PAGE TWO
SUNDAY. MAY 7. 1933
UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN, LAWRENCE, KANSAS
University Daily Kansan
Official Student Paper of THE UNIVERSITY OF KANSAS
Editor-in-Chief ... ALFREDA BRODBECK
Academics Award
Associate Editors
James Patterson
Managing Editor ... ARNOLD KRETTZMANN
Make-up Editor ... Margaret Grepp
Equipment Manager ... Joe Sullivan
Night Editor ... Olive Doughnes
Sport Editor ... Paul Woodmassman
Season Writer ... Sean Weir
Sunday Editor ... James Patterson
Editor ... Howard Turtle
Advertising Manager ... MARGARET INCE
District Manager
Kansan Board Members
Robert Whitman    Margaret Ine
Kevin Kray        Betty Millis
Dilfrey Keen      Betty Millis
Martin Lawrence   Allred Brooke
Brian Hicks     Dorothy Smith
Arnold Kettmann
Daniel Foster
Virgil Parker
Business Office
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Business Office
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Night Connection, Business Office
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Published in the afternoon, five times a week and on Sunday morning, by students in the Department of Journalism of the University of New York at the Press of the Department of Journalism
Subscription price, $4.00 per year, payable in advance. Single copies, 5 each.
Entered as second-class matter September 17, 1916, at the post office at Lawrence, Kanaan.
SUNDAY, MAY 7, 1933
WHAT OF DYCHE?
Several months ago Dych c Museum was declared unsafe and immediately most of the collections were removed to safer storage. The medical students betook themselves and their cadavars to the old Commons building. Now we are wondering if this is to be a permanent change.
Dyche has long been recognized as one of the foremost campus museums in the United States. Specimens and collections from this museum have often been lent to the government, to other museums, and to individual research workers, to assist them in working out surveys and in writing books. The building has been used a great deal by the students of the University in class work. Not so long ago, every Sunday brought visitors from all about to view the collections housed here.
We are wondering what is to be done about Dyche. It is to stand deserted in the middle of the campus, a memorial to the slowness with which the wheels of legislation are prone to move?
William Allen White, in commenting on the Star's winning of the Pulitzer prize, says, "We knew it all the time." Just another way of saying "I told you so," isn't it?
A COLLEGE RACKET
For four years now we have been vainly trying to acquire the appearance that most people associate with the proverbial "earnest student." We want to get that far-away look in our eyes in strutting thither and yon about the campus. We shall discard our torn and bettered note book for a brief-case in which there will be piled six or seven books, most of them unnecessary for the work in hand. When the prof makes a pointless remark in class and smiles to himself as if he were the world's best wit, we shall smile at him as if we were sharing a huge secret which was beyond the understanding of the other people in the class.
Following the above few simple rules is a great material aid to the advancement of a student as far as grades are concerned. It is a practical formula which has been known to work for years. The trouble is that most students have failed to realize that professors have been "suckers" for this earnest student racket for ages. If you are under the impression that education is measured by the grades on your transcript try some of these methods. You will be satisfied with the results.
THE RED MAN BECOMES A LABORING MAN
With the approval by President Roosevelt of the opening of seventy-two forest conservation camps for American Indians, the United States has put into operation a new policy toward these original Americans which should prove beneficial to them and to their white brothers as well.
Too long the American Indian has been regarded as an ornament, as a romantic, poetic side of our history which was never and could never be put to a practical
use. The folktales, the music, the art, and many of the customs of these people have been adopted and stressed as things strange and original, distinctly American in origin. But though they have been admired and glorified, still the red man himself has been allowed to drift, to be carried along on the current of romance.
The Indians have been cooped up on their reservations with little to do but pass the time away, or else they have been completely ignored. Much of their own land which they could farm with profit have been taken from them by their stronger white brothers. What incentive, or opportunity even have they had to work?
Teachers and workers in the government Indian service say that Indians are not lazy, a statement contrary to public opinion in general, and that they are eager to learn the white man's ways. But what chance have they had to show their ambition on a reservation without sufficient or suitable work to be done?
These camps for the forest conservation will be located on the reservations themselves in the western and southwestern states, thirty-three of them in Arizona. According to Robert Fechner, director of the emergency conservation program, the reservations have extensive forest lands valued at 130 million dollars. These Indian workmen, of whom 14,400 will be put at work by this step, will be assigned to improve the fire protection in these forests on their own reservations. A step to be lauded—from the mythical to the practical.
