before Van Dyke stopped it. Half a dozen guys was required to hold Burns, which raved, cussed, and begged to have the bout go on. He bellered that he wasn't hurt, that he was just gettin' warmed up, and that he always looked bad in the first couple of rounds on account of not bein' a boxer, but a slugger-all of which was true. But Van Dyke waved him away, threatenin' to bar him from the lot if he didn't get off the scene. However, when I caught the little director's eye, he looked to me to be tickled silly.

Kid Roberts was very sore when he heard about this muss and bawled out Knockout Burns to a fare-thee-well, promisin' to can him if he started anything with anybody else whilst we was there. Then the Kid apologized to Hamilton for Knockout's runnin' amuck, and Hamilton, no longer the laughin', goodnatured kid, smiled faintly, murmured somethin' about bein' able to take care of himself, and walked away. Kid Roberts raised his eyebrows, but says nothin'.

As the time drawed near for the filmin' of the large fight scene, the indications was that a excitin' time would be had by all. The Kid's nerves had been about shot to pieces by the constant abuse of little Van Dyke regardin' his actin' and the deliberate, silent contempt with which Nada Nice treated him when they wasn't workin' together. Young Hamilton had got so upstage you couldn't talk to him at all, and it was plain and also amusin' to everybody on the lot that he had went cuckoo over Nada, which seemed to take that fact for granted-bein' the type of Jane which cannot understand why every guy she meets don't go out and commit suicide at the thoughts of havin' to live without her.

Knockout Burns kept after Hamilton every time they got within speakin' distance on the lot and the Kid wasn't around. He rode that boy from mornin' till night, darin' him to slip out somewheres and go to the post with him again, callin' him quitter and a big false alarm which he would murder if he ever got him in a ring for a finish fight. Lookin' back, I often wonder how Hamilton stood it, but stand it he did, contentin' himself with merely smilin' sarcastically at the blah-blahin' Knockout and never a word of a comeback. Frequently the Knockout's remarks got so raw that I shut him up myself, but beyond a tightenin' of jaw and a glintin' of eye once or twice, Hamilton never give him a tumble.

TH

HE day they're goin' to shoot the night between the Kid and Hamilton, which winds up the picture, I'm stumblin' around through the scenes on one of the stages wishin' it was all over, when I hear the voices of Hamilton and Nada Nice. I am not no keyhole listener, but they was talkin' about Kid Roberts, and without no apologies I will tell you that I stopped for a earful.

"It would be too crooked!" Hamilton's sayin'. "I don't want to even think about it, Nada. The way to do that would be to challenge Roberts openly and meet him in a fair fight, where he'd know I was doing my best to win. This way it's Oh, it's all wrong! He'll be unprepared, unsuspecting-no, I don't want to do anything like that. If it wasn't for the fact that I've got to play my part in this thing to-day, pretend he has knocked me out, I'd-well, Nada, I'd whip him a thing that I'm as sure I can do as I am that my name is Hamilton!"

"And be heavyweight champion of the world with all the fame and fortune that goes with it!" breathes this vamp, and I can imagine the eye work she's doin' on friend Hamilton. "Well, do as you like," she goes on, in a voice that was like a kiss. "I don't want you to think I would suggest anything-er -wrong. But if I were a man and had this opportunity-'

Her voice trails off suddenly and I hear a new one-Van Dyke's.

"Hello, folks!" he greets 'em. "Nada -over on that drawin' room set for yours. I want a close-up of you and Kid Roberts before he starts for the ring.

Hurry up, I'll he right over-got somethin' to tell Hamilton."

I hear Nada trippin' away and then Van Dyke again.

"Hamilton," he says, almost in a whisper, "look out for yourself in this fight with Kid Roberts. I got this straight from headquarters and it's no josh. This big stiff is sore at the way you trimmed his sparrin' partner, and, well-you know how Nada's acted-and he's gonna try and deliberately cut you to pieces to give the gang a laugh! Watch your step and-"

Hamilton cuts in.

"All right-thanks!" he says. "I'll watch out and you watch me! This is better than I hoped for and I'm going to give this fellow the surprise of his life!"

On top of Hamilton's retreatin' footsteps come Van Dyke's short laugh, and then I stepped from behind the scenery, right

"The Kid ain't takin' no chance at all!" he sneers, readin' my thoughts. "Why, he should dispose of this guy with ease he's champion of the world, ain't he?"

"Yes, but-" I begins, but get no chance.

