The Syracuse Journal, Volume 22, Number 12, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 18 July 1929 — Page 7

OUR COMIC SECTION ) Events in the Lives of Little Men I J 'TS fe Q IBf ! Com’on snCra THE \ 9Vm I VUATESII W-? ■ 3&rT3t/ I f J®/ - W -wSoL i ’I 1 11 III . 1& BRSVONE.IH <B/Xsl=XO ~> r (CopyrW.W.N.o.) _______ -^~~ lll . L__ FINNEY OF THE FORCE Tut, Tut, Michael />^i- \ aS/w!^. /» “*“ v /u»lslw ? m wrrcM A' ! Jsswrxwz'r - rL ~ vTjw&fflT 7 N-j. JB felh'T-nffr I—t 1 — t O. ex m jmmhewt lUfc ft J H y—^<o^-— , hAiJj§!fViMio* f=> KMO*I AOTWIOBILE rtOOEVS \ OcX W3W. =7 ( I SWEEPtN* T .- ? -n w, 011 1 b pS| -f|L_ pwwk n rtiW ' Mil >< 'XmX oWMteraNmw>rUnion I , ||1 l( / / RUr»'» THE FEATHERHEADS Fanny Mended Her Nose Herself /wtu.ifs vscv siuvv- fanmy\ IT .n?P 5 >^ z J?mx,A lithe piece -SSSa /GETTWfiINAHOFFCMERMV Q i fW JEWELRY SEEMS TO MT ) flB = N> BEIMG &MPLY COURTEOUS J H / xB' I gg iNoQKQ ToPATCH / V/ 10fl o .;T \ TOWARD A UMMA<I HAD/ 1/ kuP a >Jkk^°^ ASAGIQ bP 1 WO# Z 7 ''Wt<J WRTSrzO wtW , i^“==== :: =7 CLOTHES, FELIYI-YOoX f \ « ) V/ 7A \ I 1 II WcAMTMiMD.OFeoURSE.SWCEX I\ * J SAFRAIDILLHAVE \ E| W*X>R OWN wire ceriwy |lhL# !iB F; A |X DESERVES TO APPEAR A$ j X/ ’ • ' M '-7 \J?/pu«CHASE MOMEV/ H NICE TbVDOAS THAT CHUD;// 7 / 4 ' ' l XWX 'W 1 LWhood fl Abqe of yours /// v , I W\ _Ah W x jsy® p’liL z ' v IMBLxwCmW #u i 1 IMirll'l 1

Women Did It When one is waiting in a barber - shop for his “turn” and listens to a man telling the barber bow to comb his hair and shave his neck one has a greater respect for a fussy old maid.-r Atlanta Constitution. Wrong View of Death We look at death through the cheap-glazed windows of the flesh, and believe him the monster which the - cracked and flawed glass represents him.—Lowell.

May Kill Beetles There seems to be a possibility that the leaf of the common geranium plant may offer a means of getting rid of the Japanese beetle. It has been observed that the beetle Is attracted to the plant by the odor and after feeding upop its leaf it becomes paralyzed and falls to the ground. The result is usually fatal. Further investigations In this direction have shown that the plants which grow in the strong sun*

shine are more effective as an insecticide than tbose which have been grown in shady spots. The study of the geranium as an insecticide is being continued, with the hope that iti will prove of some commercial value. Not Especially Helpful “Our ancestors,” said Hi Ho, the’ sage of Chinatown, “with all their wisdom, leave us to meet new con ditions. They thought demons of unrest could be eliminated by the use of firecrackers.”—Washington Star

THE SYRACUSE JOURNAL

THE A BLADE or picardy^3U_ x z*> iBhI I \iA BY wJI HW FRED M£LAUGHLIN /( I ll* ® IT xv COPYRIGHT Sy ’’Mi The BOMS-MERRILL Ctt W.N.U. SERVICE.

