THE LOST WORLD]
By SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
* i _/
(Conttoned From Mturd»j.>
Suddenly a thought came to me and
brought some little comfort to my
heart. I was not absolutely alone In
the world. Down at the bottom of
the cliff and within call of me, was
waiting the faithful Zambo. I went to
tho edge of the plateau and looked
over. Sure enough, he was squatting
among his blankets beside his tire in
hit, little camp. But, to my amaze
ment, a second man w-as seated in
front of him. For an Instant my
heart leaped for Joy, as I thought
that one of my comrades had made
his way safely down. But a second
glance dispelled the hope. The rising
sun shone red upon the man's skin.
He was an Indian. I shouted loudly
and waved my handkerchief. Pres
ently Zambo looked up, waved bis
band, and turned to ascend the pin
nacle. In a short time he was stand
ing close to me and listening with
deep distress to the story which I
told him.
"Devil got them for sure. Massa
Malone," said he. “You got Into the
devil'* country, sah, and he take you
al! to lmself. You take advice, Massa
Malone, and come-down quick, else he
get you as well."
"How can I come down, Zambo?"
“You get creepers from trees, Mas
sa Malone. Throw them over here.
I make fast to this stump, and so
you have bridge."
“We have thought of that. There
are no creepers here which could
bear us."
"Send for ropes, Massa Malone."
"Who can I send, and where?"
"Send to Indian village, sah. rlenty
Hderope In Indian village. Indian
down below-; send him."
"Who Is he?"
"One of our Indians. Other ones
heat htm and take away his pay. He
conic back to us. Ready now- to take
letter, bring rope—anything."
To take a letter! Why not? Per
haps he mf-ht bring help; but In any
case he would insure that our lives
were not spent for nothing, and that
news of all that we had won for
science should reach our friends at
home. I had two completed letters
already waiting. I would spend the
day In writing a third, which would
bring my experiences absolutely up
t-j date. The Indian could bear this
back to the w-orld. I ordered Zambo,
therefore, to come again In the evc
r Ing and I spent my miserable and
lonely dav In recording my own al
ventures of the night before. I also
New York
—Day by Day—
V__—-—-J
By O. O. M’INTYRE.
Paris, March R.—I have seen Paris
, for the first time during a winter
season. It is as entrancing, rippling
and gay as it was last summer. The
kiosks bloom wth flowers and neatly
folded Journals sold by brisk little
women. The chauffeurs are as ca
pricious In defying all traffic laws as
ever.
The ornamental gendarmes pre
serve their same air of detachment.
They stand about the streets with
their neatly folded capes thrown over
their shoulders as though disln
tercsted spectators. They are lithe of
figure and gentle of manner.
Paris has long since shed the
chrysalis of bereavement 'and each
season finds It brightening up. The
large floating population of the sum
mer months is not here. The crowds
are typically Parisian. It was noon
when I left the Rltz for a stroll.
Shops were closing for the two
hour siesta. The sicfewalks of the Rue
dp la Paix were gay with mtdinettes
like so many chattering magpies.
The only touch of the war is seen
hero and there with ghastly disfig
urements.
I think the most Impressive thing
about Paris and one of the chief
reasons for my love for It is the
childlike simplicity. Perhaps this lit
tle trivial Incident will explain what
I mean. T dropped into one of those
circular little bars for a cup of hot
chocolate.
A cocotle came In. I’nder her arm
she carried a clock encased In glass.
She was taking it to pawn. The
barman looked It over and turned a
key. A spring snapped. Wild ges
tures and gesticulations. Business in
the place stopped.
Everybody gathered around the
clock. They peeped In from the
streets. It was the most curiously
interested crowd I ever saw. After
about 30 minutes (he clock began to
tick again. Then they laughed, slap
ped shoulders and moved away.
Strangely smough I w-as Just as in
terested as the rest. Paris has a way
of doing that.
Then again I dropped Into a hook
shop. Madam was at her little
cashier's desk with her Siamese cat.