"And another thing you wanna remember, fellah," goes on Van Dyke, "is that this ain't only my movie, it's yours and his also! Of course, if you think your champ will get mussed up and you wanna crab this thing, go to it. If you tell Kid Roberts, it's all off, because the big-because he'll refuse to knock Hamilton dead. This Roberts is a hot sketch for a fighter, anyways!" "But look here, Stupid," I says. "If I don't wise the Kid up, how d'ye expect him to put up a sure enough

lines. into him.

He changed colors like a lizard and greatly reminded me of one, for that matter.

"What's the big idea?" I snarls. "Come on, make it snappy and don't stall-I heard the whole layout! Are you tryin' to frame Kid Roberts, you little rat? You know the Kid's got no idea of knockin' Hamilton's head off. Why, he'd no more hurt that guy than he'd-"

"That's what's the matter!" butts in Van Dyke excitedly. "That's exactly the trouble!

But if Hamilton

comes at him doin' his best, why, the Kid will have to knock his head off, won't he?"

"He might have to stop him—yes," I admits.

"But-"

"But nothin'!" says Van Dyke. “You got some brains, ain't you? You know what depends on this fight scene bein' a riot-why, it's the kick to the whole picture! If it flops, good-by money, my reputation, yes, and a good part of your champ's rep, too. Fight fans out in the sticks which never seen Roberts start, and never will, are gonna see him in this movie, and if he looks bad, you know what they'll say. Another thing, what happens to your percentage of the picture's earnin's if the thing's a bust? And a bust it will be if the Kid and Young Hamilton don't put up a rip-roarin', two-fisted, he-man battle! You seen them rehearse time after time and you also seen how terrible they both was in the scene--each scared to death he'd muss the other one's hair. D'ye think I'd release a bust like that with my name on it? Not on your life! I'm gonna shoot a fight to-day that will put a permanent marcel in their hair! What d'ye suppose Nada's been cuttin' Roberts and eggin' Hamilton on for? What d'ye suppose I told him the Kid was out to take him for, heh? What d'ye "

"D'ye

"Wait a minute!" I says. mean to tell me that Nada Nice has upstaged the Kid and lured this poor boob Hamilton on at your orders?"

"Nada knows the situation," he stalls. "Why shouldn't she do what she can to help me? I made that girl! I'm her director, ain't I?"

"Well," I says, after a bit, "you certainly win the tissue-paper nail file! In order to make your movie a success, you take a chance on Kid Roberts gettin' his head-” and then I stopped.

battle?"

"Hamilton will take care of

that part of it," grins Van Dyke. "When this baby steps into that ring, Kid Roberts will have to fight!"

What was I gonna do? If I

A hour or so later Kid Roberts and Young Hamilton is climbin' through the ropes in a regulation ring at the old West Coast A. C. whilst a battery of movie cameras is grindin' out their every move and every move of a crowd which packed the joint to the roof. On a high stool beside the ring, and out of range of the cameras, Van Dyke is perched, directin' through a megaphone. Near by sits Nada Nice, chattin' with friends, ready to appear in the Kid's corner for the climax. She looked like she hadn't a care in the world-and prob'ly hadn't. All around the edge of the ring is the newspaper guys, tickled silly to come and get a real line on the champion's present condition; back of them the supers in dress suits and evenin' gowns, and behind them a bunch of society guys and their girl friends, invited with engraved cards by Van Dyke, and there out of curiousity to see a movie made. The supers is tryin' to act like society leaders, and the society leaders is tryin' to act like supers. Kid Roberts is grinnin' and chattin' with the newspaper guys, answerin' a fire of questions about his next fight and the like, but across the ring Hamilton is drawn and nervous, his eyes on the floor.

"Lights!" bellers Van Dyke, and a distinct hush fell over the mob. "Ready, camera-all right, Roberts, Hamiltonshoot!"

Clang! the bell, just like the real thing, and they're off.

the story that Kid Roberts had refused to box Young Hamilton, the ex-amateur champ, etc., would travel from California to Florida overnight. I shut up and walked back with Van to the others, through with the movies jack or no jack!

We breezed over

to where the Kid, Nada, Hamilton, and the rest of the gang is waitin', and after some close-ups of Nada in the Kid's arms have been shot, Van Dyke gives Roberts and Hamilton their final directions for the battle. With a wink at Hamilton which the Kid don't see, Van Dyke remarks that he hopes the champion won't lose his temper and knock Hamilton for a goal. Kid Roberts innocently grins and turns to the scowlin' ex-amateur champ.

