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About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (March 5, 1925)
THE LOST WORLD] By SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE ^ ' J\ <Co. :: • ,1 I.-ra UnttriUj.) "Our young frler.d certainly said something of the kind. He is also the one among ui who la endowed with that Celtlo temperament which would make him eensltlve to such Impression*.’* "The whole theory of telepathy—” began Summerlee, filling hla pipe. "Is too vast to be now discussed,” said Challenger, with decision. "Tell me, now,” he added, with the air of a bishop addressing a Sunday school, “did you happen to observe whether the creature could crose Its thumb over Its palm?” “No, indeed." "Had It a tall?'* . "No.” ' "Was the foot prehensile?” “I do not think It could have made off so fast among the branches If It could not get a grip with its feet.” “In South America there are, If my memory serves me—you will check the observation, Professor Summer lee—some thirty-six species of mon keys, but the anthropoid ape is un known. It Is clear, however, that he exists In this country, and that he Is n,ot the hairy, gorilla-like variety, which Is never seen out of Africa or the east.” (I was Inclined to inter polite, ns I looked at him, that I * had seen his first cousin In Kensing ton). "This is a whiskered and col orless type, the latter characteristic pointing to the fact that he spends his days in arboreal seclusion. The question which we have to face is whether he approaches more closely to the ape or the man. In the latter case, he may well approximate to what the vulgar have called the ‘miss ing link.’ The solutton of this prob lem is our Immediate duty.” "It is nothing the sort.” said Summeclee, abruptly. “Now that, through the Intelligence and activity of Mr. Malone” (I cannot help quot ing the words), “we have got our chirt, "our one qnd only Immediate duty Is to get ourselves safe and sound out of this awful place." “The* flesh-pots of civilization,’’ groined Challenger. “The Ink-pots of civilization, sir. it Is our task to put on record what we have seen, and to leave the fur ther exploration to others. You all agreed as much before Mr. Malone got us the chart." "Welf.” said Challenger. ”1 admit that mv mind will he more at ease when I am assured that the result of our expedition has been conveyed to our friends. How we are to get down from this place I have not as New York --Day by Day j BY O. O. MTNTYRE On the Atlantic, March 4.—Off the coast of Ireland today we ran Into another “bit of wind, sir.” Yet our nearness to land gave us courage. We will touch Plymouth, the first port of call, In the morning. Then on to Cherbourg where we disem bark. Palms are beginning to Itch. Tip ping time has come The perquisites for a couple crossing the Atlantic amount to about five pounds or $25. This Is exclusive of the gouge for the seamen’s fund. It seems to me some of this should go to widows and orphans of American seamen as It is contributed chiefly by Americans. I understand the most remuner ative Job on a liner is that of the chief smoking room steward. This comes mostly from his rnkeoff of the auction pool nightly which runs into hundreds of dollars. It is a gambling game In which bets are pooled on the next day’s run of the ship. The salary of a liner captain Is about $5,000 a year. Nearly half of of this goes to the British govern ment for taxes. Poor pay for a man who In case of disaster must click his heels and go down with his ship. I have never seen -an auction pool on a ship that didn't have the most officious person on board for the auc tioneer. It seems to he a job for the professional smart alec—one of thpse uncouth, underbred persons who are so well known in New York. This one was no exception, indeed a little worse than most. He was a i loud-mouthed vulgariap ami I was glad to see an American banker and a titled Englishman leave the lounge in disgust. As a matter of fact I see no good reason for the auction pool. It panders to the lowest taste. Despite rough seas and a difficult voyage my only catastrophe Is of a somewhat impersonal nature. The night before leaving New York my portable typewriter gave a few gasps and expired. I was leaving before stores opened and in my dilemma I was aided by Peter B. Kyne, the novelist, who loaned me his. The cas ing made me feel quite Important as Peter has Just circled the globe and It was criss-crossed with bright labels from Hong Kong, Singapore, Bombay, Constantinople and so forth. A lurch of the ship today sent It flying. Springs popped, keys fell out and the ribbon was In a hopeless snarl. It seems altogether useless— which makes It rather hard on the owner. Only the most urgent necessity will make me cross the Atlantic again during winter months. It Is physical ly exhausting and nerve straining. A double tplal for me for aside from my' owij discomfort I was obliged to do a certain amount of work each day. * The usher will now pass smong you with fresh handkerchiefs and