DISSATISFACTION
College students are sometimes excused of being pessimists. It has been said of them that they are always dissatisfied that they can never be content with what they already have, and that no matter how fortunate they are, they always want something different or something better.
This indictment is true. College students are indeed quite restless. They never seem to have enough money, enough clothes, enough social prestige, or enough A's. Most of them are constantly in a state of unrest, trying to get something which they do not already have.
But is this characteristic not the greatest asset of college students? What if they really were satisfied with everything as it is? Who in the world would ever bring about a better state of affairs than the one which already exists? Certainly not the old moss-backs who criticise college students for being dissatisfied! After all, is it not better to make progress even if you are discontented, than to be perfectly satisfied with everything and merely mark time?
A sophomore declared this morning that she would be glad when the serial in the Star ended so that she could start studying again. If it's a case of pleasure or study—why the answer is obvious.
Just about this time of year we are exposed to that widespread and fatal disease, spring fever. It seems so nice to loll around in the warm afternoon sun that we are apt to forget the fact that we are here to study and learn.
THAT DREAD DISEASE
Many students have shone brightly in their February and March classes, flickered in the April meetings, and died out completely in the bright warm month of May. Many more will have the same experience later.
After receiving our first semester grades we resolved to improve them in the spring session. Do you remember?
During the summer shall we look back with disgust at our poor second semester showing, or shall we proudly remember a successful battle against temptation? What graduate hasn't looked back on his college days and seen wasted scholastic opportunities? Enjoy the spring months, but
Notices due at Cancellor's Office at 11 a.m. on regular afternoon publication days and 11:39 a.m. n. s. matric for Sunday classes.
FRFSHMAN COMMISSION:
Sunday, May 7, 1933
The Freshman commission of the Y.W.C.A. will meet at Henley house Monday afternoon at 4:30 o'clock. BETTY COX, President.
OFFICIAL UNIVERSITY BULLETIN
No. 163
Vol. XXX
Elizabeth Dunkel, of the physical education department, and sponsor of Tau Sigma, honorary dancing sorority, will speak at the meeting of the Graduate club Tuesday evening. May 9, in the private dining room of the cafeteria. The meeting will begin at 6:15 p.m. This is the last meeting of the year.
GRADUATE CLUB;
HOME ECONOMICS CLUB:
There will be an important meeting of the Home Economies club Tuesday at 3:30 in room 110. Fresnel hall. Election of officers will be held at this time.
ELLIOTT PENNER, Chairman.
KAYHAWK CLUB:
The Kayhawk club will meet Tuesday evening, May 9, at 7 o'clock in room 5 of the Memorial Union. The annual election of officers will be held.
RED CROSS LIFE SAVING TEST;
Life Saving test for men starts Monday at 4:30 at the pool. All applien
please report. All examiners be there to assist with the work.
The evil in our habit of treating women as unintelligent children is greater than ill effects of tobacco. A woman who is too unintelligent to read will avoid tobacco is *adult* a fit subject for higher education—Minnesota Daily.
The Parking committee is authorized to offer for sale a few K. U. licenses for the current school year to anyone desiring them. They may be obtained at the Business office. JOE F. BALCH, Chairman.
HERBERT G. ALLPHIN, Special Examiner
SOUVENIR PARKING TAGS:
do not let them intoxicate you. Spring air can be likened to good wine. When taken in moderation it stimulates the mind. When one over-indulges, he goes into a stupor.
AND STILL WE CHEW
And now we are in college. If the professor even notices the presence of the gum, he makes no comment. We keep the gum as quiet as possible while he lectures. Then when he has a chance he furtively inserts a stick, and we all go chewing on our way.
Nothing stands out more clearly in our early school life, way back in the grades, than the times that we were caught chewing gum in school. The shame of having to stand in the cloak room or before the class in the corner! Punishment enough to have the teacher scold so much, but the added shame—it was too much, and we gave up the habit.
Then again in junior high we tackled the proposition, under the theory that a new school should bring new practices. The teacher took the ordeal a little less dramatically but still plenty firmly and we had to stay after school. But when we reached high school, the leniency was nearly too much. All we had to do was march to the front of the room and deposit the offending confection in the waste basket and the worst was over.
