Evening Star Newspaper, November 18, 1935, Page 30

¢ — SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING INSTALLMENTS. Chuck Arnold. a great prospect in his freshman year at foot ball. refuses to turn out_for the varsity. Arnold dislikes Coach MeBrair's brutal. driving factics and tells him so. Particularly indignant over Ar- nold's Fefusal o furn out for the team is Mr. Marshall. a_rabid Colburn alumnus, whose daughter Nancy. Chuck with. Chuck does not ‘help his popularity mong the students when he defends Pen alstead, editor of the collexe paper. who had voiced his disgust of sentimental emo- tionalism over foot ball_Jed Blake. husky tackle. gives Chuck a Bronx cheer at the end of his speech and Chuck tells him he will see him later big same between Colburn and Sanford. is_in_love INSTALLMENT VL HE two teams struggled on through two quarters, with neither able to cross the other’s goal line. In the third period, however, Sanford opened up with & passing attack that took Colburn com- pletely by surprise. A series of double- reverse plays caused Colburn to pull its secondaries up to help stop the ball carriers. The moment the Sanford pilot saw Colburn’s back out of posi- tion he whisked a pass over their heads. Both stands were on their toes as the ball described a beautiful para- bola. Sanford's followers must have felt in their bones that that pass meant victory, for they were scream- ing at the top of their lungs as it traveled, and reaching a loud cres- cendo as the ball dropped into the hands of a fleet-footed Blue wingman, who scurried off to a touchdown. And Colburn’'s rooters knew that it meant defeat, for a pathetic moan went up from them when they saw that their backs had been sucked out of position by the astute little Blue pilot, and that no Crimson defenders were beyond the range of the pass, to stop the wingman once he caught it. Just as the Sanford end trotted Jauntily over the Colburn goal line, Chuck heard in his ears the same powerful voice he had heard before “What kind of coaching do you call that,” the man yelled so that every- body around must have heard him, “that allows a safety man to play up in that position on third down with 8 to go? The confounded fool!” Chuck looked around. He almost fost his breath. There, on the very last row of the stadium, silhouetted against the cloud-flecked Autumn gky was the huge figure of Nancy's father, old man Marshall, his gray hair blowing in the wind, his big face rubescent with emotion, his soft hat crumpled hopelessly in his left hand, end his right arm raised in a gesture of defiance. Chuck smiled, despite the turn of events that had put Colburn behind— badly behind on the scoreboard. There was something worth while about the old man, after all, he mused. He hates Dan McBrair as much as I do. Peculiar coincidence, he reflected, that he should dislike him when I do. He rather wished he had told old man Marshall why he hadn't gone out for the team. But no, it was just as well. Marshall was a power among the alumni of the college, and Chuck con- cluded that maybe Brair wouldn't be back next year after all, since the old man didn't waste any affection oh him. Marshall was important and affluent enough to mold things to his liking. Colburn battled hard throughout the last period, but Sanford, with a comfortable lead of 10 points, took things easier, saved its energy for the critical moments, and kept things under control. Colburn showed flashes of power, and a fair share of in- dividual talent, but its attack lacked the cohesiveness and purposefulness of a strategically coached and ably- directed team. The Crimson wasted | much of its strength on line drives. Play after play was directed at the most formidable section of the rival | forward wall, with little success. Sanford’s backs played smart, heads-up foot ball, keeping the sec- ondaries well spaced, and playing the | center out of the line until Colburn got within its 35-yard line. Then Arnold watches the | e and volatile than accurate in his recollections. Just another long- winded giant of the robust 90s, he said to himself. But now, with the | old man spotting the flaws in the | team, and bearing down on McBair, | Chuck viewed him in a new light. Colburn students were yelling their lungs out in a futile effort to induce | the team to stage a last-minute rally. | Cries of “We want a touchdown!" “We want a touchdown,” rent the air. It was no use. Ten points provided a safe margin for Sanford. It would take two touchdowns to win, and that was next to impossible. But Colburn kept fighting on with the same un- daunted spirit that characterized its | work earlier in the game. | The sun was sliding down behind | Colburn Hall, the main building of | the