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About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 7, 1924)
I, THE KING By WAY LAND WELLS WILLIAMS. (Copyright, INI.) A- - — (Contiaaed from l«*t*rd»y.) They entered the great manlaba, a ■plendld structure eight feet long and forty high, and called loudly for On gong. He came, attended by most of the population. Kit stood before him and laid down the law. As a first measure he demanded the return of the outraged maidens. These were brought, but failed to show any en thusiasm at the sight of their deliv erers. He then accused the Ten guians of broken promises, bad faith and general damnableness. He de manded reparation In kind and threat ened extinction of the whole race if anything of the kind happened again. He fired his pistol Into the air by way of giving point to his threats. All were Impressed; some of the Tenguians fled shrieking from the place. Ongong, however, remained calm and dignified. His excuse was of course Ignorance; he had not dreamed that the peace of a few days ago included Naltuvi. The expedition had merely been Intended to punish certain transgressions of theirs; a worthless and contemptible people, he said ingratiatingly. However, if Nuel wished to flatter them with his pro tection, so be it. Reparation? Cer tainly; he ordered mats and taro roots and other material In abundance. Kit added to the list some bunches of bananas, a fruit which grew In pro fuslan In Tenguiu. Kit considered the expedition a tri umph, but he was informed by Kh katwla that there would be no peace till all the arm-bearing Tenguians, and more especially that dog Ongong, were under ground. But he was un able to suggest what more could righteously have been demanded of them. The uakana had taken no lives. The next move was made by On gong a day later. He came over once more, bearing presents. There was a great deal of conversation, the up shot of which was that there were two white men, and two Islands. One of the white men was king over one island; why not make his companion king over the other? Kit fairly snapped at the sugges tion. It would be a great thing to have Masson oft the island, more especially now that the arsenal was open; also he was anxious to give the man every possible chance. What he did not see was that the wily On gong would never have suggested the arrangement unless he had Intended to profit by It. “Masson," Kit announced when he had found him, “they want you to be King of Tenguiu. That fellow On gong's over here now. How about it?" "All right," said Masson. He was sitting under a palm tree on the r New York ••Day by Day —' By O. O. McINTYRE New York. Nov. Thoughts white strolling around New York: The serpentine trail of the Sixth avenue elevated. And Impressionistic painting of life. Chrome yellow here. And a drab of bright red there. Al ways the little potted geranium in tenement windows. Passengers nod unmindful of the clatter and shriek of rail agalnt rail, against rail. A wlgged women hold ing timidly to the hand of her white whiskered husband. Ruddy cheeked butchers smelling of blood. Sciualld rooms where the sun never pene trates. Rector street. And The turmoil of Fulton. Horse dravvn drays. Seamen with rolling gaits. Noonday picnic parties lunching on Trinity graves. There’s Ralph Pulitzer, of the world. Marble banks. Next door shoe shine stands and stool lunch counters. A few steps away, Washington street. New York’s little Syria. Brick houses with cobhlestoned courts. Windows displaying amber piped narghiles. Dried fruit. Roots. And mandolins. Coffee houses that sell mud thick coffee served by dark orown men in fezes. Syrian women from the desert big hipped and placid. Rings in ears. Peddlers whose hacks are pilled high with rugs and laces. Signs in Arabic script. ’’Al Hoda”—the Syrian news paper. And not so far away the view of the Statue of Liberty. Old men. parched as a mummy, sewing In the dim lit windows. And young girls hammering brass. First stages of Americanization — the jazz carlor. Coffee being ground in brass mortars. And sold to the click of cash registers. The wharves of West street. Ob frame hotels with projecting porches. The odor of fish, cinnamon, lemons. Two liners being unleashed for n voy age across. Cheers and fluttering handkerchiefs. Tommy Lyman sings In a cheap little cafe In Sullivan street. He Is known as "The Tubercular Tenor” and Is a throw back to the singers of tear-jerking ballads of the saloon back rooms. Tommy is pale and pasty faced. His eyes are dreamy and his voice Just a bit husky—but when he Bings men and women listen. He wetghe about 100 pounds and his voice Is not robust. He must sing for just a table of patrons. There Is something plaintive and appealing about such tawdry tunes ss "Melan choly Baby” and "Dreamy China town.’’ A few years ago Tommy was In Paris at the New York bar Just off the Rue de la Pnix. His was the most popular of all haunts for Amer icana He prospered but be wanted to com# back—back to the dim-lit Sullivan street cafe. “They under stand there,’’ he says. The elemental In song Is slwsys appealing. Few have this gift. It was What lifted Oilda Gray from honky tonk mediocrity to fame. Hilda brought with her the atmos phere of the honky-tonk without the brothel ribaldry. She has no voice but when she sings people listen. My favorite singer—If anyone cares — is John Steel. Aside from a pleas ing vole# he does not mumble hie words. You know what he Is singing. That is mors than you can say for many Metropolitan stars. And despite the fact Main street. Is r>y love, my favorite tune Is "The Sidewalks of New York." It per haps isn’t much of a tune but It Ferris to me to describe the F.nat Side better than nny other song de scribes anything else. It smacks of the days that are gone—when. New York waa New York. (Copyright, 1424.) ocean beach, barefooted, chewing some twig that the natives chewed in default of smoking materials. Ho did not look like a king, nor did he even seem greatly pleased by the offer. ‘‘I’ll take some guns with me,” he added. Kit did not see how he could do otherwise than assent, and reflected that now he would have had to open the arsenal anyway. He could not in conscience have sent Masson un armed among a crowd of savages while he himself had a stack of guns at his back door. “All right. I’ll give you ten* guns and fifty cartridges and that pistol, and keep the same for myself.” "You give me half the whole bunch, see?” "No, I shan't. But It amounts to the same thing. I’ll engage not to take out any more without sending an equal amount to you, If you want them." “I want my half," said Masson. "You’ll have half of what we take out. Here, we'll make It sixteen guns, one pistol end a hundred rounds. Sixteen guns are enough to drill two squads with, if you want to have a Royal Guard.” Masson, with a pistol on his very hip. might at this juncture have In sisted, but he did not. He was stupid, and doubtless he was mollified at the thought of being king over a bigger island than Kit. They counted out the rifles and cartridges, loaded them on the backs of willing natives and followed them down to the land. Mas son was going hack with Ongong, to assume his exalted position as from that day. Kit was on the whole In good spir its. This was the end of some things, and it was not clear what it might he the beginning of; but ho did not see how he could have done differently under the circumstances. They shook hands as they parted; that favor Mas son could hardly refuse now. "By the way, where's Sadie?” asked Kit, as the new monarch flung his leg over the gunwale. “Aren't you going to take her with you?” "Naw," said Masson. CHAPTER VIII. I. He stood watching the triangular sail as it sped up the lagoon before the southeast trade, and all at once, his heart misgave him. A black cloud fell over the world. The ar senal open; two hundred rounds loos’. In the islands, with Masson in com mand of half of them; Masson in a position of power and, more than all. with the advantage of Ongongs brains. And Ongong—he had never abdicated, or pretended to abdicate, for the sake of Masson's bright eyes. He sought out Kakaiwia. "Kak. I have a feeling we haven't seen^ the last of those people. . . ." And Kak’s eyes were like an echo of his own fears. “Nuel. they are sharks, not men. They love to fight—not to protect themselves, or for good, but just f r the pleasure of fighting. And that Ongong. Nuei, no king of Niarava or Tenguiu has even given his power to another of his own accord. And Ongong hasn't done it. He is stiTl king in Tenguiu. And he has aq many guns as we.” Kit shrank from