all please weep silently. • We were cheered today by the Im provement In the little baby on the way to Capetown who Is 111 with ton allltls. A ship hecomes pretty much like a small town In Its nelghborll ness. There Is light gossip and a closeknlt air of friendliness. And during stormy weather this camara derie Is accentuated. People are Inclined to light reading On liners. Among the books noticed on the promenade deck were "Rugged Waters”—(And why that?), “The Gr^nd Duke’s Finances," “Flaming Youth,” “Mr. and Mrs. Haddock Abroad,” "It. F. D. No. 8” and acres of cross word pur.zle books “White Light Nights,” by a certain author, is In the library but the librarian told me they had not had a single call for It. Already sea gulls sre darting out from England to welcome us with their spiraling and graceful dips. Of all birds, they Interest me most. I can watch “ - I yet an idea. I have never yet en countered any problem, however, which my inventive hrain was unable to solve, and I promise you that tomorrow I will turn my attention to the question of our descent." And eo the matter waa allowed to rest. But that evening, by the light of the Are and of a single candle, the first map of the lost world was elab orated. Every detail which I had roughly noted from my watch tower was drawn out In its relative place. Challenger’s pencil hovered over this great blank which marked the ]akp. "What shall We rail it?" he asked. "Why should you not take the chance of perpetuating your own name?" said Summerlee, with his usual touch of acidity. "I trust, sir, that my name will have other and more per sexual claims upon posterity," said ('hallcnger. severely. "Any ignoramus can hand down his worthless memory by im posing it upon a mountain or a river. I need no such monument." Summerlee, with a twisted smile, was about to make some fresh as sault when Lord John hastened to intervene. "It’s up to you, young fellah, to name the lake," said he. "You saw it first, nnd. by George, if you choose to put. ‘bake Malone’ on it, no one has a better right." "By all means. bet our young friend give It a name,” said Thai lenger. "Then,” said I, blushing, I dare say. as I said it, "let It he named bake Gladys." "Don't you think the Central T-ake would lx more descriptive?" remarked Summerlee. "I should prefer bake Gladys." Challenger looked at me sympa thetically. and shook his great head in nmek disapproval. "Boys will he hoys." said he. "I«ike Gladys let It be." T have said—or perhaps 1 have not said, for my memory plays me sad tricks these days—that I glowed with pride when three such men .as niv comrades thanked me-Jer having saved the situation. As the young ster of the party, not merely In years, hut In experience, character, knowl edge nnd all that goes to make a man, I had been overshadowed from the first. And. now I was coming into my own. I warmed at the thought. Alas! For the pride which goes before a fall! That little glow of self satisfaction, that added mcas ure of self-confidence, were tn lead me on that very night to the most dreadful experience of my life, end ing with a shock which turns my heart sick when I think of it. Jt came about In this way: I1 had been unduly excited by the sdven ture of the tree, and sleep seemed Impossible. Summerlee was on guard, sitting hunched over our small fire, a auaint, angular figure, his rifle across his Knees and pointed, goat like heard wagging with each weary nod of his head, bord John lay silent, wrapped In the floujfi American pon cho which he wore, while Challenger snored with a roll and rattle which reverberated through the woods. The full moon waa shining brightly, and the air was crisply cold. What a night for a walk! And then suddenly came the thought. "Why not?” Sup pose I stole softly away, suppose I made my way down to the central lake, suppose I was back at break fast with some record of the place— would I not in that case he thought an even more worthy associate? Then, if Summerlee carried the day end some means of escape were found, we should return to bondon with first hand knowledge of the central mys tery of the plateau, to wh%i [ alone, of all men. would have penetrated. I thought of Gladys, with her "There are heroisms all round us.” I seemed to hear her voice as she said it. I thought of McArdle. What a three column article for the paper! What a foundation for a career! A cor* respondenceship in the next great war might be within my reach. I clutched at a gun—my pockets were full of cartridges—and, parting the thorn bushes at the gate of our zare, ha. quickly slipped out. My last glance showed me the unconscious Summerlee, most futile of sentinels, still nodding away like a queer mg chatilcal toy in front of the smolder ing Are. I had not gone a hundred yards be fore I deeply repented my rashness. It was dreadful In the forest. The trees grew so thickly and their follaffe spread so widely* that I could sge nothing of the moonlight save that here and there the high branches made a tangled filigree against tlee starry sky. I