SYNOPSIS Capt. BYancols de Vigny, serving with Maximilian’s army In Mexico, tells the story. A roystertng group of officers is discussing La Anita, who, rumor says, has lured French officers to death or desertion. Summoned by Maximilian to make explanation. De Vigny undertakes to deliver the message to La Anita. At La Anita’s home De Vigny meets Colonel 'Lopes, Mexican officer and the girl’s cousin, Pablo Madrella, who bears a wonderful resemblance to De Vigny, except that he wears a beard. Angered that Anita should be called before the emperor, Madrella forces a duel on De Vigny, in which the Mexican is wounded. Assisting Madrella to his carriage. De Vigny picks up a paper that falls from his pocket. It proves to be a pass, granting Madrella passage through the Mexican lines. Laid before Maximilian, it is. of course, Madrella’s death warrant, since it proves him a spy. Questioned by Maximilian, La Anita denies luring French officers to danger, and is given her freedom. De Vigny secures leave of absence, planning, while Madrella is wounded and under guard, to grow a beard add impersonate him, with the idea of securing information of Juarez* movements. Dressed as Madrella, he enters La Anita’s home by stealth and overhears a conversation between Madrella and Lopez which proves the latter a traitor to Maximilian. Lopez has secured Madrella’s release and the latter Is ’eaving at once for Juarez* :amp. He reaches Cuernavaca about the same time as the real Madrella. An unsuccessful attempt is made by Madrella to kill De Vigny. Believing him to be Mairella De Vigny is welcomed by Juarez. De Vigny saves Cuernavaca by convincing Juarez, who had planned to seize the that the French garrison is too strong.

CHAPTER Vll—Continued “If Pablo,** said the general, "can remove a beard and become Captain de Vigny, why cannot De Vigny grow one and become Madrella? And if De Vigny had considered such a step he would, of course, first acquaint himself with intimate details of Madrella’s life—would he not?” “Undoubtedly, excellency, else he should fail out of hand.” In mental torture. I hung on the brink of despair. What would be his next question? “There is one obstacle De Vigny would never surmount, one bit of evidence he could not possess. That evidence would remain, at all costs, tn the keeping of Pablo Madrella, for it is his life. If you can produce that. Pablo, well and good; if not, you are Indeed unfortunate.” “And that, excellency?” said 1, wondering if Besancon, as a last resort, would really shoot, and give us a chance for our lives. “Only a piece of paper," said Juarez, “on which has been written, and signed by me. an order passing Pablo Madrella y Gutierrez through the Lib eral lines." He waited, while, with trembling fingers, .1 fumbled through my pockets, finally bringing to light that potent pass. He read it with knit brows and, returning it to me, heltf out his hand. “You’ll forgive me, Pabio; 1 must be certain, and so much depends upon me. I feel, somehow, that Mexico lives or dies with me; that all the cares of this unhappy land have descended upon my shoulders.” In the long silence that followed this speech the general pressed my hand in an Iron grip. "I must give my country my best.” “Each one of us, excellency, is trying to do Just that,” said 1, and Leroux smiled at my double entendre. “There is a task for you, Pablo.” Juarez produced a sealed letter. “We must attend to Miguel Lopez; he is dangerous. I have arranged for Maximilian to pay the colonel for his treachery.” The general smiled. “This war of ours is more of intrigue than of arms. You will deliver this communication to and I shall see that it is found upon him.” “Such a task will be one of pleasure. excellency.” “I assume, Pablo, that you will have delivered this within forty-eight hours, and my other communication will be timed accordingly.” So. as we stood rigid and erect, he hade us good night. “That," said Leroux, "is that —and a closer sbavel never want to see!” He grabbed his glass of wine and bolted it. “We owe' our lives, Rene.” I said, “to that ready wit of yours. You must escape this night, both of you.” Rene’s eyes questioned me. “Don’t you understand?” 1 cried. •‘Madrella may come at any time; even if be doesn’t this hoax cannot be kept long under cover. Benito Juarez will soon find out the trick that has been played upon him." “Suppose he does, Francois—what then?" “What then? Are you mad, Rene; cannot you see? Soon the night will have gone, and with it your chances tor escape.” “We will stay with this thing that we have started, Francois. After our coup de main has been accomplished we will consider means of escape, and not before. As Louie has said, a great tattle may, some day, bang in the bal-