All small shopkeepers have a pet
of some sort—a dog. bird or cat. I
showed Interest In the pft and she
Immediately lost Interest In a sale.
That could wait for another day.
The sidewalk cafes do a brisk
winter business. Men and women sit
for hours In their heavy coats sip
ping steaming hot drinks. It gives
them the opportunity to Indulge
th»lr curiosity to study passers-by.
V.’e of America would rather resent
the close scrutiny of the Parisians
who mean no discourtesy. They will
walk up to you and look you over
from head to foot as Impersonally
as they would study a pslntlng. Then
they move on.
This naivete of the French express
es Itself In many ways. Customs
cling. If you go to buy stamps In a
hojel or postofflce you must wait
for ths ceremony of taking the
. stamps out of a leather back folder
^ and the stamps are only handed to
- .you after the folder Is closed and put
$lway. Stamps were first sold In this
way and will be so'long as France
survives.
Tb* t>ne thing the American miss
es Here In th® ,and W'here cooking
Is an nrt is good coffee. They serve
a chicory concoction that In Innoc
uous and tasteless. Eouls Sherry has
built up a big business serving the
kind of coffee we get back home.
T tendered a few sous to the heed
porter for a trifling service. Rasll
Woon, an American correspondent,
who was with me smiled. Then he
told me that this concierge w-as one
of the chief stockholders In the hotel
end Is enormously rich yet dally he
dons his gold braided coat end pre
sides over the head porter's desk
Th» concierge Is the chief point of
contact with the patrons. One rarely
sees the clerks.
drew up a note, to be given to any
white merchant or captain ot a steam
boat whom the Indian could find, im
ploring them to see that ropes were
sent to us, since our lives must de
pend upon it. These documents I
threw to Zambo in the evening, and
also my purse, which contained three
English sovereigns. These were to
be given to the Indian, and he was
promised twice as much if he returncu
with the ropes.
Just as the sun was setting upon
that melancholy night I saw the lont
ly figure of the Indian upon the vnst
plain beneath me. and I watched him.
.‘Ur one faint hope of salvation, until
he disappeared in the rising mists of
even ng which lay, rose-tinted from
the setting sun, between the far-off
river and me.
It was quite dark when I at last
turned back to our stricken camp,
anti my last vision as I went sas the
red gleam of Zambo's fire, the one
point of light in the wide world be
low, as was his faithful presence In
mv own shadowed soul. ^And yet I‘
felt happier than I had done since
this crushing blow had fallen upon
me, for It was good to think that the
world should know what we had done,
so that at the worst our names should
not perish with our bodies, but should
go down to posterity associated with
the result of our labors.
It was an awesome thing to sleep
in that ill-fatsd camp; and yet it was
even more unnerving to do so m the
.'ungle. One or the other it must be.
Prudence, on the one hand, warned
me that I should remain on guard,
but exhausted nature, on the other
declared that I should do nothing of
the kind. I climbed up on to a limb
of the great gingko tree, but there
was no secure perch on its rounded
surface, and I should certainly have
fallen off and broken my neck the
moment I began to doze. I got down,
therefore, and pondered over what
I should do. Finally, I closed the door
of the zareba, lit three separate fires
in a triangle, and having eaten R
hearty supper dropped off into a pro
found sleep, from which I had a
strange and most welcome awaken
ing. in the early morning, just as
day was breaking, a hand was laid
upon my arm, and starting up, with
all my nerves in a tingle and my
hand feeling for a rifie. I gave a cry
of Joy as In the cold gray light I saw
Lord John Roxton kneeling beside
me.
It was he—and yet it was not he.
I had left him calm In his bearing,
correct in his person, prim In his
dress. Now he was pale and wild
eyed, gasping as he breathed like one
who has run far and fast. His gaunt
face was scratched and bloody, his
clothes were hanging In rags, and
his hat was gone. I stared in amaze
ment, but he gave me no chance for
questions. He was grabbing at our
stores all the time hp spoke
"Quick, young fellah! Quick!" he
cried. “Every moment counts. Get
the rifles, both of them. 1 have the
other two. Now, all the cartridges
you can gather. Fill your porkets.