the man's accus ing gaze. "It's a bad business. Yet I don't see how I could have done better, justly. I have the feeling that I’ve given Ongong everything he wanted, in spite of myself." "He wanted the guns,” said Kak mournfully. "He knew that Mattonl wouldn't come without them. And some time he'll try to get the rest." "We won’t let him." “Take them out. then. Nuel! Take them out before he comes, and hide them!” .. -But we’ve no place to put them. Besides, if we know they’re after the arsenal it'll be easier to defend it. Oh. we won't let them have them, Kak. We aren't beaten yet.” A miliatristic note cam® into^ the life; Kit was reminded of the '‘pre paredness'' talk at home in '13 and '16. He immediately started organiz ing his Royal Guard; this body, plunned as a diversion and a gesture, was now a stark necessity. He picked sixteen youths from the cream of tile island and drilled them in two squads for an hour early every morning. The work made them use less for the rest of the day and the heavy guns played havoc with their bare shoulders, but they enjoyed the game and had Implicit confidence in their commander. Tt was pathetic to see them smile whenever he caught their eyes. And their South Sea sense of rhythm enabled them in a short time to drill beautifully, far more precisely than any IT. S. Navy troops Kit had seen. After he had taught them the ele ments of close and open order drill he realized that he must go on. There was no use in troops who could not shoot. These boys had never fired a gun in their lives, and would no douht he ridiculously gun-shy. lie rigged up a target on an unfrequented heach. taught them the trigger-squeeze and told them a thousand times that a rifle was dangerous, hut only at one end.1 In two fairly satisfactory morn Inge of practice he used up nearly all his hundred rounds. He then wrote to Masson: _ "I have used most of my cartridges In target practice and am taking out 50 more. I'll Bend you the same num ber if you want them. Reply by bear er. How are things going? Good luck.—Newell.” It was dangerous. It was bad; but then he had promised. He sent over pencils and paper, which he had neg looted to provide Masson With at first, and the answer, an ungainly scrawl, promptly arrived: “Send me 100, and be quick about it.—Masson.” Kit sent BO. Two days later came another message: “I used alj them up in target practice. Send me 100 more.” This made Kit bite his nails for a whole afternoon, as he invariably did when worrying. Kakaiwia was sure that Masson was lying. “Wait.” he advised. “They can't have fired shots without being heard all Wer the island. 1 can find out it he spoke the truth." He could. having quite as efficient a spy system as Ongong. In due time lie reported that only one shot had been fired on Tenguiu since Masson arrived. *nd that had been directed by the king at a certain ycung lady s husband and had wounded him se verely in the leg. Kit smiled, but Kak did not. It means that he has more shots to fire than vie have," he pointed out. "Nuei don't send him any more. (To Bo Continued Tomorrow.) •'Riches have, wings.” said t'ncU Eben. "Anybody dat u■«• «" *£ flyin* high wants to be a foo ula. financial aviator." — Washington Star.____e* THE NEBBS CONGRATULATIONS. Directed for The Omaha Bee by Sol He»s (Copyright 1924)_ ^ (aT«in®SAtcTs~\ SEE VOU.MQ NEB6, \ TIME TO SEE • l A MR. 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Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Billy DeBecl (Copyright 1921) / Wort) TMI9 OCEAM IS f ROU3M! TM SEASICK -. / 1 WISH 10 MEYER “TAKEaI IHlS / (-Tripto Europe! oH MY', my f STUMMICR FEELS AS weak as a I CATS GRAMDMA- 1 CAaI-T SfARO l TMiS- IMyOOMNA CRoAK. \ 1 Mope Poor srarkY \ t>OESMT FEEL LIKE" IDO I 9 |f Yauj-1 n; Huvi caw Awvowe I| tt EAT FOOD!.-III K The thooohts of I' l it ©vie Me THe I \ SHAKES-- H| I OM mt Poor. \ I SPAPKT— DOIWU I I JH THe BoTToM J OF THE SHtP / Aue bt Himself') BRINGING UP FATHER Registered U. S. Patent Office SEE JICCS AND MACCIE IN FULL PACE OF COLORS IN THE SUNDAY BEE Drawn for The Omaha Bee by McManus fOoprrirht 19241 ___ — -,----- --^ FATHER - OO TOO REALIZE ill TAKE THAT TODAY lt> MR.DOCAN’B HIM THE BIRTHDAY AND TOO ALWAXtJ C|^AR=> PRE*bENT HIM WITH A BO* ANYWAY.’ OF ClOARtJ AND t>PENO ! 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