ance, and then two soldiers oil' the Empire . • .** I gave It op. Ah, Moo Dleu bad I known—had 1 been able to see into the future—l should have insisted upon their flight; or, failing in that, I should have stayed longer with them, talking in the moonlight. CHAPTER VIII Dolores At Treinta I found Senor Perez tn a high state of nerves. Because ot lack of time 1 had, perforce, to fore go the hospitality of his bouse. I told Don Felis. however, that Juarez loved him and that he would not forget him; and I explained the loss of my beard. As he had seen the general put an arm around me. and had heard him call me I’ablo, any explanation —or none—would have sufficed. That pass of Madrella had proved to be a valuable find indeed. 1 was going home, for the City of Mexico—since the coming of La Anita Into my life—had suddenly assumed the role of borne. France, somehow, seemed very far away. The city had been—before my meeting with the beautiful lady of Avenlda Flores—merely, a pleasant playground, for tne duties of a staff officer are never very hard. But this great love ot mine—though hopeless, for she had forbade me the house—had given life a deeper significance; bad made of this sweet world of ours something great er by far than a playground; had lifted the goal of my ambition and desire up among the very stars. Now, like the good general that 1 hoped some day to become. 1 builded a complete mental picture ot the ground that lay before me. Lestrange was an obstacle that might—because of the lie 1 had told Madrella —re removed by that worthy himself; a possibility that pleased me not a lit tie, for Captain Lestrange had been guilty of the blackest treachery. Second: Col. Miguel Lopez, whom I would have to reach through the emperor; if, indeed, Pablo did not come to my aid in this direction also. And last—but twfc/mo means least—Madrella. Aside from the service to our respective countries there lay between Madrella and me a potent personal hatred that might have been traced to the lovely lady of Avenlda Flores, and that would die. 1 feared, only with the death of one or both of us. Evidently he had made no attempt to follow me to Puente de Ixtl a: I

•I I I OLA. f iO “We Owe Our Lives. Rene,” 1 Said, “to That Ready Wit of Yours."

assumed, therefore —for 1 bad no thought that the blow on bis head had killed him—that he would be in Cuernavaca, awaiting me. or that be had returned to Mexico City to confront Lestrange and Lopez, if 1 did not find him tn Cuernavaca, there would be, 1 was sure, an interesting time ahead of me when I should reach the City of Mexico. Os course. Pasqual, at the crossing of the arroyo, may have stopped him; but, in spite of all my confidence tn Pasqual. there was a serious doubt in my mind of the Indian's ability to accomplish that If Neville, with the advantage of his size and strength and shrewdness, had failed This, at least, could be settled, for there was Pasqual. He let out a cry of welcome, and came down the ridge with the surefooted swiftness of an antelope. “Ah, Pasqual,” said L “buenos dias.” “But the beard, senor?" 1 laughed. “A beard, Pasqual, is but the mantle of the moment to be cast aside as the need for it departs. Besides, I do not care to look tike the bearded man who visited me in the gloom of early morning yesterday. Have you seen him, Pasqual?” He shook his head. “He has not come this way.” “Then he waits for me tn Cuernavaca, eh? In that case, Pasqual we must hasten, for there are many things to do.” The Indian considered his burro, which stood—head pendant, eyes