Now, some food. Half a dozen tins
will do. That’s all right! Don't wait
to talk or think. Oet a move on, or
we are done!”
Still half-awake, and unable to
Imagine what It all might mean, T
found myself hurrying madly after
him through the wood, a rifle under
aaeh arm and a pile of various stores
Ift my hands. He dodged in and out
through the thickest of the scrub
until he came to a dense clump of
brushwood. Into this he rushed, re
gardless of thorns, and threw him
self Into the heart of It, pulling me
down by his side
"There!" he panted. I think we
are safe here. They'll made for the
camp as sure as fate. It will be
their first Idea. But this should puz
zle 'em."
"What Is It all?" I asked, when I
had got my breath. "Where are the
professors? And who Is it that is
after us?"
"The apemen.” he cried. "My
God, what brutes! Don't raise your
voice, for they have long ears—sharp
eyes, too, but no power of scent, so
far as I could judge, so I don't think
they can sniff us out. Where have
you been, young fellah? You were
well out of It."
lii a few sentences I whispered
what I hail done.
"Pretty l>ad," said he, when he hail
heard of the dinosaur and the pit. "It
isn't quite the place for a rest cure.
What? But I had no Idea what Its
possibilities were until those devils
got hold of us. The man-eatln'
Papuans had me once, hut they are
Chesterfields compared to this crowd.'"
"How did It happen?" I asked
"It was In the early morning'. Our
learned friends wars just atlrrin'.
Hadn't even begun to argue yet. Bud
denly It rained, apes. They came down
as thick as apples out of a tree. They
had been assemblin’ In the dark, I
suppose, until that great tree over
our heads was he.iqe with them. I
shot one of them through the belly,
but before we knew where- we were
they hart us spread-eagled on our
backs. I call them apes, but they
carried sticks and stones in their
hands and jabbered back to each oth
er, and ended up by tyin’ our hands
with creepers, so they are ahead of
any beast that I have seen in my
Wanderin's. Apemen—that s what
they are—Missin' Links, and I wish
they had stayed missin'. They car
ried off their wounded comrade—he
was Weedin' like a pig—and then
they sat around us, and if ever I
saw frozen murder it was in their
faces. They were big fellows, as big
as a man and a deal stronger. Curi
ous glassy gray eyes they have, un
der red tufts, and they just sat and
gloated and gloated. Challenger is no
chicken, but even he was cowed H»
managed to struggle to his feet, and
yelled out fit them to have done with
it and get it oxer. I think he had
gone a bit off his head at the sudden
ness of it. for he raged and cursed
at them like a lunatic. If they had
been a row of his favorite Pressmen
he could not haxe slanged them
worse.”
"Well, xxhat did they do?” 1 was
enthralled hy the strange story which
my companion was whispering Into
my ear. while all the tme his keen
eyes were shooting In every direction
and his hand grasping hls cocked
rifle.
'I thought it was the end of ns.
out instead of that it starterf them
on a new line. They all jabbered and
chattered together. Then one of
them stood out beside Challenger,
foull smile, young fellah, but pon
my word they might have been kins
men. I couldn't have believed It if
l hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.
This old apenia/i—he was their rhief
—was a sort of red Challenger, with
every one of otir friend's beauty
| points, only just a trifle more so. H*
| fiad the short body, the big shmil
ders. the round chest, no neck, a
55rr.1t ruddy frill of a heard, the tuft*
ed eyebrow*, the ‘What do you want,
damn you! loop about the eves, and
the whole catalogue. When the ape
man stood by Challenger and put hi*
paw on his shoulder, the thing was
romplete. Summer lee wa§ a bit h.V* ^
terlcal. and he laughed till he cried.
(To He Continued Tomorrow.)_
THE NEBBS LEAVE IT TO MAX. Directed for The Omaha Bee by Sol He..
