Evening Star Newspaper, September 30, 1935, Page 28

LONG By Betty ILLIAM “VCRAIGR- e¢lined in the com- fortable chair and drummed his fin- [gers nervously upon the richly gained panel of the pol- ished deck before him. An unspectacu- farly rapid rise from obscurity in the counting house to the presidency of an important Maryland banking nstitution within the space of 20 years was perhaps a tribute to the in- grained sagacity of his Scottish ances- try and the estab- lished rule he had of playing his hunches. Buf even the greatest of us must at some time or other make an error in judgement. The proof of Craig’s fallibility lay on the desk before him » . . & ticker tape. Craig calculated mentally. A drop of some thirty-odd points had in one fell swoop entirely erased his personal fortune. And along with it had van- ished some few hundred thousand of the firms capital as well, which he had ill-advisedly borrowed to bolster his gamble. * % ¥ ¥ RESSING the buzzer under the edge of the desk, he summoned his secretary. Almost immediately the door opened, admitting his secre- tary. and was quietly closed. “Miss Randall, will you please call Mr. Hodges?” “Yes, Mr. Craig. Here are the aft- ermoon papers.” Miss Randall dis- creetly withdrew and Craig turned to the sporting sections of the dailies. Blazoned across the pages were ac- counts of the past performances and predictions as to the winner of the Kentucky Derby, which was to be run that afternoon, and Craig appraisingly ran his eye down the columns of the forecasters. The most likely choice was a beautifully built bay, to judge by the pictures, named Speed On. The odds were placed at 2 to 1. He rapidly scanned the records of the entrants until he came to a com- paratively unknown starter. The name jumped out of the pages at him—Willie's Choice. What a hunch! ‘ * % X X PULLING a phone toward him, Craig dialed a number and impa- tlently waited until a harsh came over the wire, “Hello, Joe" “Hello, Joe. This is William Craig!” ¢+ “Oh! How do, Mr. Craig.” Joe's Yoice assumed an unfamiliar tone of affability. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Craig?" “Yes. I want you 4o tell me the Pprobable winner of the race this aft- ernoon, Joe.” There was a moment's surprised hesitation at the other end of the wire before Joe answered. “Well, you see, Mr. Craig, there ain't much choice in that there race. Speed On has it in the bag as far as 1 can see. I'd put all I had on the nose if I was you.” “By the way, Joe, what do you think of Willie's Choice?” “Well . . . he's a good nag and a fast starter and a good closer, Mr. Craig, but he'd be a wildcat bet! He ain’t had enough races yet to tell anything for certain. If he came up to his last two races, though, he'd stand & chance of maybe running a close second to Speed On.” “All right, Joe, thanks. TI'll call You back.” Craig replaced the re- ceiver as the door opened to admit Hodges, the head cashier. She stopped si voice “Soldier” Imperialist. The soldier in Russia is the “Red Army Man,” the word soldier being imperialist and bourgeois. A new way that Nu Back can DAILY SHORT STORY: SHOT Eckersall. “8it down, John,” Craig invited, “I want you to draw me “a draft- for $10,000 against the corporate account.” Hodges' pale blue trifle. away! Cash it and send it to this ad- dress by messenger, immediately!” He jotted a name and address on a piece of paper and pushed it across the desk to Hodges, who bowed slightly, took it and moved toward the door. .. TH!: office was silent except for the sound of the telephone clicking as Craig again dialed a number. “Hello Joe,” he said when the connection was completed, “I am sending over 10 thousand by | messenger. 1 want you to put it all on Willie's Choice . . . to win!” He clamped the receiver down, shutting out the sound of Joe’s protest. * k¥ % Getting up, he snapped the switch on the discreetly hidden radio in the bookshelf and twirled the dial until he heard a voice announcing: “This is one of the biggest crowds ever to attend a Derby meeting here at this famous track . . ." * % % X BURST of pandemonium and they were off! Craig grimly noted the important parts of the radio descrip- tion. “At the quarter the field is pretty evenly distributed, Speed On in the lead, Golden Hour second, Phan- tom Play, third, and the hangers-on | bunched right behind them . . . at the half the positions are much the same, Speed On in the lead by half a length, Phantom Play dropping out of third place in favor of Beggar Boy.” Craig sat up in his chair, a defeated look in his eyes. In a moment the voice of the announcer emerged from the din of a tremendous shout that had gone up. “Folks, there is a piece of turf history being made here this afternoon . . . in the stretch, a long shot, Willie’s Choice, is cutting over ahead of Beggar Boy, he overtakes Golden Hour and is battling with Speed On for the rail position . . . down the stretch they go, neck and neck . .., they hit the tape close to the rail. Speed On is the winner, ladies and gentlemen, Willie’s Choice, second; Golden Hour, third. What a race . .." hort in horror, * % * X A LOOK of unaccustomed terror had come over Craig's face and his fright had twisted his mouth wryly. He passed a trembling hand over his eyes and sank weakly back in the chair. The trailing hand which hung down over the arm raised itself and fumbled in a drawer of the desk as the din of the crowd's jubilation poured into the room. The crashing dissonance of the shot brought Miss Randall to the door and halfway into the room, where she stopped short in horror, the round, wide-eyed face of Hodges peering over her shoulder. Craig was relaxed in the chair, his head bowed, his arms limp. At his | right the subduedly strident tones of the radio were still emanating from the speaker. “. .. and this is the official result: Speed On is disquali- fied for crowding at the turn into the stretch . . . Willie's Choice, paying 25 to 1, the official winner . . . putting Golden Hour in second place and Beggar Boy, third!” (Copyright. 1935.) 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She could hardly suppress & cry when she saw the brigands raise their muskets confidently and level them at the flee- ing ape-man. Lady Beth. Just as Nazr, the leader, uttered the command to fire, a volley of arrows-rained suddenly upon them from the dense forest. The guns flashed. The shiftas howled in pain and surprise and confusion. For a moment the billowing smoke hid Tarzan's fate from lead. But when the smoke cleared she saw that he was safe. His strategy had been successful. He had de- coyed the brigands into the clearing, Where they were simple targets for the Canaanite warriors, whose timely arrows had saved him from a hail of —By EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS Five of the shiftas fell dead or mortally wounded. But now the desperate Nazir rallied the others for & flerce dash into the forest whence came deadly missiles. “After them!” he shouted. “We shall not be conquered by crude savages. Reload! 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