The Key West Citizen Newspaper, September 9, 1952, Page 6

THE KEY WEST CITIZEN Tuesday, September 9, 1952 BARNEY GGOGLE AND SNUFITY SMITH (MSO GLAD TO SEE YOU, LOWEEZY- BO COME IN AND VISIT AWHILE MISS TIGER !! THIS IS TH’ FUST HOUSE TRAILER T EVER LAID EYES ON-- (T'S PLUMB PURTY THAT UNCLE OF MAGGIE'S WILL DRIVE ME “ BAA -BAA” WITH THOSE WEIGHTS AN’ DUMBBELLS HE THROWS AROUND /! "LL BE WATCHING THE BEAUTY CONTEST ON T.V/ MAY THE PRETTIEST GIRL WIN » U=-TWO AWAY, YE UT /FN OZARK ‘AW FEEL A > YAWN A-COMIN' ON... = Si I CAN'T FIND MY ONE HUNDRED-AND. EVENTY- FIVE -POLIND OUMBBELL- LIGHT THE LAMP, HONEY--'LL_ MAKE US A SPOT OF TEA JUST A MINUTE = =!/LL FINO THE OUMBBELL / Ee, WINN Sa" THe Copr_ 1952, King Features Syndica B, Fred Lasswell | | WEARS TH' TOM-FOOL HERE YOU ARE MAGGIE'S BROT Fld ights reserved ~ AVE BEEN HEARIN’ BLUE YONDER?! YES, OSCAR WONDER ONDER THEY GO, ua SWEE PEAY \ WHAT THEY KIDS INA SEE? WE CANT RIDE. WHAT THEY 4 WHO KNOWS 22 THEY COL DISCOVER A SWELL NEW )— FOOTBALL SEE YOu AND MOVIE OF! NEED SOMEO REMOUNT! WHEN YOU WHAT DO WE DO NOW?) GET TIRED OF FALLING S OFF, YOULL LEARN TO STICK IN THE SADDLE, By Homer Chapter One “RUT you killed him!” André Dupré, as slim as a rapier in the long gray coat with e black silk stock at its throat, ed contemptuously. === “You killed him,” he repeated. | > “You stole Meisendorf’s map and got away. That's why you're here in Memphis now. That’s why you can’t go back to Westport and get the money yourself!” ‘Y, rough-featured man wu ie table growled angrily lissent, “I never said I killed him! I said he died in his bed. And how I got hold of the map ain’t no. body’s business but my own!” His voice was a truculent rum- ble, like that of a snarling wild beast that looks up, teeth bared, to defend its kill. “All I told you, Dupré, was that after Santa Anna clamped his kade on the Santa Fe trade there was rich \3 kin’s for them that could ie al® little contraband into Santa Fe or Chihuahua. Jake Meisendorf took a wagon train out of Westport the next SnHng, just about a year he started back | - ’ better than fifty 's in Mexican gold er. Dupré moved irritably chair as his gray-clad arm od the other’s words aside. ve heard it,” he said harsh- “You've told us how the Co- teamsters, and how he buried the gold and burned his wagons and finally got more dead than alive.” He leveled nacing finger at the man the table and his voice was| colic with scorn. “And then you say he was found dead in his bed two mornings later and the map he'd drawn was gone!” The chunky man in the oppo- site chair chuckled softly, amused by t! . recollection of his own ¥. nd that’s just what hap- pened, too, mister. The map was gone, and now I've got it. And there's fifty thousand dollars layin’ out there under that prairie, and I'm the only man on God’s green earth that knows where it As. TH woman spoke for the first me, and in the light of the| g candles her dark-eyed Creole beauty was like a magnet that held the two men’s eyes her. Not yet turned twenty- Sally Dupré was already a 2 gendary figure in the color- ful tapestry of the deep, sultry So e dré, my dear, perhaps we t Mr. Regan too been times when ave liked to be endurance.” to smile at the dered man across the You understand, Mr. into Westport | Stung by his insolence, Santa Fe trail that we must watch or fear or ac enemy if we go into this adven- ture?” She was a woman to charm the very heart out of a man. Lovely, with the dark Latin magic of the mingled blood of Morocco and Seville, of Lombardy and Aragon. A magic blended and made new Spanish that laughed and wept and sang and fought in the nar- row streets and proud houses of New Orleans, where the slow dark river from the north lost it- self in the sapphire crescent of the southern gulf. Regan crossed his leaned back in his cha “You'll find enemies,” he ad- mitted. “Everybody that ever heard of the Santa Fe trail knows the money’s out there—and they'd legs and pt as an |i in the Creole cross of French and | } AP Newsteotures he sprang, knife in hand. an accusation, a threat and an! hallenge. “You're afraid | , arent you, Mr. Regan?” | t was as sharp andi viole f had swung a | las! st big man’s back. | Before the last words passed Du- |pré’s lips, Regan was on his feet. | His hand flashed back in a ur of motion to grasp the dden knife that hung in a scab- between his shoulder blades, pended from a narrow leather | hong about his throat. Almost |with the same motion the hand ; swept down again, this time hold- ing a narrow, blood-hungry knife, murderous anc diamond-sharp, | |eager to sheath itself in the soft flesh of Dupré's throat. Regan’s eyes had shrunk inte | tiny Pa points of flame. | “All right, you,” he said slowly. |“I walked into your gambling all like to have it. You'll have to|house and made you a proposi- move mighty cautious and play | tion that would have put an easy your cards close to your belt or| twenty-five thoi dollars in they'll be on you like a pack of | your pocket. But you're too smart wolves. You can’t start with a|to take it the way it lays. You wagon train