The Photo-Play Journal (Jul 1919-Feb 1921)

July, 19 19 PHOTO-PLAY JOURNAL 55 The Innocent Adventuress {Continued from Page 11) Then Lindy, imitating his crafty side glances, turned her head right and left and exclaimed with violent gestures: "And so am I !" The tramp smiled. Lindy's hand wa9 grasped firmly. "Put 'er there, my little partner," he said impressively, "let's be pals!" Lindy sobered a little from the strain of excitement and assumed the bond of friendship very seriously. As she departed, the tramp smiled, and put up a warning finger. "You and me are sure in bad, kiddo, but if you are ever in need of a friend, don't forget that with me it's pals first." Lindy continued her journey over the meadows and arrived at a shack in the woods. Finding no one inside, she walked in and made herself at home. The two small rooms which it contained were dirty and littered up with pans and scraps of paper. She spent fully fifteen minutes in making the place look as tidy as possible, and when the door opened and the tramp entered, she was surprised. The tramp walked over to her and said : "I hardly recognize my place, kiddo," he complimented, gazing at her tidy arrangement, "you're some little fixer." Lindy gave a pleasant little smile of gratitude. Looking out an open window, the tramp saw the posse evidently looking for trouble, and realizing that it would pay him better to move on and keep out of mischief, sat down to the table and wrote a quick note, which ran : "Goodby, kiddo. Don't yer worry. Nothing's happened — only good judgment tells me it ain't healthy in these here woods rite now. I'm your humble servant, kiddo — and if I gits back O. K., I'll be ready to stand by yer and lend a hand for anything you thinks you would like to ask me. Watch out for yourself, kiddo, Don't git run in ! Your pal, Bill . A thundering rap on the door startled the outcasts, and Bill without bidding further adieu leaped through the back window and made a hasty exit into the woods. The cabin door was opened and in came Dick, sheriff and a posse of thief-hunters. Dick determined to find out what the girl's motive was jn associating with such a character, and while questioning her, discovered a note lying on the floor addressed to Lindy Roberts. Hastily putting the letter in his pocket, he left and the posse continued the search through the woods. At the very first opportunity, Dick visited the person to whom the letter was addressed and who should he find there but his own girl Lindy ! He looked at her in surprise and then looked at the letter. Could this little innocent girl be the same as the one found in the cabin? Could that girl be such a type as the one whom he had dreamed this girl to be? But J yet, why does she stare at him so as if frightened to death. Why is it, when he mentioned to her that he had made an "odd discovery" that she looked as if she had seen a ghost. Why, when he said "letter," she looked as if the day of judgment had arrived? His reverie was broken by the convulsive sobs of Lindy. "You have found out," she lamented." Are you going to send me to prison?" Dick would have assured her that he was not, but the sudden appearance of her Aunt Heppy hanged the subject. He left with the conviction that Lindy was indeed in league with the tramp and mixed up in some crooked dealings. He mused silently, as he walked on. The impossible is indeed true ; she, who seemingly is an angel — in cold reality is in some way allied with a crook. Dick was disillusioned and in consequence became bitter. The cold sweat poured out on his heated forehead. "I wonder," he thought, "if I should go on and hold out against temptation and Brogan's offers, or go back to the old life and forget." Even Lindy whom he had dreamed to be the acme of perfection, had herself stooped to the "game." Dick thereupon decided to go back to the old game, and when he received a letter from Brogan, telling him to "shake his feet of the slow old town" and come back with him and get real gravy, he started for the Hidden Springs Hotel, where Brogan had a job in store for him. Simultaneously, Lindy, after hours of sad rumination decided to leave Pinkerdale. Everyone was on her trail for committing the crime, and she concluded that she would make a fresh start in life in some other town, and fate took her to Dick's objective point. Brogan was elated over Dick's return to the game, and when he told Brogan that Lindy was also mixed up in some crooked dealings, he was happy to think that she could be used as an accomplice. But Dick remonstrated. "The poor kid has got mixed up in some crooked dealings," he explained, "I'm going to find a place to hide her until the trouble blows over." "Lay off that stuff, Dick, don't try to play that soft stuff with me. We've got to much at stake to bother with a girl. Let's get busy on the job tonight." "See here, Brogan," Dick exclaimed, "if you are going to talk that way, I'm through for good, and I'll take this girl away and wipe my hands clean of everything." Brogan concluded that Dick meant to carry out his threat and he would have to resort to other tactics of persuasion. "Now, don't go up in the air about it," he said calmly, "I only spoke that way because we have got to get down to action right away if we mean to accomplish anything." Dick remained unmoved and his mouth was set in determination. "No, Brogan, I'm through once and for all, and I am going to leave here tonight with Lindy. If you want to make a haul tonight, go to it, but count me out." The appearance of Lindy brought the conversation to an abrupt close, and Dick took her arm and lead her to to the veranda, selecting two seats in an obscure corner. "Lindy, I have decided that it will be best for both of us to go away somewhere and rid ourselves of this complication of crime. With your help I know I will never return to the game, and we can start out in life with a determination to keep on the straight path. Will you pal with me?" As she agreed, he saw in her eyes a smile and a happy light of understanding. A Week-end With the Holubars {Continued from Page 33) of California. A dainty shawl, once worn by Ramona herself, appealed to Dorothy Phillips, who always is an admirer of dainty handwork. Luncheon time brought us to San Diego, where we established our headquarters at the Hotel Grant. "The first thing we must do is go to the roof garden and get a bird's-eye view of the bay," enthusiastically directed Miss Phillips, leading the way to the elevator. Once on the roof we could well understand her reason for hurrying us skyward, as it were. The view was magnificent — the deep blue waters of the bay glistening in the sun light, the fairy craft and power boats and hurrying across, the countless aeroplanes gracefully curving and pirouetting in the sky over toward the aviation field, sometimes hardly distinguishable from birds, and at our left the towering buildings of San Diego. "Oh, look!" suddenly exclaimed Miss Phillips. "You can see the beach at Coronado. I can almost see the people in bathing. Let's just brush up a bit and run down there for an afternoon swim." With Miss Phillips an idea means "action," so we promptly went to our rooms to "brush up," stopping but for a hasty luncheon before starting for Coronado. This is truly an ideal beach, the water was warm and pleasant. I had heard of Miss Phillips' prowess as a swimmer, but seeing her in her charming bathing costume, gracefully mounting the breakers, or diving underneath their foamy crests, unconsciously brougth to mind the fairy-tales of wondrous mermaid princesses and the song and lure of the Lorelei. Her big, stalwart husband had all he could do to keep up with the gay sea sprite, although he is considered an all-round athlete and an expert swimmer. Our afternoon sport left us with a ravenous appetite which could not be subdued until we should reach the Grant at San Diego. So we decided on forming an informal dinner party at the lovely hotel Del Coronado. Time had sped all too rapidly and brought us near the hour of starting homeward, yet in spite of constant "action," we were wonderfully refreshed and rested. It was, indeed, one of the most delightful week-end trips I ever enjoyed. Never were there more charming and hospitable host and hostess than Mr. and Mrs. Allen Holubar. 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