closed, ears drooping—beside the road. •Can one hasten on such a beast, senor?” “Get up behind me; he will carry both with ease.” The burro, by dint of walking a while and then putting on a spurt of wild galloping, managed to keep tn sight as the sturdy mountain pony, with that swift running walk of his. put the miles behind us. “A good horse, senor,” said Pasqual. in my ear. “Aye; Tm going to give him to you and Dolores —as a wedding present.” “Ah—senor !* “Indeed. He will help you put in a crop of grain, Pasqqal, and he will help you harvest it. Os a Sunday, and sometimes of an evening, he will —if harnessed to one of those light, two-wheeled carts seen in the city and purchased for a few pesos—carry you and Dolores far. Your station In life will be greatly enhanced thereby’* “But rhe horse is a thing of great value, senor, and you—” “Is my life a thing of small value Pasqual, and did you not risk your own to save it? This horse is all in my payment for your service; besides. 1 am presenting him also to Dolores." Now a long silence fell between us. to be broken by the grateful Indian only as we entered the outskirts of Cuernavaca: “Will you go with me. senor, to see Dolqres; It will be u day long remembered In our lives? Dolores will want to see you to thank you. I would have her happy." “1 shall be pleased to know Do lores; I would tell her also of thy service to me, and of my gratitude. Few men. Pasqual. are worthy.” We stopped before a tiny house with red-tiled and walls that were plastered and painted a rich brown with border of red. Pasqual whistled, it was a perfect imitation of the call of the slate-gray partridge. “We will wait—a little; eh, senor?" “Yes, Pasqual; we will always wait.” In five minutes the white front door opened and a figure came out, a fig ure in a simple dress of golden brown with a purple mantilla over tbe straight black hair. She was small and slim, with the light and easy grace of a fawn; and, as she ran swiftly into the arms of the bronzed, broad-shouldered man who stood at the gate, a great longing possessed me, and my mind raced ahead to rhe city—and. perchance, to the lady—that I would see before the sun had set. With heads close, they talked together for half a minute in swift liquid Spanish, then Pasqual turned to me. “Senor. this is Dolores.” “But Pasqual mio,” she said, smiling, “what do 1 call him?” “Pancho," said 1, giving the Span ish for my Christian name. She extended a hand, and 1 lifted it to my lips, bowing with all the grace at my command. “For so small a service, Dulce mia," said Pasqual. “the senor has given me money enough for our marriage, and—” “As he had saved my life, Dolores, tbe service was not so small.” ‘And for a wedding present," continued Pasqual. “he has given us the horse, which will help us with that little farm of mine. I—l wanted him to see you." Now she turned to me again. She my sleeve. “Senor Pancho," she said softly, “we would like to show our gratitude to thee.” She stood on tiptoe, and in the shining eyes that studied my face with such an earnest, childlike eagerness 1 saw a sudden mist of tears ; Reading approval in Pasquai’s smile I took the sweet brown face in both my hands and kissed It reverently. “Gracias." she whispered, thank tng me. ‘‘ So I left them; brave, honest, trustful Pasqual—whom I had tricked most grievously—and his lovely little Dolores. I am not proud Os that questionable bit of deception, yet I have the consolation of knowing that, with the coming of the final test. Pasqual showed me that he loved me for myself. • •••••• I met, on the street tn front of the Hotel Montezuma, Lieutenant Bru giere; he who had suggested to Pas qual that rhe old man mount tbe horse. “Is it Francois?" said he, staring. “None other, Brugiere. and dryer by far than the Sahara. I have come many leagues; where is there a good drink?" He put an arm over my shoulder “A good drink is not to be had this side of our beloved Case Miramon. but an indifferent drink may be obtained from the far Manuel, who sits yonder on the porch of his hotel like an over-ripe spider waiting for a fly; tfibugh that broad white turhan on his head gives him more the appearance of a Turk.” “He’s not a Turk. Brugiere," said 1; “he’s a Tartar; and the turban. I think, is a bandage.” As we mounted the steps Manuel lifted himself from the capacious chair with vast labor and a repressed groan of pain. He held the massive door open tor us and then preceded us to the bar, where he put out glasses and a bottle or two., standing the while, with fingers outspread, as we poured our drinks. Brugiere. who knows wines as every man who has lived tn Dijon should, held his glass to the light “A pity." said be. “that a country so rich in fruits should be so poor in drinks. Is tills, Manuel, the best you have? Our friend has traveled far.” Manuel shook his head. “This wine," said he, “is all.” “Did your brains explode?" questioned Brugiere, bis eyes on tbe swathed head, “or—?" “I fell, senor,” said the bandaged man; “it was dark in the hallway. 1 stumbled, and my head, by evil fortune, came in contact with a chair.” “Are you sure, Manuel," said 1, “that it was a chair. Might it not have been a stool?” “A stool, senor?" “Aye, a stool," said I, "a heavy, three-legged stool, which swinging free in the semidarkness, might, perchance, have come in contact with thy head?" —

