RICHARD HOFFMANN
COPYRIGHT BY RICHARD HOPfMANN
W.N.U. SERVICE
SYNOPSIS
Following his father’s bitter criti
cism of his idle life, and the notifi
cation that he need not expect any
Immediate financial assistance, Hal
Ireland, only son of a wealthy bank
er, finds himself practically without
funds but with the promise of a sit
uation in San Francisco, which he
must reach, from New York, within
a definite time limit. He takes pas
sage with a cross-country auto par
ty on a "share expense” basis. Four
of his companions are a young, at
tractive girl, Barry Trafford; middle
aged Giles Kerrigan; Sister Anasta
sia, a nun; and an individual whom
he instinctively dislikes, Martin
Crack. Barry’s reticence annoys him.
To Kerrigan he takes at once. Hal
distrusts Crack, but his intimacy
■with Kerrigan ripens, and he makes
a little progress with Barry. Ex
changing reminiscences, she learns
Hal is the son of the wealthy Fred
erick Ireland. Through a misunder
standing, that night, Hal is directed
to Barry's room, instead of his own.
Propinquity seems to soften Barry’s
(apparent unfriendliness, and they
exchange kisses.
CHAPTER V—Continued
“Oh no—thah-nk yon,” said Sister
Anastasia, her eyes grateful and
still amused, her diction trying
carefully to elude the accent that
touched it.
It was an enchanting voice—in
Its gentleness of grace and inner
[assurance that still, as Barry had
[said, kept you from using the word
humble. Hal smiled in pleasure as
lie watched her. And since Barry
[would not meet his eyes—not ac
tually avoiding them but seeming
(to know of no use In meeting them
i—he had double welcome for an Im
pulsive tenderness, brought his tray
of lunch to the empty place be
iside tlie nun.
She spoke only when she was
spoken to; but the restrained ease
of what she said, the smooth, quiet
cadence she gave to each sentence
made it delightful to go on prompt
ing her. They talked of nothing
much that Hal remembered clearly;
how long she had been in America,
the pleasures and imperfections of
crossing the ocean, the view from
the Empire State building, the
world eminence of American cities
In degree of summer heat. And then
Hal had an innocent, urgent desire
to see her blush—a little, once, to
see what she might have been like
as a young girl with a first beau.
And he said;
“Have you heard, Sister, that
California Is a place where the
fruit has no flavor, the flowers no
scent, and the ladles no charm?”
“No,” she said, looking at him in
guileless interest. “I 'ave not 'eurd
that. Is It true?"
“I don't know surely, because
I’ve never been there,” said Hal,
without concealing his pleasure in
her. “I’ve tasted oranges from
there which were sweet; and I’ve
been told that their orange blos
soms at least have the scent they
do In other places. As for the last
part of the saying, I know it will
not be true when you and Miss
Trafford get to California.”
For an instant Hal was afraid
he would have to be ashamed of
himself: Sister Anastasia glanced
quickly away; but then he saw she
was looking toward the other end
of the table where Barry sat, her
head turned from them, intent upon
whatever Kerrigan was telling her.
The nun turned to him again, a con
tained, soft smiling in her look.
‘‘It is a long time since I ’ave
’eurd anything like that,” she said
in tranquil simplicity. She looked
down at her plate, and Hal’s pleas
ure leapt for the faint running-up
of warmth under her cool, lmmac
;ulate cheeks. Then she said, very
softly, “Miss Trafford is beautiful
—inside, too.”
• **•**•
Hal was two places behind Barry
.in the line at the cashier’s window.
iA spectacular woman, past her
twenties, leaned beside it, waiting
until the cashier should be free
again. She wanted a spotlight to
Tone down the heavy mascara on
her eyelashes, the bold make-up of
her lips, the revealing tightness of
her bright dress. She watched Barry
steadily, unaware of being caught:
her resentful eyes moved from de
Tail to detail, calculating the com
position of each effect; her petu
lant mouth, loosely at rest, Indi
cated neither approval nor envy.