and then leave the rest of the train or they'd get suspicious right then. Mr. Dupré, here, can’t go alone, for he ain't never made the trip and wouldnt | First |know which way to start some man who knows the trail and who ain't above makin’ an honest dollar, and let him guide you out: there.” . “But you're not going to be |thing you got to do is get you| |have to have it your way! His foot sent the chair behind him spinning crazily across the room and he began to move round the circle of the table to- d Dupré “Get up!” he said harshly. “Get up and take care of yourself— you want me to kill you chair!” Dupré had not taken his eves from Regan’s flushed face, but e must have the .facts. | that man, Regan. Isn't that right?” |now he leaned back in his chair Is © anyone in Westport or in| There was more than an insult in| and laughed. Independence or anywhere on the | Dupré’s voice. It was a sneer and! (Te be continued) HAL BOYLE SAY By HAL BOYLE ! NEW YORK (#—Old Jones, the bric - a - brac dealer, had noticed the two young friends for years They had made a habit of paus. ing during their lunch hour stroll to look at the curios in his window When Jones first had noticed them they looked lik ing to make bot lately they had a p e day the stone statues dow — let's see them.” took a | strong dislike to him, and decided he liked the other, taller young man, who stood in silence, half- ling. Jones lifted the two ob- jects from the window, and held gut, one in each palm a face contorted in mad rage The second was of a girl incredibly fair and innocent | y are forgotten tribal idols,” d Jones. ‘The one with the grouch on is Hrad, the god of ven- geance. The legend is that if you pray to Hrad he will destroy any- one you want put out of the way The girl is Hloma, goddess of iove. Pray to her and you can win any wo heart — so those who wo! ped her believed.” The tall young man picked up Hloma. The thin young man picked up Hrad, and a speculative look came into his eyes | I like h he said. “He fas- Cinates meé. go more for aid his friend on't need her— really want to sell Hrad. I don't really believe in legends, but I am old enough to know that bad | thoughts always bring bad luck to someone. Hrad does no harm here where I can watch him.” “Nonsense,” said the young man An expression of utter evil came over his face as the old man re. luctantly bent to wrap his pur chase. Jones glanced up and saw it, and shook his head Summer passed, and then the winter, and Jones saw no more of the two young friends. Then on a spring day the thin young man came in again alone. Smiling, he untied a little parcel and put the small ugly god of hate on the counter “I don't need Hrad anymore,” he said. ‘I want to trade him back te you for Hloma.” “T’'sa glad of that,” said the old dealer. “Will Hloma melt the heart of 3 young widow? man cheerfully “They say she will,”’ Jones. I don't guarantee it.” As he wrapped the tiny goddess, he asked “By the way, where is your friend — the one you called John” I haven't seen him for months “You mean my former part ner?” said the thin young man and paused. ‘‘He I— he well, he died. Quite unexpected The old man looked at the young man, and the young man's ¢ shifted under his stare. Sile Jones unwrapped Hioma and put her back in the v “What are yo “But said Ol J Strike Voted By Bridges’ Men SAN FRAN OF Bridges men, in — Harr | meeting Federa asked the young ‘Czech Housewiv Must Work In . ‘ Factories, Farms By RICHARD O'REGAN VIENNA \—If they don’t want {to work in factorieg and farms, Czechoslovak housewives without children may be denied food and clothes by the Communist govern- ment. The country’s few rematning houseowners and small shopkeep- ers also have been denied food ra- tion cards and soap, A new directive says that food and clothes ration cards can be withdrawn “from those persons who refuse to do work they have been asked to do in the interest tof the Czech economy,” ezech newspapers report, The hardships caused by the “no work—no food” order on women found their way to the newspaper Lidove Democracie, A worker wrote My wife ts aged 50. She ts | now deprived of her ration book | because she could not go to the collective farm to help with the sugar beet crop. She could not be- cause she is sick, has high blood pressure and takes care of two other members of my family.” The Communist editor ignored the plea and commented bureay- “The local authority has t to refuse a ration book me who refuses to help on paper also disclosed that stry of Interior has ex- cluded from food and soap rations all houseowfers receiving more thas 1,440 crowns ($28) a month, ! businessmen employing e older than 18 years—even embers of bis own vers of bis family alse sed ration cards, if they “employed in the publie of the decree Is to foree of the middie ciass ss. Denied officia! re- low prices, they must gp h-priced biack market cir supplies. this way, they run the dangep of arrest and jail for black mage at the same time do ad their resig- at aim o@ everyone “up” to the | the | an a convertible saute allied a drophead, A