college, when the shrill blast of the official's whistle brought the | friendly hostilities to a halt. San- | ford students leaped out of their | seats and raced across the field. Some of them tried to catch up to the playgrs who were trotting off to the | showers, but the Blue athletes evaded | them. | Shouting, cheering and slapping | each other on the back with im- | partial abandon, Sanford’s happy throng snake-danced its way around the field. Suddenly they surged toward the south goal posts. A mighty | heave and the sturdy uprights began | to sway. Another and they tottered ‘Im(‘i‘rtamly, And another, and they came down slowly but inevitably into | the waiting arms of hundreds of stu- | dents clustered immediately beneath the cross-bar. It was a sad day for Colburn. and a sadder day for Dan McBair. | times in succession Sanford had taken Colburn over the hurdles. connected with Colburn had looked forward to a triumph over the old | rivals this time. Not only because | the Crimson forces found themselves |in the game with Eastern Tech, but | largely because tradition favored Col- burn. Never in the 35 years that | these teams had met on the field of | dust and glory had Sanford ever Three | Every one | THE EVENING STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C. THE TARZAN TWINS. by the same doubt. " Dick frowned. beaten Colburn more than twice in | succession. No fires burned on the campus that night. Every one felt partly responsible for the unexpected defeat. Sanford’s students and rooters cleared out of town as fast as they could, anxious to celebrate on their own front lawn, 60 miles away. | Walking back to his room, Chuck | met his roommate. They strolled past the gym, because Sam wanted to| | borrow a book from a friend who lived |in the dorm close by. Outside the gmy they passed McBair, who was ambling along, evidently on his way to his house. McBair looked up and | Chuck’s eyes met his. Neither spoke. ‘When they had gone on a ways Sam | said: “Who's your friend?” Chuck cut his medieval history class ‘Tuesday morning to keep his appoint- ment with Jed Blake. Sure of himself | though he usually was, he felt a dis- concerting emptiness about the region | of his stomach as he headed for the old | gym. He smiled at his own nervous- | ness and quickened his pace. The old gym, an odd-shaped red | brick structure, had not been used for | | a decade. Ever since the college had | been bequeathed a handsome, mod- | Fleeing from the awful roar, Dick and Doc made good use indeed of the athletic training which had hardened their muscles and expanded their lungs. But soon they slowed down, for each was troubled “I didn't think we'd come this “It's beginning leave us. You to look like we've missed the trail back to the railway,” Dick agreed, “but you said it would be great to spend a night in here.” would,” Doc insisted, “but I don't want the train to “It know that noise we heard sounded to me like a lion!” ernly equipped athletic building hy the will of a prominent alumnus, who wanted to remain anonymous, the old gym had been used as a storehouse. | Wild shrubs sprawled around its walls | and the windows, unwashed for years, gave the place a gloomy and decadent appearance. Chuck walked along the little path that ran around the north side of the building and led to the top of the cul- | vert. Brambles brushed against his knickers and pulled at his heavy golf | socks. He never noticed them. He| was looking around to see if he could spy Blake. He climbed and slid down the side | of a stony hillock to the clearing be- low. Considering its proximity to the college proper it was a pretty isolated spot. The bushes and trees, together with the big woodpile on the south side of the gym and the building 1t- self, gave the scene an air of seclu- sion. Chuck looked around and was about to sit down on an empty oil bar- | rel lying close by when he heard some one say in a familiar Southwestern | drawl: “Howdy, Brother Arnold. reckon this is what you and I are to consider as being behind the Luxem= bourg.” Chuck around. swung ‘There, THIS is the Famous | Lacée_sm And happy is the man who does the Locke-step. He walks with a tread that is carefree and sure... a tread that results ONLY from the correct shoes correctly fitted! We don’t claim that M. W. Locke Shoes will perform wonders for your feet .. . but they certainly will prevent every day foot ailments that lead eventually to serious I disturbances. |8 fit do the smart thing and do the Locke-step. the dynamic and rotund Sanford pivot E man would jump back in line again | and stop everything that came his | way. | Colburn's rooters grew less enthusi- astic as the end of the game ap- proached. They realized that San- ford was