/hello,/youDelwerice^ni L/Ou thats vjhw^ cheww you upTV
__ O'OM'T HEAR FROM ) Hrft:r _£AT NOUR >14 W 10 A VCNlOVLlW THAT WAS »T, I'D A V
g you or see you \ dough-huts an' talk \S bee hi Sorb ! i wao to giue hw coosikj T
ybURMUSHTAVJKOWERl A DOLLAR io ST AT W^TH TW VOOS WWW
/ TO FERGUSOH S * VOU n 1 WEHT TOTH' QOWUHG CLUB — AWDTW /
.COULOMT GET AWAV AttJr NO O'FTEREnT U R vcios ALL ASKW' FOR TOU _ MlC*E.T /
THAH ALLTH' REST OF M CRT'A*' FOR M*9 AOMT EtHMA AMO X )
cH*. viliSaTMOWE MVgauE you _CRCOFT FOR BWS'C*V
/VOO'RE fc TTNE. ONE VOU CkRE ! Vm\ /RE'S R'SHT - IT'S ML MV PCkUcTTS
*th' onevhcct should be mnO '. vm \ / j get mm> too quick &.nd tw \
SELUNG VCE too Ck LIVIN' (LNO 1 CPkKT) OEMOUSV t GET PROM MV MINT
BC STUCK UP- WHEN VWOT G\RL \ _ SHE WAS SO JEALOUS OP MY
OT EE RED ME OOUGU-NOTS I HAODA \ ; uslCLC JOHN SHE'D CUT ALL™*
EAT1 EM THEN LIE ^SOUT EM — STORES OP WOMEN OUT A TH‘ 7
IHW'S HOWL MOLD MV CUSTOMERS ./ NEvv,SPPkptas 3EP0CE HE ,4
COULO ^
GOT \T AS PAR OVER HER AS A f
Ifg^IvoK. eyreggtn^y
j
IP
Sfc
CJftkCek«L?oK4 i
(Copyright. t??3, hy The Bell Syndic**.
RDINiniNin I TP PAHTUPP R«*i*t«««i see jiggs and maggie in full Drawn for The Omaha Bee by McManus
DI\H’iVill N VJ rV/I r rt 1 IaHiIX u. S. Patent Offle* PAGE OF COLORS IN THE SUNDAY BEE (Copyright 19251
........... - _*___ . — , , r --..----I ■
JERRY ON THE JOB it makes a difference. Drawn for Tbe Bee *>y Hoban
♦ Copyright l«i9)
j^JuSr \i %*en
SpsiviS was Camc
U9 JlJIW A WUM\<
OP WEAVES. ~ft#TS
as Colo A? A
^ BAasEftff Ualo?. j
%
TILLIE, THE TOILER By Westover
[TILL IE “TOLD ME TO COME IN HERE "THAT FELLOW l f I'LL BET HE
AMD EAT TODAY ‘SO I COULD SEE -SITTING OVER \ I KEEPS YOU
HER. MEW SHEIK - I DON'T "THINK. THERE NnITH THE 1 LAUGHING ALL
iHE’g SUCH A VaJOVJ FOR LOOKS BANGS WORKS IN | DAy AND HE
AMD HE'S AN AWFUL MV OFFICE MR DON'T HAVE To
Bum AS A TALKER - H£ \ REID r ' ^>AV A»i-——
.HASN'T SAID A WORD To V-• i
7V-\ HER IN
v (/TEN
( jhES'L^M I NOTES
A V»Y I ALL he
L.) 1 DOES IS
EAT
|
| ©TIT' H Kinf r..l„r.» Svmlirwtr Inf ‘F
DID YOU err A \ H S/S-V-J HIM VJELL, VJHV SHOULt>"
OOCD LOOkjj v BUT I DtDM’T , HE TAL-Vi^,
HEAC HIM - H£ V -'a£i J AU\-"daV A>NOoMCimG
nle ^D' *T\TJ|A£DLy ^otcE “) > i at station y V "Z.
,SK1'T V >n° you - v WCCttK
ME fO/J HAVE A QUY^
MAMDSOMJ 'CAWT
V,;
*
ABIE THE AGENT Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hershfield
I.OOKI\(i \IIK.\I*.
1
*
f
I