Hal was watching the woman's
whole, unconscious Interest when
Barry paid her check.
Barry looked down at Doctor Call
gari, flicked his leash to start him
up, then raised her deliberate glance
to the woman’s face and smiled.
Hal could see Barry’s profile, clear
and candid, and she spoke her low,
friendly “Hullo.” The woman’s sul
len eyes cheered quickly and artless
•dimples came at once beside her ef
ficient smile. As If she recognized
Barry, she said, “Hello, eliteness.”
"Hot out,” said Barry.
“Hot is right,” said the woman.
"Keep outa the sun.”
“Will,” said Barry, a quiet sort of
thanks In her smiling; and her easy,
long-legged walk took her toward
the door, the woman’s look fol
lowing her in contented approval.
Now, why did she do that? Hal
asked himself In uninvited, con
sciously unreasonable Irritation.
He caught up with her outside
the door to the street that seemed
baked, not only by the sun but by
a fanatic furnace just under the
pavement, too.
“Going to walk the Doctor, or sit
in the car?” he said.
"Walk,” said Barry, hardly look
ing at him.
With a single mirthless laugh
at the beginning, he said, “D’you
rather I sat In the car till you’re
finished?”
She looked at him as if she hadn’t
quite caught his meaning. “Come If
you like,” she said.
They walked townrd the princi
pal street and turned Into It—with
out speaking. Then the restive need
to clear something up, to purge
something out of his gathered dis
satisfaction, took sudden charge of
his tongue and he said, “Barry, I
want to talk to you.” And the point
lessness of that was apparent to him
even before he'd finished.
“All right,” she said ineonse
quently. “What about?”
“Not on the main street of Pe
oria at two o’clock In the after
noon,” he said.
“Why not?”
“You know d—n well why not.”
Barry looked at him unsympa
thetically but without anger, and
her low, steady voice said, “In the
first place, I wouldn’t’ve asked If
I knew why not, and In the second
place, throwing d—ns around doesn’t
help me understand you.”
“Oh h—1,” said Hal, more In
vague disgust with himself than
anything ,else.
“That’s not necessary, either,” she
said.
"Barry, what’s the matter?"
“Not a darn thing—with me,” she
said.
“Oh,” he said; and they walked
for another ten paces or so of si
lence. Then, as an accusation, he
said to her, “You didn’t know that
woman you spoke to down there.
Why did you speak to her?”
Barry waited an Instant before
she said, still not turning to him,
“Because I liked her looks; because
some day I may have to put up with
what she has to put up with, and
I hope people speak to me without
thinking they’re smart, or wanting
something.”
“Barry!” said Hal, In the quick
authority he would have used for
the dog.
“You asked me,” said Barry. Her
eyes and brows disclaimed respon
“But I Mustn’t Love You. You
Mustn't Love Me.”
sibility for his reaction. “I supposed
you wanted me to tell you.”
“Barry,” said Hal, with forced re
straint, “tell me something else. Is
last night gone clean out of your
head? Did It mean nothing to you
after I'd left”—and he added with
not wholly convincing bitterness—
“like an idiot.”
She looked round at him, the
clean, long arches of her eyebrows
raised. Then, not as a question but
ironically, to be sure that’s what
he’d said, she repeated, “Like an
idiot.”
He watched her without speaking,
almost wishing her eyes would at
least do him the small honor of an
ger or defiance, not stay In their
cool, remote composure that had
nothing, one way or the other, to do
with him. Then, Just as some
change began somewhere deep in
her blue look, she turned her head
and seemed to walk a little faster,
as If she saw where she had to go.
Hal looked ahead too and said,
with dissatisfied assurance, “I didn’t
mean ‘like an idiot’ and you know
It."
He thought it was because her
ankle had started to turn that her
shoulder came slightly against him.