not only the physical equal of Colburn, but the strategic su- perior, Every man played his po- #ition to perfection. The guards came out with terrific speed to lead the interference on the off-tackle plays. The backs blocked well, cutting down the Crimson tacklers with precision. Chuck spent most of the last period looking back over his shoulder at old man: Marshall. in the backfield with his high-power field glasses. The loquacious old gent never noticed Arnold looking back at him. At a foot ball game, particu- larly a Colburn-Sanford game, Tad Marshall, men of his class and generation, was oblivious to everything except the two teams and the score board. Once in a great while in the past, | when Arnold was calling on Nancy, he heard the old man reminiscing with old friends about his days on the gridiron. Chuck simply smiled skeptically at such times, thinking that Marshall was more loquacious DON'T NEGLECT A COLD UB soothing, warming Musterole well into your chest and throat. Musterole is NOT just a salve. It's 8 “counter-irritant” containing good old-fashioned cold remedies— oil of mustard, menthol, camphor @and other valuable ingredients. ‘That’s why it gets such fine results ~better than the old-fashioned mus- tard plaster. It penetrates, stimu- {ates, warms and soothes, drawing out focal congestion and pain. Used by millions for 25 years. Recommended by many doctorsand nurses. All drug- gmu. In three strengths: lar trength, Children’s (mild), and Ex- tra Strong. Tested and approved b: GoodHousekeepingBureau, No.4867. } He took pleasure in | watching him fuss and fume at the | mistakes he spotted in the line and | as he was known to the| rubber heels. M. W. Locke SHOES for MEN Not only are you fitted by one of our M W. Locke experts but he confirms his judgment with the infallible fluoroscope. Choose from black or tan calfskin; black or brown kidskin. (Men's Shoe Shop, Main Floor.) THE HECHT F STREET AT SEVENTH If your feet are the least bit sensitive or hard-to- I Attached 0.50 CO. NATIONAL 3180 sprawled out comfortably at full length | on the slope of ground was Jed Blake, | his shirt opened at the neck and his | elongated face all aglow with a smile. | “Hello,” said Chuck, after a mo- | ment’s hesitation. “Didn’t know you | were here.” | “I always get where I'm going early ‘cause I believe in that old adage my grandpop used to quote me—the early bird catches the worm.” | Chuck was annoyed at Blake's suave implacability. He didn't know what to say or do, so he just stood still and looked at him. The tall South- westerner never batted an eyelash. | Nonchalantly he reached out and| snatched off a tall weed, stuck it in nis MONDAY, NO VEMBER 18, 1935. —By EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS ¥ 2. UNITED “Why didn't you wait and see?” his cousin chided. “You said this morning on the train you'd like to see a real lion.” “I didn't see you waiting,” Doc shot back; “I never saw any one run so fast in my “I had to,” the other boy replied, “to keep heart—the scent of not ravenous, for he prey for the coming WILL SEEK $500,000 teeth and bit it in two. It was some time before he spoke. “Well, Arnold,” he said, “since we're | here for a purpose, I suppose we all ' gum Will Be Raised for Structure might as well transact the business of | our meeting with dispatch and witi- | out ado. Do you agree?” | i “Why not?” Arnold came back xm-‘ ‘TUSKEGEE, Ala., November 18 (%), petuously, more excited than bellicose. —A goal of $500,000 was fixed yester- “You still can apologize, if you wish, | day by members of Alabama commit- for that insult you handed me at the | tees as the amount to be sought for a Halstead meeting.” “Let's not talk about that now. I'm | new agricultural building at Tuskegee not apologizing to any one. Especially | Institute as a goodwill gesture by the fo one whe thinks so little of Colburn | “White South.” that he wouldn't even try to make the| The sum of $100,000 was decided team.” | upon as Alabama’'s quota of this “0. K., Blake. That suits me. Let's| amount, with general solicitations to get to it.” (To be continued.) | begin December 1. at Tuskegee Institute. Not far away, at a slow trot, Numa, the lion, fol- lowed the scent that ever aroused hatred in his man, his enemy! Numa was had feasted well the night be- fore, but he thought it wise to mark down a fresh night! COLDS GO THRU . 3 STAGES! | The firat is the Dry Stage, the first 24 hours. The second, the Watery Sacretion Btage, from 1 to 3 days. The third, the The time to stop ge. Take Grove's Laxative Bromo Quinine. It does mot merely suppress the cold, but treats it as it should be treated—as an internal ia- fection. At all druggists. 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