thought of the despair ing yell of the tortured lguanodorv— that dreadful cry which had echoed through the woods. I thought, too. of the glimpse I had In the light of bord John's torch of that bloated, warty, blood slavering muzzle. Even now I was on its hunting ground. .11 any Instant if might spring upon rpe | from the shadows—this nameless anVl horrible monster. I stopped and picked a cartridge from my pocket. I opened the breech of my gun. As I touched the lever my heart leaped within me. It was the shotgun, not the rifle, which 1 had taken'. Again the impulse to return swept over me. Here, surely, was a most excellent reason for my failure—one for which no one would think the less of Me. Rut again the foolish pride fought against 'that very word. 1 could not—must not—fail. After all. my rifle would probably have been ns useless as u shotgun against such dangers as I might meet. If 1 were to go back to camp to change my' weapon I could hardly expect to enter and leave again without being seen. In that case there would be explanations, and my attempt would no longer be all my own. After a little hesitation, then. I screwed up my courage and continued upon my way, mv useless gun under my arm. The night had been exceedingly still, but ns T advanced I became con scious of a low, rumbling sound, a continuous murmur, somewhere in front of me. This grew louder as 1 proceeded, until at last It was clearly quite close to trie. When I stood still the sound was constant, so that It seemed to come from some sta tionary cause. ’ It was like a boiling kettle or the bubbling of some great pot. boon 1 came upon the source of it. for in the center of a small clearing I found a lake—or a poo!, rather, for It was not larger than the basin of the Trafalgar Square fnun tain—of some black-pitch like at tiff, the surface of which rose and fell in great blisters of bursting gas. The air ahove it was shimmering with heat, and the grounr} round wae so hoV that I could hardly bear to lay my hand on it. It was clear that the great volcanic outburst which had raised this strange plateau so many vears ago had not yet entirely .pent its forces. Blackened rock* and mounds of lava 1 had already seen everywhere peeping out from amid the luxurious vegetation which draped them, hut thla asphalt pool in the Jungle was the first sign th?*t WO had Of actual existing activity on th* Rlope* of the e-afiiv-t crater. (To Bo* Continued Tomorrow.) THE NEBBS Directed for The Omaha Bee by Sol Hess (Copyright 1925) /WMATS *TvC /U0-M ALL f R\G*T. 1UEV A\nV NOO LOOK SO siOTMlW TW MATTER)! 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Pstent Of flee PAGE OF COLORS IN THE SUNDAY BEE Drawn for The Omaha Bee by McManus (Copyright 1925) P“ I THOOCHT TOO LONEEiOME OEM? tDO i ■ |j |T phoned the coomt of 1 |j|J COOPTOr-^ TO COME. O^Ft? AtsO <EEP TOO COMi°AMT' < — ■ :jxr ( huh: JOLLT CLAD L_—^r to TdE-C too y* Cl*2S pv Int t_ FfATuwe Sc*vicr Inc j C(Ml Britain rights rea^rvrH j JERRY ON THE JOB PROMOTION DELAYED. Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hoban fCoovriffht 1925) --• - — ■■ i ■agog——r—— 1 1 “Tutsigs- Goiki To Be. Some, J Proacttoms ^rouwo herb * am? 1 'TuouQurr MAHBE. MOUO b*V J Tb emtbu.t’ws Comte st msc. -tBAGK. '-MAUSER.J Om«W'\NAUC A10N8-■-^ *-^ Tms -reAGKf AMO Sre V*WEC6 at IS "**)/ OM ) IF B'JSR^T'»\MS li* 'TfeAiMS WWIV- // COM£ S'/ A CoPAeETiC * VT T/A VNAU^W y/MO'A AmO J Amt * *A«o >, OM Tue ) l “Tv»sm. / V^teASvCS ?/ /" / \NWATX4aAATTES >VOJ l (hemes. Mmo) / /Am-t scaan op y V /ABout s y (an-ntf u»t» y / PsowoTW y y, 2 y y/ ^7 y_vyi—y YyY 7^ ___ __•'*!» ». !»»«■ fl‘™ ■—r- lir- _.»-»j TILLIE, THE TOILER Tw73 ^.O FULL OF f OH. Mp. romance this morning) veneer I HAD TO e.UV VOU r—jlJ-rM0Se ' -THFS'E. ^LOWJERS,, \ /^Ap_E QOC6E00S II_ CVl/*?L**v_. ANOTHER- UTTLfe \J OH . DEAR suEPR'Se for you- pyoo are BEFORE THE BLOR/»ST ^ROMANTIC vajRAPPED THEM UP [THIS MORN -*OSSEt> EACHj ROSE j *R.\Stej ■ \\ CAN'T STAMt> TVAlS "w? IlONAEB. , I'M eOMNA SOCK [VOU OM THE D»At-, 6.0 .j—' T - *? J*rx^ - 9) <=*■ By Westover r VOU'K-E <301 Mg' TO DO S \ WO'THlM© OF THH \CI WD, H 1 MAC - D'VA- WANY TO S.PO'1-) (. A. <500D TH INS Z \--’ l ftlfTC. Real Folks at Home (the Soda Clerk) By BRIGGS SLI_ I 9UT MO A \ | THINK PRETTY Bl<S DAY LoqK ToX>MY - * , KimDA AjKnM«,l VOAfUM " i__£pLlr.5 /W0MD6RFUL TVllfl'ST“>_t—^ IN THAT wT That amogjat tSl -<*' ( mV '' mads a Boot ThistV I n- ' BANANA FUP5 f HERO .) , 14 HOW HOIO BEST OF V J o-siyxBoDT ON Tm£ ni«mt You rs sjasr Charlie iskj't W£n-dprpuC Bad oh PLAIN! —I HARRy ' URINIK3 BUT UUHE*J " T~ IT COMBS To FRUtT Ju*cej HP ISH’T ior48-TuJO * ThRBP f And *t \ \ TcX/VE A To ECS f- little f £>rim«.s ' There / ) RASPBERRY ISIO^T AKVeoDV (m&taim om cam TOOCM^aae / Wwft. VIST, Vhow-* —' ABIE THE AGENT Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hershfield noon sense. k T I g I J EuEPXBoDV \\ QFnriKX, PliTouS < OK) ACCOUNT OF n 'WESE TEPRiBlE 4 VHOLOUPS'. ^^sFp5 V ^ y-J XT' P’Ym <*0INH, To TKf 'W' weu. Qoa? I POUCE SETARTmEnT Y LUCK To \ KOUI.TO QFr fk h Vou