But then her hand caught his,
brought it half-way up, and pressed
the back of it briefly against her
Jacket, over her heart, before she
gave it back to him. And still she
looked straight before her—a grave
look, at nothing that was in the
street ahead.
In the calm knowledge that
flashed Into abrupt, reckless com
mand of his spirit, that then indeed
became his spirit, his whole living
conviction, he stopped her walking
with his hand at her elbow. She
let her body half turn to his hold
of her, but not her head. That didn’t
matter: she would turn her face
to him In another sure, plain mo
ment. “Barry," he said, ‘‘I love
you. You know that, too.”
She glanced down at Doctor Call
garl, as If she were trying to think
of something that would show how
sorry she was for him. And when
slowly she faced Hal at last, her
eyes were soft with grieving help
lessness.
“I didn’t make you say that." she
snld quietly. “I didn't want you to.
Dear (led! why did you have to
say that?”
“Because I meant It. he tola ner,
strength from extravagant stores
running up to help him pierce most
deeply with the bright rapier of
hls knowledge. "Because I’m too
full of It to wait one more second
of loneliness to tell you in every,
sharp, desperate way there Is that
I love you, Barry—love you. love
you. Barry—oh, blast Peoria and
all Its sunlight!”
“Darling,” she said softly, Just to
say It under hls watching. Then,
more strongly: “Darling. I can’t
love you. I mustn’t. That’s true,
true—even If Pd—I’d give my
eyes not to have it. I'll tell you
why—truly; and you’ll see. But I
have to wait till I know how to
tell you. I promise, my dearest, I
shall know. But I mustn’t love you.
You mustn’t love me.” She looked
at him as If she had known him
very well and he were now sudden
ly going to leave her.
Then quickly her eyes left hls
and she turned around, drawing at
Doc’s leash. “We must go back,
Hal,” she said hurriedly. “Please,
we’ve got to.”
They were on the heat-shim
mered road again by three, a hun
dred miles from the Mississippi
crossing. There was a current of
gaiety which carried off even the
standard post-luncheon torpor, as If
the atmosphere of the car were
infected by the profligate, exult
ing buoyancy under Hal's own
heart.
For Hal could dismiss tne con
viction of grief in Barry’s eyes for
his Joy In the small marvels of
their passage in the street; the
quick touching of her shoulder to
his arm; the pressure of her liv
ing side against the back of his
caught hand; the near-husky en
chantment of her calling him dar
ling. What could she have behind
her blue eyes to stand against his
invincibility? Some fragile shadow
of an obstacle—the fact that he was
Frederick Ireland’s son, or the beck
oning of Hollywood; trifles which
he could shatter when he had his
time to speak, out of the strength
which she herself had unleashed to
surge up under the single neces
sity left in the world.
The time was coming—today, as
swiftly as the hard road under
Rasputin’s wheels. Excitement filled
him, pushed newly in each moment
to escape his chest; and there was
room for no more than a flash of
shame at the niggardliness of his
spirit that had quibbled with his
being most valiantly in love, for the
first—good G—d, yes, the first real
time in his life.
“Hey, my frand,” said Kerrigan,
bending gravely toward him, “where
did you go in Peoria?"
“Why, Colonel?" said Hal, grin
ning.
"You look as though you’d slipped
on a million dollars’ worth of eter
nal verities and found your initials
stamped on all of ’em."
“Little place around the corner
I found on my way from the
Klondike," said Hal. “Run by an
ex-aide-de-camp to the czar whose
life I saved at Port Arthur. Na
poleon brandy from original casks
at a nickel a goblet. I’ve no secrets
from you, Munchausen."
Kerrigan’s eyes danced merrily
under their half mustaches. “You're
sure the toque hasn’t taken charge?"
he said. “Wouldn’t like to stop off
for a cold shower somewhere down
the line?”
“Stop for nothing, sub,” said Ilal. '
“I want the Mississippi, what Ring
Lardner jokingly called the Father j
of Waters. It is out here some
where, isn't it?”
