HEPPNER GAZETTE TIMES, HEPPNER, OREGON, THURSDAY, MAY 23, 1929.
PAGE THREE
Sixth Installment
WHAT HAPPENED BO FAB
The Sheridan Dramatic Club, of which
Tom Bibeck, the narrator, Maryella, the
Birl he carea for, and Jim Cooper, his
rival, are members, are to give Pygma
lion and Galatea at the Old Sodlers'
Home. Mr. Hemmlngway, husband of
one of the actresses, thinks Bilbeck Is
In love with his wife. The escape of
prisoners from the local penitentiary
keeps Bilbeck busy at his newspaper
work, so that he gets away from the
uramauc group, iiut Maryella sum
mons mm, and starts telling the storv
of "Dollyanna" who believes that every
thing that happens turns out to be for
me oesi.
The players arrive at the Old Sol.
dlers' Home, being greeted royally and
meeting Pink Henwether and others.
The play at the Old Soldiers' Home Is
Interrupted because of a fire, the play-
cm ami veterans escaping.
NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY
"Then it's all for the best," piped
Jim Cooper cheerfully.
It Is easier to be optimistic when
you are warm.
"Maybe we had better start
home," I suggested, thinking appre
hensively of those thirty long miles
to town. "With the snow falling
fast it may get too deep for trac
tion pretty soon."
"You're right," ' conceded Jim.
"Let's hurry. We can take off our
muke-up after we get home."
By great good luck we had left
our outer wraps in the main build
ing. Therefore we were able to
bundle up warmly enough. I had a
long, heavy fur-lined driving-coat
that covered me from head to heels.
The Lillielove bus got away first,
although Mrs. Lillielove herself
elected to return with us. I had no
non-freezing solution In my radia
tor so I had let the water out as
soon as we arrived, and now had to
fill it up before I could start
Grandmother responded nobly to
the first turn of the crank. I men
tolly thanked her for not misbehav
ing on an occasion which seemed al
most too good for a balky motor to
miss.
The old soldiers crowded to the
doors to see us off. Without the
opposition of the band Grandmother
Page did herself proud. We started
off amid a riot of sounds Bimllar to
those made by a terrier hunting for
a rat In a pile of rusty stove-pipes.
From that I could tcltthat the en
gine was working perfectly.
I uon t quite understand how the
drivers of these up-to-date, silent
cars can locate trouble. Everything
is so thoroughly mulllled that as far
as I am concerned it Is Impossible
to tell how many cylinders are
filing. With Grandmother Page
there Is no room for doubt.
If she fox-trots I know that only
three charges are being exploded;
if she does a buck and wing it is
alternately two and three; but If the
racket is practically constant I can
rest easy in the knowledge that she
is doing her very best on all four.
Above the noise of the motor
could be heard only the farewell of
Comrade Pilk Henwether. He prob
ably had not heard the sham battle
going on benenth Grandmother's
hood.
"Good-bye," he yelled with his ex
cellent lungs and highly trained vo
cal organs. "Don't feel bad about
the fire, because it was a lot better
than the show!"
That man Just radiated tact It's
too bad he could not have been in
on the diplomatic courtesies that
preceded the Eurpenn War. The
trouble could have been so easily
averted by having the representa
tives of the powers draw lota to
see which would kill him!
It was a beautiful night even if
the snow was falling so thickly that
it was impossible to see thirty feet
ahead of the car. There is no peace
like that of a snow storm, no pur
ity like that of the earth In a fresh
white blanket. It seemed a shame
to put tracks in the clean glistening
expanse.
Maryella, snugly wrapped In
warm robes, sat beside me; the car
was running smoothly, and there
was a long drive ahead of us. What
more could I ask? It was all for
the best.
In the midst of such pleasant ru
minations I noted hastily a dark ob
ject in the road. I turned quickly
to avoid it and my lights illuminated
another object directly in our path
I put on the brakes and stopped
just In time to escape running down
a man who stood Immovable.
CHAPTER VII.
More Trouble
What was the matter with him?
The answer flashed upon me when
I noticed that in either hand he
held a revolver. It was a hold-up
I gasped with surprise. So did
Grandmother Page. I had forgotten
to feed her gasoline enough, and the
motor stopped.
"Get out," directed the man with
the guns briefly.
Needless to say we did, and lined
up In the customary attitude before
him and his fellow highwayman
with our hands elevated above our
heads.
Instead of going through us as
we expected, one of the men climbed
into the front seat and adjusted the
spark preparatory to starting.
Then I knew who they were and
why they had stopped us. They
were escaped convicts from the pen
itentiary, and they wanted the car
to get away In!
It was a good scheme. They
would leave tracks hard to distin
guish, and could out-distance local
pursuit.
"Cuss!" exclaimed the highway
man who was in the car.
"What's the trouble, Bill?" the
other one queried without, how
ever taking his eye or the muzzle
of his gun away from us.
'There ain't any electric starter
on this car."
Jim Cooper laughed.
"You'll have to get a new car,
Tom. When even highwaymen crit
icize it you have to admit It's get
ting out of date."
"Shut up," commanded our guard.
I mentally applauded him.
Can t you start her anvwav.
Bill?"
'Sure, I can start her all right,"
Bill stated confidently.