Now the bloodshot eyes focused upon me. and. during that critical scrutiny, I stroked a beardless chin—and waited. Recognition came - slowly. His great body shook, his pudgy hands gripped the bar and a greenish pallor of fear settled on bls face. Finally d sofihd—riding on that gasping breath of his—came forth: “Senor I" Brugiere laughed. “Is ’Senor all you can say to us, Manuel, after such vast preparation?” Manuel's eyes never left my face. “I think," said L “that it was • stool," “Yes, senor, 1 am sure it was—now that I reconsider IL” His eyes sought the floor. “And, Manuel, you might," 1 continued. “be able to find some wine for us that may prove more smoothly caressing to the palate—is It not so?” “I will see, senor; will you wait?" "What is it" questioned Brugiere, wondering; “do you have, in your eyes, the light of Aladdin’s lamp, or—?” “Not at all. my friend; 1 merely had. In my band, that stool which came in contact with his head.” Manuel brought fresh glasses and poured out with a shaking hand that precious fluid for us. Lieutenant Brugiere lifted his glass, smefled the wine, and raised it to the light. “Nectar.” he cried, “a drink fit for the gods!” “Not so hasty,” said I; “Manuel will drink with us." “Ah—senor.” said that worthy, deprecation and—l was certain—fear in his voice. “It is too great an honor.” “I must Insist” “Ah—no!” I leaned over the bar. “Must 1 put my fingers around that fat neck of thine, Manuel, while my friend pours this wine into thee?" “Mercy—a little,” be cried. “1 have other wines—and better than this “Then bring it quickly." While bp bad gone to do my bidding I poured our “nectar” out upon the sawdustcovered floor. “Would he be so mad as to poison us?" There was a touch of awe in the voice of Lieutenant Brugiere. “It is not such a madness, friend of mine; he has much—lncluding his life—to lose. If I approach the com-

It Wuvwrlffl SxX Now We Ran a Race With the Sun.

mandant with my story it will place the good Manuel before a firing squad, and he knows it.” Manuel filled three glasses and, with a murmured apology, drank his hastily; but we lingered over our own, showing—as we should —proper respect and appreciation for so rare a vintage. . Having taken the edge off my thirst 1 stabbed Manuel again with a vindictive eye. “Where is be?" I questioned. “Where is—who. senor?” “Madrella.” “He is not here; 1 swear It.” “If I search this place, Manuel, and find him—” “I thank God, senor, that he has gone; he has brought only evil to my house." “Did he go south.” said L "or back to the city?” “He went back, senor. Before God, 1 tell only the truth. He left here for Mexico City less than two hours ago.” “In a uniform?” Manuel shook his head. “He was dressed as the peon Is dressed, and be took one of my burros away with him. It will be, for him. a wearisome journey.” “Aye." said 1. "for he may never reach the end of it.” Now I turned to Brugiere. “We will finish the wine, my friend, then you will be required to produce a horse and a uniform for me. because 1 must hasten to the city. A horse that can make the trip in less than half a day.” “You shall have the horse, Francois; a fast one, with a heart of gold, who should use no more than four hours for your trip. And a uniform is yours, and any other thing you may desire, for this day you have bestowgd upon me a great and lasting favor. Never again shall Manuel sell me indifferent wine!” • •••••• Now we ran a race with the sun, which, when we left Cuernavaca, had stood straight overhead. Mercqry, the mount of Lieutenant Brugfere. was a thoroughbred. The rugged crest of the barrfer range that towered above us grew swiftly nearer. The valley slopes opened out to our approach, and. as we entered, closed again. Before the day was done I must gain audience with his majesty, and show him Cuernavaca’s danger, for Benito Juarez had all of fifteen thousand men at Puente de ixtla. Cuernavaca must be held at any cost. I must block effectually and finally all further activity of Pablo Madrella; the pass that rested even now in my pocket would accomplish this. I must denounce Lestrange, and show him up as a traitor to the Empire; and I must convey to the ears of Maximilian the things that I knew about Lopez. (TO BE CONTINUED.)