"Don't mind him, old man," he says, "I'll be as careful as-"

Hamilton cuts him off with a snarl. "Oh, never mind that stuff," he says sneerin❜ly. "You do your best, Roberts-for I certainly shall!"

This was too much for Knockout Burns.

"Why, you big goof!" he yells, "Kid Roberts'll bust you in half! You're gonna try, eh? Well, if you want action I got a thousand bucks which says I can knock you stiff inside ten rounds. C'mon, less go, you four-flusher!"

"Shut up, Burns!" says the Kid, his quiet gaze never leavin' Hamilton's flushed face. "I'm very sorry you feel that way, Hamilton. Perhaps we had better postpone this scene until you're in better humor. It's rather dangerous for two big men to-❞

N

over.

gin sparrin', as they'd rehearsed over and Hamilton suddenly chopped his right to the head and then hooked the same glove to the jaw as the Kid started to back away. The champ boxed cautiously for a few seconds, landin' lightly with both hands, and Hamilton drove him against the ropes with a torrid left to the body. Lookin' surprised, Roberts clinched, and the wise newspaper guys begin to sit up straight in their seats. I can't remember when my throat was ever so dry before! They slid along the ropes, Hamilton fightin' with one arm free, diggin' his glove into the kidneys and short ribs. The referee, a assistant director, broke them on orders from Van Dyke, and the Kid put a slow left to the head, apologizin' when the heel of the glove scraped skin from Hamilton's ear. The ex-amateur champ's reply was a volley of lefts and rights that gave the Kid all he could do for a minute, and then Van Dyke shouts through the megaphone:

"Now, Roberts, you drop your hands and stagger away-you been doped, and here's where you get knocked downthat's good-that's fine! Hamilton, get ready to swing your right-don't watch the camera-you think you're on the verge of knockin' the champion outthat's right, try and look it! Now, Hamilton-cop him-on the chest will do; it'll look like a punch from hereready now-all right, drop your hands, Roberts, drop your

Kid Roberts obediently lowers his guard, and, quick as a flash, Hamilton pastes him-not on the chest, but square on the point of the jaw, and the Kid goes down like a log!

"Cut!" hollers Van Dyke. "That's great-wonderful! I'll give these birds a movie!"

Mutterin' apologies, Hamilton bends down and helps the Kid to his feet, whilst twelve assistants of Van Dyke grabs me and shoves me back out of the ring, which I had reached in one frenzied jump, hollerin' that nobody's allowed on the set whilst Van Dyke's shootin'. The crowd gives Hamilton a big hand as he walks to his stool, and Van Nada waves her hand to him. Dyke is grinnin' happily. Whilst Knockout Burns and the other handlers is workin' over Kid Roberts, I lashed out with both hands, clearin' a space and managed to crawl through the ropes to

the Kid's side.

(Continued on page 26)

loans to member banks and total investments of all Federal Reserve banks increased almost a billion dollars, or nearly 50 per cent. Since November 5, 1920, the loans and note issues of the Federal Reserve banks have been reduced in amounts which might be regarded as normal in ordinary circumstances. The reserves of the twelve banks combined are now 48 per cent as compared with 45 per cent a year ago.

Our present banking system has been put to the severest tests during the past four years and has met them all. It has shown its ability to extend credits in ever-increasing volume in order to meet the requirements of a great producing country in time of war, and during the past year has shown its ability to absorb the shock and prevent a money panic such as heretofore has always occurred after periods of undue or extraordinary expansion. The readjustments which have taken place in this country, painful as they may have been, have been attended with less privation, with less unemployment, and have been less severe than in other countries where the expansion of bank credit and currency had been proportionately greater. We have now recovered a normal state of mind in business, a better

sense of proportion, and the saner, sounder judgments of old. The country now appreciates the fact that in order to prosper it must produce, that in order to continue production it must sell, and in order to sell it must buy.

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3. The country has the best mechanical and financial equipment it has ever had, and this equipment is the best in the world.

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The man who has marked down his inventories to present prices, and who needs money to go forward-the man who can dispassionately call himself a good risk-should have no hesitancy in approaching his banker with a frank statement of his condition and asking for accommod.cion.

The Black Heart of Murray Broome

Continued from page 16

either in town or in the country, they'd never got together. She was out of it, some way, ill or something, for all the doings around Commencement, and other times something had kept them from ever being in the same place at the same time. But this time he wired me that he was coming to spend a week, and I called up my Aunt Mary and got a bid to bring him along, because I was just starting for Long Island to stay with them.

