Evening Star Newspaper, September 27, 1936, Page 82

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Get a 35¢ box of Petersen’s Ointment at your druggist and ing stops promptly. arting ppears. Your skin will positively look better, feel bet- ter. And don't forget Peterson’s Ointment is wonderful to help heal itehing feet and cracks between toes. Try it. SAMPLE FREE Write Pehn‘t’m Ointment Co., Dept. HH-66, Baseball’s Biggest Battle THIS WEEK Continuved from poge two In none of the four games did we score less than five runs. We battled through the whole series to the tune of a verbal blasting of the Cubs which had its effect in giving us the upper hand. I haven’t a better friend in baseball than Frank Frisch, manager of the St. Louis Cardinals. We're both New York boys — now living 1m New Rochelle — products of New York schools and colleges. I watched Frank when he was playing football and baseball at Fordham, and when he went along up to the Giants with John McGraw, I told him that I'd keep pace by catching on with the Yankees. And I did so a few years later. We see a good deal of each other now, during the winter. But one day in 1928 our friend- ship might have been pretty well strained if both of us did not under- stand the code of the playing fields. The Yanks were playing the Cards in the world series. We had won the American League flag — but we were a pretty shaky ball club, physically, as we went into the series. Lazzeri had a bad arm, Herb Pennock had neuritis, Wilcy Moore's pitching arm was sore, Combs had broken a wrist and I had a mouthful of loose teeth as a result of a bang in the face. But sometimes it’s an advantage to be the underdog, forced to fight des- perately. We got off to a fast start, winning the first two games. The third game, along about the fourth inning, found the score close, with Ruth on second, myself on first and Bob Meusel at bat. Meusel hit a ground ball to Rabbit Maranville at short- stop, and it looked like a double play. Babe was off with the crack of the bat and I set sail for second. 1 reached the bag just as Frisch, covering second, took the toss from Maranville and was wheeling to make the throw to first. Naturally, I tied into Frisch with everything I had to upset his throw and prevent completion of the double play. As a result, his peg to Bottom- ley, on first, was bad and Meusel was safe. Bottomley recovered, however, to throw to Jimmy Wilson, the Cards’ catcher, in an attempt to head off Ruth, who had kept right on going. The ball and the Babe reached home at the same, precise instant. But the Babe had more power. The ball went one way, Jimmy Wilson’s chest pro- tector another, and Jimmy a third. The Babe’s run scored; we won the game and, eventually, the series. That was a play that could have made plenty of trouble. The sparks flew that day, but when Frisch and I met at home in New York during the winter, all was well. It’s a fascinating experience — the mwo and money, " jUN“““ EDGEWORT! 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And that's true whether you happen to be a rookie serving your first year in the major leagues or whether you’re a veteran star rounding out a great career. Anything can hap- pen. Circumstances can conspire to make a veteran, proven star look bad. Or Fate can set the stage to make a shooting star of a fighting youngster or a hitherto obscure player who has the fighting heart. There was the case of Joe Sewell, for instance. Fresh from the University of Alabama, he was called upon in the late weeks of the 1920 season to fill the gap in the Cleveland Indians’ infield left by the tragic death of Ray Chap- man. That was a tight series, with the winning club in five of the seven games scoring no more than three runs. In those pitchers’ battles, when a single rnum means the ball game, the short- stop is in a tough spot. Let him bobble adouble-play ball and it may mean the difference between victory and defeat. Joe Sewell, with only weeks of experience in the American League, was a big factor in Cleveland’s victory, and came out of that series a veteran, as well poised and confident as if he had been starring in the league for fifteen vears — as he was destined to do. Fighting heart did that. Take the case ot Pepper Martin, Pepper hit stardom in the single week of that Cardinals-Athletics series of 1931 when he hit safely twelve times in seven games; drove home four runs in a single game, batted .500 and other- wise made life miserable for the Ath- letics. His has been a great name in baseball ever since. Yes, the fellow with the fighting heart is a pretty handy chap to have around. And it's the fighting ball club that can get the mental edge early, and apply the pressure, that comes close to being the winning club. Maybe you think it’s just a job to be out there in action when the game that will clinch the series hangs on how the next ball is hit and handled. Sure it’s a job. But it's more than that. It’s a thrill, too, and if you don't believe it 1'd like to see you out there some afternoon when one of those ““three and two” situations is up! Teeth of the Dragon Continved from poge seven tired,” she said. “Perhaps it’s the hu- midity of the tropics, but I feel a let down all at once. Would you mind driving me back to the hotel?”’ ‘“Not at all,” Browning said, and promptly turned the car back to the main highway. The official who was waiting for Burke in his hotel was filled with that politeness which is so very evidently merely an external veneer. It is so unfortunate,” he said, *‘that your stay in Tahiti cannot be pro- longed, Monsieur Burke, but it would be advisable for you to become a pas- senger upon the steamer which leaves tomorrow at midnight for San Fran- Burke was indignant. ‘‘Do you mean to say that I’m being kicked off of your island?"’ The official waved his hands. ““There are complications, Monsieur, which even you will readily recognize. I merely mention that it will be advis- able for you to return on the next steamer to San Francisco.” Burke was grim. ‘“I'm not going. ‘Tomorrow 1 shall see my consul.” The official bowed. “It shall be as Monsieur wishes. But 1 am afraid Monsieur will be greatly inconven- ienced, and there are certain regula- tions which Monsieur will, doubtless, find quite distasteful. But if perhaps I can be of assistance, do not hesitate.” He raised his hat and was gone. The sun sank slowly in the west. The little amphitheatre became a cen- ter of bustling activity. Natives clad in loin cloths moved purposefully about, their muscles rippling under skins as lustrously smooth as the pet- als of a flower. More than a hundred spectators had been quietly congregating under the coconut palms, as the shadows lengthened and the glowing rocks in the pit became as red coals of fire. Some distance apart, seated by themselves, in the calm meditation of those who are about to perform some sacred ceremony, the little group of fire-walkers sat in solemn conclave. Burke looked about him. There were natives who had seen the spec- tacle perhaps many times before, yet who watched with rapt and reverent attention. There were tourists whose faces plainly showed their incredulity. One skeptical observer sat with his back propped against a palm tree, powerful binoculars glued to his eyes. He was watching the little group of fire-dancers and had been watching them ever since early in the afternoon. This man was grimly determined that no surreptitious anointment of the feet with some hardening, fireproof preparation would escape his notice. Another man approached the pit and thrust the tip of a long stick out against the glowing rocks. When the stick smouldered and burst into flame, he extinguished it by thrusting it into the dirt. The man retreated with heat- flushed countenance, hands which were all but blistered, a stick which was charred for more than half its length, Abruptly, someone started a chant, and the group of fire-walkers got to their feet. The chief, wearing a head- dress composed of long, glossy green leaves, came forward. A native ap- proached with an armful of the green leaves, some two feet in length. The chief of the fire-walkers brandished the green leaves about in the air, shaking them at the heavens, then started beat- ing at the rocks. Burke's startled eyes saw the leaves suddenly burst into flame. They burnt with crackling vigor, as though they had been dry tinder. For a moment the flames lighted the chief’s counte- nance, then he tossed the buming leaves out into the pit, where they were consumed to writhing, twisting wisps. Burke moved close to Lynn Down- ey and, trying to make his voice sound casual, said, ‘“Have you decided how long you’re staying on the island?” She avoided his eyes. “I'm leaving tonight at midnight.”’ He had expected this answer, and was able to say, almost casually, “I'm sailing tonight, myself.” She was about to make some com- ment when a young native girl brushed against her and pushed a folded slip of paper into her hands. Lynn Downey turned to eye the girl curiously. “Please read it,” the girl said and then, moving with smooth grace, be- came lost in the crowd of spectators. Burke felt satisfied that Lynn had not been expecting this paper. Making no attempt to conceal it from him, she unfolded it with the curiosity of one who more than half expects that a message has been delivered to the wrong party. ‘Thepaper wascovered with penciled, ““WHEN IT GETS DARK THEY KILL YOU TO GET PAPER.” It was unsigned. Lynn Downey was startled, Burke could see that. Her first reaction was to glance over her shoulder, trying to find the native girl who had thrust the message into her hand. Failing in this, she flashed Burke a suspicious glance. Burke met her eyes. ‘‘Yes,”” he said, ““I read it.”” ““Whatever does it mean?”” Burke said slowly, “‘I fancy that it refers to the bit of paper you’re carry- ing about with you, a sheet of paper torn from a loose-leaf notebook.” She started to say something, but was interrupted by a barrage of native talk which came from the lips of the chief of the fire-walkers. An interpreter translated. The spectators were in- vited to make any tests they wished, to determine that the rocks were actu- ally hot, while natives were making certain the rocks were firmly placed, so that the fire-walkers would not stum- ble and fall. Natives bearing long poles fought their way close to the fire, pushed and Magazine Section prodded the rocks, getting them firm- ly settled on the bed of glowing coals. Showers of flaming sparks shot upward. Burke saw Lynn Downey fumbling at the front of her dress. She stepped forward, turned to face the audience. ““I'll make a test,” she said. She held a folded piece of paper in her hands. With her eyes mockingly defiant, she unfolded the paper. Burke saw that it was a sheet of note paper covered e 1 e A | with writing which might have been Chinese or Japanese. Two men rushed into swift activity. Alton Clegg at one end of the line of spectators, Roscoe Browning at the other, came charging forward. Lynn crumpled the paper into a ball, turned, took two swift steps to- ward the fiery pit of red-hot rocks and flung the crumpled ball of paper. It struck an eddy of air, failed to reach the pit by some two inches, and lay, teetering back and forth in the drafts of air generated by the intense heat. Roscoe Browning staggered for- ward, all but blinded by the intense heat. He flung his left forearm up in front of his face, seeking to protect it, and groped for the paper with his right hand. Lynn Downey screamed, lurched toward him. A draught of wind, stronger than the others, rolled the (Continved on poge 12) CARBURETOR KAYWOODIE an enfirely NEW PRINCIPLE . . I . N pipe SmMmokKing UPDRAFT Fresh air goes in here THE new Carburetor Kaywoodie has the tollowing advantages @. Irs Perfece Mixewre (of Air and Smoke) improves the tlavor, taste, and aroma— because the tobacco burns better. ®. Its Perfect Mixtare (of Air and Smoke) keeps your bowl dry even with constant smoking. ¢ Irs Perfoct Mixture (of Air and Smoke) keeps your smoke cool, and will not burn your tongue no matter how fast you smoke. d. Its Perfect Mixtare (of Aar and Smoke) takes the rawness out of any tobacco. The Updraft of the new Carburetor Kay- woodie is the result of $ years of steady, intensive experimentation. Now it's here— perfected. 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