“Was last time I came through,”
said Kerrigan, the sparkle of his
look laughing with and at Hal’s.
Hal had a glimpse of Barry’s face;
her eyes, unpreoccupied, gave him
brief, intimate approval, and his
heart sang higher.
As each vista gave way to anoth
er level run over closely farmed
country, Hal grew Impatient for
that coming to the rim of a long
plateau which he conceived would
reveal the Mississippi, flat and blue
and broad, lying Infinitely off to
ward the veils of the horizon on
either hand. Then, after they had
settled down to what seemed an
other whole country of unwatered
farmland, Kerrigan took the dead |
cigarette end from his lips and
leaned forward. “The old fella,” he
said quietly: and he added, as If
he meant it to be all very casual,
“Here, let me treat you to your first
Mississippi crossing.” He reached
Into his trousers pocket, Jingling
change.
They went out on the narrow
track slowly, each slanted girder
flicking a gentle echo at them, and
neither Hal nor Kerrigan spoke.
Halfway across Mrs. Pulsipher’s
voice bustled suddenly Into the car:
“Why, this is the Mississippi river.”
“It—It Is,” said John, as If she’d
waked him out of guilty reverie.
“Is it, Mr. Kerrigan?"
“The original, mam.”
Hal said to Kerrigan, “Remember
Huck Finn and that nigger on the
raft; the loaves of bread with mer
cury in ’em floating down and a
cannon booming over the water
from the ferry boat, to raise their
bodies."
“Gad. sir, wasn't I just thinking
of that?” said Kerrigan—half star
tled, half pleased, as if It were a
Joint experience which he thought
Hal might have forgotten. “I never
cross the old rogue without think
ing of it. I swear—just that min
ute—I was nowhere else but there.”
"Then there’s more than one
mind-reader along,” said Hal drily,
a faint check upon his full pleas
ure.
"Meaning?" said Kerrigan.
Hal gave a brief shake of his
head, aware of Crack sitting behind
him, retrospectively aware that he
had been there all afternoon. Hal
hnd the curious Impulse to recall
what he’d thought and said In that
time, as you might try to remem
ber what you’d done In a room
where you find you’ve been watched.
Then he caught himself and shook
off the quick discomfort. Crack
might sit there as knowingly, as
pleased with private, drowsy
thoughts as he liked: lie had noth
ing to do with Hal or the Mississip
pi or this moment.
Then Kerrigan tossed up a thick
finger to Indicate the Burlington
shore where their bridge ran over
the railway. “That belongs,” he
said. Four white ex-Pullman cars
stood on a siding, a patiently suf
fered curvature to their wooden
spines, broad roofs smoothed down
over open-end-platforms, window
arches gay with marbled glass.
Along their white sides, gold letters
were painted: “Davenport Bros.
Great World’s Fair Shows.”
“Gosh,” Barry called from the
back, “wouldn’t It be fun to see
their show?"
“It would," said Kerrigan. “It’d
he fun to see it, and stow away In
those cars afterward.”
“It’d be fun," said Hal, “to do al
most anything." And In saying that,
there was a separate sharing of
this moment with both Barry and
Kerrigan, a thankful comfort that
could put away the uneasiness of a
minute ago—almost put It quite
away. The night was near now,
and his coming to Barry, to the rout
of fear from her bravery, and to his
hope of Fortune In the world.
Iowa rolled In tireless undula
tions, the road taped over them like
the flat-healed scar of a careful cut,
the coming loops visible from each
rise. They crossed the Skunk river,
and rolled on over the dips and
rises toward the sinking sun. Ot
tumwa was close beyond, and they
found clean tourist cabins in a
grove of trees beside the Des
Moines river.
The proprietor said that, given
time, his old lady would throw to
gether as good a feed, and better,
and cheaper, than any they could
get In them places uptown. Hal
took Rasputin to a garage and su
pervised his priming for tomorrow.