I hadn't kept close track of Kiko since we'd graduated, of course. But reports were that he'd managed not to fall in love. There'd been talk once or twice; Lord, there always is, if a chap looks twice at a girl. And women were always going crazy over him, and throwing themselves at his head. I suppose he'd had what people call experiences. But certainly Carol must have been different. They both told me, later, that he'd proposed to her the night after I took him down.

LLOWING for the difference between

ALLO

a man and a woman, Carol matched up pretty well with Kiko when it came to being wild and disposed to jump fences. She was all right; the fact that she's my cousin isn't what makes me say that. She was. But there wasn't anything she wouldn't say, and there was precious little she wouldn't do. People either hated her or were ready to die for her; communities used to divide into pro- and anti-Carol camps. She didn't begin to take Kiko seriously just at first; she may have had some idea of amusing herself with him. But she soon saw she couldn't do that. He made her take him seriously; he wasn't the sort to let you have any doubts, once his mind was made up. She liked him well enough from the start; there was that. But I don't think it was Carol's idea to marry anyone for quite a while; she wasn't very old, and she was having a tremendously good time. But when Broome really settled down to making love to her the thing was so intense that I think it frightened her a little. She had to talk to some one, and I was handy; she and I had always been good pals, and there wasn't any question at all of my falling in love with her; wouldn't have been, even if we hadn't been first cousins. I was more amused than anything else at first; I took an unholy delight in seeing Kiko worried, too. whenever I had to be serious about the But,

thing, I couldn't see anything against it-except that I had an idea that if people like Kiko and Carol got married without having a lot of trouble, of one sort or another first, they'd have it afterward. They were both that sort. They would have made a pretty good couple if you could have been sure they'd give and take a little. But neither of them had had much practice in that game.

He moved Carol; she admitted that to me before long.

"Bill," she said, "I'm crazy about him! But he scares me to death! How can you marry a man like that? He isn't human, Bill! I'd be afraid to have a headache or an attack of nerves. If I got hysterical and pitched my sewing across the room, he'd look at me as if I were some wild animal that had strayed into the house by mistake. You know how I scream when I see a mouse --I'm not really afraid, but I can't help screaming. And you know how he'd take that! He'd laugh at me, and I'd want to kill him. I can't marry a man who doesn't know what nerves mean!"

I could see her point, all right, and once I tried to make him see what Carol had been driving at. But it was no use.

"Mice?" he said, looking like a puzzled baby that had got into a man-size body by mistake. "She can scream at mice as much as she likes! What do I care? Why should I care?"

"That's just it, old man," I said. "She'd want you to care. She'd want you to get out your gat and shoot the mouse, and comfort her, and make a fuss over her. She'd want you to understand. It wouldn't do any good if you just let her yell, or were tolerant, and treated her like a baby. You'd have to see that it was perfectly right and natural for her to scream at a mouse."

"But it wouldn't be!" he said, and shook his head, and went off and tried to persuade her to marry him because he loved her.

Father and mother rushed him into the living room where a log fire blazed. They threw his sopping clothes any old waytossed his shirt on the library table-his dripping overcoat and underclothes across the mahogany chair.

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my Uncle George's camp-he's Carol's father. My aunt asked Kiko, I suppose, because she didn't know how to help herself.

He hung about, you know, like a big, lost dog. He was around all the time. And Carol wanted him around; that was what complicated things so for the family. She wouldn't marry him and she wouldn't turn him loose. Her mother raised the deuce about it, but Carol just looked bland. "I can't help it," she said. "He would go away if I sent him."

Now, that was just true enough to silence my Aunt Mary. Silence her relatively, I mean. If you knew my Aunt Mary, you'd understand that nothing could really silence her.

"It isn't respectable, William!" she complained to me once. "I went into some room suddenly the other day, and Carol was being as thoroughly kissed as any girl I ever saw. But when I asked her if she was engaged she was furious. I don't understand young people nowadays!"

The camp was on one of those lakes it might be pleasant enough to go to in an airplane. Actually, though, you go by trains and boats and buckboards and plain walking. Let's call it Lake Moquette. I'm sure my Uncle George wouldn't like me to use any real names.

Carol wanted to go as far as Albany on the boat; she said she wanted to see the river by moonlight. She had her way, of course; she always does. My aunt and uncle, Carol and Kiko and I, made up the party. And there were a couple of maids, I think.

