fact that it requires more than a celestial trademark to keep any marriage going. The fact that she was marrying out of a poor family probably accounted for a large section of the roseate hue which settled over her prospects, for the comparative luxury Ronnie could afford to keep her in seemed like heaven itself. Managing the salary of an investment broker was a lot better than trying to get along on an underpaid store clerk's salary, which mostly went home to the family! And so Mary left the milieu of the department store basement and the squalor of the dilapidated flat uptown with few, if any, regrets. She couldn't do much worse than that! Besides, Ronnie was nice, in a refined sort of way, even if he wasn't the exact answer to the young maiden's dream. But Mary reflected that you can't have everything in life. She would take what was offered to her and make the best of it!

» = ”

ONNIE, on the other hand, was as ecstatic over the marriage as his rather staid, conservative soul would permit him to be. Like everything in his life, he looked forward to having their marriage move precisely along conventional lines. He realized, of course, that he was a bit older than Mary, and that he was set in his ways. But love would doubtless erase any small ciscrepancies like that! Erase them it did . . . for four years or so. And then came the fateful day when Ronnie decided to take a partner and expand his growing business still further. Of course the idea of it all was to provide even Fol things for Mary. He loved er. Mary had proved to be an excellent wife, learning for his benefit to be the perfect helpmate for a rising business man. Dinners for business associates and brokerage prospects had come to be flawless occasions under her guidance. Any slight misgivings he might have entertained of Mary's yearning for bright lights had soon vanished.

5o the quiet pool of his domestic arrangements she had dropped without causing even a ripple, gradually taking over management of his home as she learned all the things she had never dreamed of in her tenement existence. It was practically a perfect setup. When Ronnie suggested that they have a small dinner party as a welcoming gesture to Grant, his new junior partner, Mary, as usual, evinced no untoward curiosity about the matter, except for inquiring the number of guests she

would have to expect and when. But when Ronnie introduced her

a Clandestine Stage.”

to Grant it was another matter entirely, and it was with a queer feeling inside that Mary recognized a quick flash of something approaching recognition pass between them. All during dinner she puzzled over it with one-half of her mind, while with the other she kept conversation moving. The young man's eyes disconcerted her whenever she chanced to catch them upon her during dinner and afterward. And it finally dawned upon her that he was a prototype of the man she used to dream of years ago. That accounted for the familiar feeling. It made her uncomfortable —and excited! She wondered what he really was like.

HAT followed was in the best traditions of the repressed wife, the unexciting husband, and the dashing young hero. At first, Mary honestly intended merely to appease her curiosity about the aggressive young partner, who looked more like the stroke on a college rowing crew. But in the frequent following evenings when he dropped in to talk to Ronnie, she found herself becoming definitely intrigued. And Grant turned on the tull force of his personality in response and it was considerable. Honest Ronnie never suspected a thing, even when it had progressed to a clandestine stage. They had even decided to tell him, and ask him to free Mary, before he had an inkling of the state of affairs. Marv had decided that she could respect Ronnie, but not love him. He was too calm, too unnoticing. Probably he didn't love her either, actually!

T is to Ronnie's credit that he took it with grace. Mary found the situation thrilling. . . . Grant standing there tall and very masculine, confronting the short, unruffled husband. It was a great thing to have courage, unwavering faith, to be willing to fight for what one wanted! And all for her . . . that made it doubly wonderful. It was like something out of a book! There was a tense silence while Grant waited for Ronnie's answer and Mary held her breath. Then, unexpectedly, Ronnie looked calmly at the man who towered over him and lashed out with a hard, but inexperienced blow! Mary gasped. She didn't believe what she had just seen. Little Ronnie actually assaulting a man! Grant shook his head and bellowed as he caught Ronnie with a powerful, practiced uppercut which flung him across the room, where he lay dazed for a moment before getting up. And then, to Mary's further surprise, he got up, his mouth bleeding, and wavered uncertainly back toward Grant, his fist drawn back.

. * ARY looked at Grant, a bestial,

raging look on his face as he set himself to annihilate the smaller

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WAKES UP, TELL HIM WE'RE STOPPING AT THIS POST OFFICE TO MAIL A LETTER !

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IN TH’ GOQP OL’ WOOzIE Na N 1% RESTOR! ™

ASK THE TIMES

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—In sending a card announcing the birth of a baby with the date, name and weight of the baby inscribed in writing, how much would the postage be in an unsealed envelope? A—The cards are first-class mail whether sealed or unsealed and the postage is 3 cents for out-of-town and 2 cents in town. Q—Is it correct to say, “The sun shines bright,” instead of “shines brightly?” A—Webster's New International Dictionary gives the following example of the use of bright as an adverb: “I say it is the moon that shines so bright.” (Shakespeare. Another example is in the following quotation from Adam de St. Victor: “Now that the sun is gleaming bright.” Q—What causes waltzing mice to spin round and round? A—A defect in the labyrinth of the ear. Q—What names have been applied to the American War of 1861-65? A—The War of the Rebellion, the Great Rebellion, the War of Secession, the War for Southern Independence, the War Between Sections, the War Between the North

NOW, JUS WAIT'LL I SEE OU KING GUZ= MY PRESTIGE WILL

I KNOW.. we BUT YOU CAN'T TELL ME A TRAMP WOULD HAVE $514 IN HONEST MONEY IN HIS

THE MAN IN ATCHISON WAS RIGHT! TUMBLE

TOUGH, HE'S ‘A STRANGE BIRD.

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GUESS HE FIGURES A BIRD IN THE BUSH IS

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| FOOZY 1S GETTING IN A FEW GOOD LICKS =

AN' HIS POWER, TOO" / SO IVE COME HERE) you) WILL TELL ME

HUH! SPOSE FIRST'THING

“TR Cop. 1937 by PIN

Ine.

“Things have perked up since we enlisted the aid of that collection agency.”

and the South, and the War Between the States. None of these names seems to be as widely ace cepted as Civil War.

between them before the inevitable could occur. “You'd better go, Grant!” she said.

man. Ronnie never wavered in his slow advance. Mary flung herself

Ice Cold

He hesitated and then stalked off. Ronnie sagged weakly against

Mary's shoulder, but the determined look was still in his eyes. Mary held him tight, kissed his bruised mouth, “I was wrong, Ronnie,” she whispered tenderly. “I was mistaken in what I thought was heroism. Can you ever forgive me?” The calm look had returned to

Ronnie’s face. He sald nothing . . . merely smiled and patted Mary's shoulder, He knew she would never forget! THE END

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WASHED UR, AN'HIS POWER GONE, ILL TAKE OVER HIS

(80 TH GRAND WIZER'S ALL WASHED UP, 15 HE 12}

CROSSWORD PUZZLE

HORIZONTAL Famous American relic pictured

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