And when he got back, the others
were halfway through a meal that
had even such Intrepid appetites ns
the Pulslphers’ working uphill. The
full buoyancy that Hal had carried
through the afternoon still refused
to take account of hunger. He
did the swift best he could, so that
the proprietor's old lady shouldn’t
be hurt; hut when Barry pushed
her chair back from the long table
and squeaked her lips at Doc, he
abandoned the business abruptly
and followed her outdoors.
Fresh eagerness exulted In his
blood, tried to lift his body with a
hundred different excitements, urged
him to leap and shout out his joy
for these hints <>f immortality. He
stopped her walking with his hand,
turned her to him and held her
while he said, “Barry, we’ve got to
go somewhere—quickly."
In the light from her cabin under
the trees, he saw that her smile
was slow, the droop of her eyelids
slow, weary. “Hal, we can’t," she
said, as If he had been urging her
for a long time. “I couldn’t—
couldn’t tell you what I have to.
I’m too tired to be strong. I
shouldn’t tell you it’s hoping, wish
ing, praying about you that’s
made me so tired, but I want
to tell you. Because I—I— Hal,
we can’t go; I’ve got to go in.”
She moved a little, as If she were
going to let her head go against
his shoulder. But she stopped
herself, and her low, lovely voice
murmured, “My darling."
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Seek Fiery Death in
Famous Mihara Crater
Curling up In the smoke which
rises from the crater of Mihara,
Japan’s famous suicide volcano, the
ghostly images of three girls were
seen by terror-stricken villagers on
the island of Oshima. Remembering
that Mihara rose' to fame as a lov
ers’ death tryst following suicides of
three high school girls, the villagers
said the specter of the girls was an
111 omen.
Frightened, the superstitious snld
the volcano's “nushl" (master) was
about to “rise from the lund of fire”
to lure visitors to "jlgoku’’ (the
abode of the devil).
Three days later visitors from
Tokyo, Just across the bay, swarmed
to the island, partly out of curiosity
and partly because It was Sunday
and the Island’s natural beauty nnd
warmth attracted them.
At 10:30 a. m. about 100 spectators
were gathered on the spot from
which persons committing suicide
plunge to their death. Suddenly a
young man, scarcely twenty-five, ran
forward and flung himself headlong
Into the crater. As the spectators,
horrified and speechless, looked at
each other, another man, a few years
older, came out from the throng and,
without saying a word, walked as
though in a trance and dropped into
the fiery pit.
Nervously the spectators moved
away, afraid that some unseen hand
might pull them into the smoldering
Inferno. Suddenly another youth,
about twenty-three, ran to the edge
of the crater, stripped himself of
his kimono and, with nothing on ex
cept shorts, stepped over the brink
Into the world beyond.
Hardly had the talk of these sui
cides died down when, two days
later, three more men flung them
selves into the flre-emlttlng abyss,
one after another, as many specta
tors looked on.
The police have decided thnt here
after all visitors to the island will be
questioned before being permitted to
land. Those suspected of suicide in
tentions will be barred from landing.
All visitors must buy round-trip
fares.
Officials of the home office In
Tokyo are frankly pessimistic.
Last year more than 800 persons
lost their lives in Mlhara'i crater
despite every effort to put a stop to
the suicide craze. The crater Is seven
miles around and It is not humanly
possible to net-ln this vast territory
ns hnve been other sulclde-trystlng
places.
BOYS! GIRLS!
Read the Grape Nuts ad in another
column of this paper and learn how
to Join the Dizzy Dean Winners and
win valuable free prizes.—Adv.
Beautiful Formosa
Formosa, or Taiwan, as the Jap
anese call it. Is an island nearly half
the size of Ireland, situated where
the Pacific ocean merges into the
Chinn sen. It is one of the loveliest
Islands of the Far Last, and was
named Ilhn Formosn, or Beautiful
island, by early Portuguese explor
ers.
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My face was disfigured for the time
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