It is grand to approach a motor
in that frame of mind, especially in
cold weather. If there is anything
in this theory of the superiority of
mind over matter It is certainly cor
rect to hold a hopeful thought when
about to crank a car.
Bill grumbled a little though at
having to turn the engine over by
hand. He went out in front of the
car and grasped the handle firmly.
"When I get her going, Julius,"
Bill said before cranking, "you make
a quick Jump for the car and we'll
be off before anybody can start
anything."
"All right," assented Julius.
All arrangements for the getaway
completed, Bill cranked the car. He
cranked it several times, in fact,
without any definite results. Grand
mother Page was behaving like a
brick like a load of bricks, one
might almost say. She. would re
spond to none but the hand of her
master, and to the ministrations Of
another she only gurgled.
"What's the matter, Bill? Can't
you start her?" questioned Jim
Cooper sympathetically. "Proba
bly it is all for the best, Bill. This
will teach you to be patient and
will likewise develop the muscles.
If you would devote the same
amount of energy to the pursuit of
an upright and noble life you would
doubtless become President of the
United States some day. Think,
Bill, of how this life of crime has
aged your poor old mother. Think
of your mother, Bill!"
Bill exploded at last.
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"If that guy lets out another
chirp, Julius, plug him!"
Jim subsided, but from time to
time thereafter he writhed with
eagerness to offer suggestions and
comments. He just naturally can
not keep from lending a helping
hand in everyone else s business.
He means well, too. I do not
doubt but that Jim Cooper is one of
the best hearted men in the world
but by the time he has helped half
a dozen times in something you
want to do by yourself you get to
dread his appearance on the scene.
Bill's temper had not been im
proved any by Jim's earnest advice.
He twisted the crank savagely and
then delivered a violent kick on the
radiator.
"Who owns this piece of junk
anyway?" he demanded, at last ap
proaching our group. "Is it yours?"
He pointed at Jim.
"It is not," Jim disclaimed hasti
ly. "You couldn't give it to me on a
bet."
I made a mental resolve to square
up with him sometime for his
scornful comment No man likes to
have the things that he owns ridi
culed. Grandmother might not have
all the modern attachments, but I
love every bolt In her body.
"Then you must be the guy," Bill
saia, indicating me. "You come
here and start your car."
Now, I had no particular desire
to have Grandmother Page kid
napped. It seemed simple enough
to make a perfunctory effort and
tell them it would not go. So I
monkeyed with the levers aimlessly
and cranked a couple of times. I
did not prime the cylinders with
gasoline and stuff a glove in the air
intake, as I knew I would have to
do to get her to respond.
She wont start," I .announced.
Bill swore.
Jim Cooper smothered a strident
laugh.
"What are you laughing at-" Bill
demanded harshly.
"Because," Jim returned, "Tom
says he can start that car in any
kind of weather when no one else
can".
How cheerfully I could have
throttled Jim for that asinine rep
etition of my footless boast!
So you've been stalling, have
you?"
Bill turned upon me savagely.
"Now you start her; understand?
No monkey business! If she's run
ning in two minutes we may not
blow your brains out."
Something in his tone convinced
me that Bill was in earnest. I lift
ed the hood, primed the cylinders,
stuffed my glove in the intake and
turned her over.
Grandmother responded feebly:
"Phut!"
"The batteries are a little weak,"
I commented. "They don't give a
very good spark when it's cold."
I adjusted the spark-coil to op
erate on less current and tried
cranking. There was no explosion
whatever.
I was beginning to get a little
worried. Bill, who stood over me
with a gun, seemed a thrifie impa
tient. I could see that he did not be
lieve that I was making an honest
effort to start.
"Try it on the magneto," sug
gested Jim Cooper.
"She never starts on the magne
to," I replied.
"Try it anyway," Bill commented
briefly. "And hustle."
So I did. As you may know, start
ing a motor on the magneto in
volves spinning the flywheel rapid
ly for several times before enough
electricity is generated to make a
spark. It is one of the most heart
breaking exercises I know of, es
pecially when the motor has ex
cellent compression such as Grand
mother Page boasted.
The perspiration dripped from my
brow and my arm seemed like
leaden weight that was about to
drop off.
I paused for breath.
"Now you quit your kidding,"
snarled the highwayman, shoving
the muzzle of the revolver under my
nose. "Take off that coat and make
her go. Take it off, I say!"
I obeyed. Neither of us was pre
pared for what followed. I had for
gotten the white tights, which were
all I wore beneath my overcoat, and
he of course was not expecting me
to look as pale as I did.
His jaw fell and his arm dropped
ump at niB siae.
"W-w-hat are you?" he asked.
It was probably the only oppor
tunity that I would have, and I
made the most of It As the muzzle
of the gun dropped I Jumped for
him and pinned his arms to his
sides.
We rolled over and over In the
snow, the revolver exploding as we
fell.
Sometimes weight is an advan-
tage. This was a case in point. In
two minutes I was sitting on his
chest and had taken his weapons
away from him.
Finger on trigger, ready to fire,
I looked around for the other ban
dit. "Where is he?" I asked.
"Gone," replied Maryella. "He
ran away when he saw you were
winning."
"It's all for the best," Jim assert
ed. "You couldn't fight him and
sit on this other gentleman at the
same time anyway."
I rose from my seat. "Get up!"
I ordered my prisoner.
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