We had a table to ourselves at dinner on the boat, with two negro waiters to look after us. I like negro waiters, don't you? When they're good, I mean, of course; the kind you usually get on boats and trains. They're so friendly; they make you feel they want you to enjoy your dinner. They don't make serving you a sort of empty form, the way some white waiters do nowadays.

next to was on

other side of him; then came my uncle and aunt. I'd missed lunch, for some reason, so I was hungry, and I was too busy catching up, at first, to notice that there was anything out of the way. Then I began to feel something in the air, and I looked about. You know how you grow conscious, gradually, even when no one says anything, that there's some disturbing element in the crowd? Pretty soon I saw that Kiko was upset about something, and I began following his eyes. And then I saw that he was looking every few seconds at one of the waiters, and that the chap never took his eyes off him.

That waiter must have been well over six feet tall, and I'll bet he didn't weigh a pound less than two hundred and twenty-and none of it fat. His hands were enormous-like a gorilla's. They looked as if they could tear a bar of iron in two. He was as black as coal, and he had thick, red lips and shiny white teeth. He'd evidently been a real scrapper; there was a great, livid scar on one cheek, that only a razor could have made, and he had a lot of other One lip was all puffy scars as well. and out of shape, and one ear had had misfortunes too.

If he was busy watching Broome, I was just as busy trying to dope out that monstrous big waiter. I had nothing else to do. It was rather uncanny, but, after all, I couldn't see why Broome The chap was prob

was so nervous.

ably just a crank. Presently there was some sort of a shift between the waiters, and the big buck came around to our side. Carol

And what we both remembered was that day at the amusement park, years before, in the rain, when Kiko the Wild Man had turned on him and promised to cut his black heart out.

I'm

"'D hate to sit through many more meals like that one. I never saw anything like the way those people atenot Broome, but Carol and the other two. They never ate dessert, but that night they fussed with ice cream and cake and fruit. But we got away from the table at last. Carol went to her room for a wrap, and Broome grabbed my arm and ran me out on deck. "Bill-did you see that nigger?" he asked.

"Yes!" I said. "What's the matter with you, Kiko?"

"Don't call me that!" He jabbered at me like a hysterical woman. "That was Kiko! Remember? He said he'd find me and cut my heart out-"

Well, I'd half planned to try to laugh the thing off, and try to kid Broome out of his notion about the waiter. But it was no use. There wasn't a laugh in me. I was scared stiff. And I don't know that I'd ever liked old Broome as well as I did that minute, because he was scared too, and he was man enough to admit it.

"We might speak to the captain," I suggested.

"Rot! What can we tell him? We haven't a thing on that nigger."

We stood and stared at one another. There's wasn't any time to lose. Carol would be along any minute, and we couldn't tell her. Broome kept digging his fingers into my arm. But his mind was working like lightning.

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"No use scaring Carol," he said. "I'm going to stay with her till she turns in. I'll take her up forwardand you prowl around and do a sentry go so that that nigger can't reach us. He probably won't try to start anything until pretty late, anyhow. Then, after she's gone to bed, I'll slip overboard and swim ashore. I'll jump a train and be on the Adirondack train when you get aboard. You've got the tickets, W. A. WEBER, Box 56, Mankato, Minn. haven't you? Tell me which stateroom we have. In the morning you can fake some excuse-say I got up early to send some telegrams or buy some shaving soap-any damned lie you can think of." That sounded pretty sensible. Broome were on the train in Albany

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Then Carol came along, and that was the end of our talk. "Of course," she said, gayly, "if you'd rather talk with Bill than watch the scenery with me, Kiko-"

Broome made a gesture.

"Yes, sah-yes, sah, Misto' Murray Broome!" said the waiter, as he brought whatever was wanted.

It was just a whisper; Kiko and I were the only ones who could have heard it. But our eyes met, and I jumped; a lot of cold shivers began running up and down my spine. I remembered the last time I'd heard anyone call Broome by name in that sort of voice. Broome was remembering too -I could see that. He was rather white under that coat of tan he was wearing.

direction, and I planted myself in a dark spot, and began smoking too many cigarettes. The boat wasn't very crowded, but there were a good many people wandering about, at that, and I never saw so many shadows in my life. They kept me on the jump all the time. Every one of them was that waiter, of course; a dozen times I was sure I saw him creeping along, with an open razor in one of those huge hands of his.

I was mighty glad when Broome and Carol came back, along about midnight.

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