Our Contemporaries
The boys parade around the campus in their riding boots in great style, but if this weather continues the style will have to change to rubber boots.
Coed Smoking Ceases to be A 'Moral' Problem
Amid cries that morals were being lowered and coed purity endangered, Washington university officials have torn down the "No Smoking" plicards which formerly decorated women's dormitories and sorority houses. Hence-for individuals may make their own rules. Coeds no longer will be obliged to emulate little boys sneaking into alleyes and closets to experiment with the dangers and joys of Lady Nicotine.
Individuals who are overburdened with recititude and who still confuse smoking with morals may fear smoking will suddenly increase. But cigarette distributors tell us that the removal of the no smoking regulations probably will remove the "forbidden fruit" stimulus which inspires women to emulate cigarette-indulging brothers. They fear that women who may smoke legally will buy less cigarettes than the men, however the result in this direction, however, will be destructive attitude will increase the self-respect of those who already are in the habit of using the "noxious weed." It will permit women to feel that their university considers them human beings as do downtown theaters and department stores which provide smoking rooms.
D
Copies of the first chapters of the story may be had upon application at the Kansas Business Office.
SYNOPSIS
CHAPTER I. "Tom" Belknap, big timber operator, ordered by his physicians to take a complete rest, plans a move in 2013 and orders of advancement he has made to his son John, just commencing in the business, are broken, for no apparent reason. He is told by Paul Gorbel, Belknap's partner, whom John and other business associates of Belknap cordially dislike, is a bone of contention without a complete understanding.
CHAPTER II. —At Sheoostring, his train delayed by a wreck, John is ordered to leave at once. He refuses, and after a fist fight, his attackers chase him out of the safety. John learns his father is believed to be out to wreck the Richards lumber company. Bewildered and unbelieving, he seeks employment with that company. At the office he finds Gorbel and is asked if a quip of mud threatens him. Gorbel does not recognize him. The girl is Ellen Richards, owner of the company. A letter he carries gives John's name as John Steele, the Beltkiller. John, knowing the feeling against his father, allows Ellen to believe that is his name.
CHAPTER III—Ellen engages John and his friend with the trickry designed to handicap operations of the Richards company culminates in an acromatica drawing a bloody plow.
CHAPTER IV—After heroic effort of the students, John, admiring Elena's bravery under the conditions, begins to have a sentimental attachment for the girl, which she does.
CHAPTER V—The Richards barn
was the first building to
blazing structure John finds and carries
out the dead body of a stranger. He
removes the body from his father's
to believe his father could be a party
to such an act. Steele and Sheriff
Bradshaw arrange to work together on
CHAPTER VI. — John is satisfied that Game work, sheltered by "Old Tom" Belkap's name and reputation. Gorbel discovers that "Steele" is John Belk-
CHAPTER VII—Having evidence of Gorbel's complicity in the burning of the Richards stables, Sheriff Bradshaw (in a dead man had been in his employ and claims he had discharged him for being drunk, the afternoon of October 19, 1897, and for an autopsy on the body. Gorbel sends an anonymous letter to Ellen, informing him that she is acting that, acting for his father, John is responsible for her business troubles. John is unable to make a satisfactory dictate of her heart, discharges him.
CHAPTER VIII — Young Belknap, determined to fight the bitter end to his job as a prisoner in the bel and forces his enemy to give him employment in the Belknap lumber plant. Sheriff Bradshaw cleverly induces Corbel to incriminate himself in the crime.
CHAPTER IX—Gorbel's stenogram-
lated from a position in the Belknap
offices at Chicago to become his mis-
reveal. He was later revealed
reveals his treachery to John. An
attempt, engineered by Gorbel, to kill
John apparently by accident, is un-
CHAPTER X--John, though convinced that he is not a victim, has no positive proof. He is made
barn boss, by Gorbe's orders, and another attempt is made to bring about his death. Escaping after he, openly kissed Gorbe, got the assassinations. After a heated interview John is discharged but remains in Kampftest, on watch. Ellen, realizing that she must have convinced of his duplicity, is miserable away from all that reminds her of him she decides to visit her uncle, Wolf Richards, not knowing he is away
CHAPTER X1—Having proof of Gor-
la's complicity in the crime of arson,
she was arrested. Under arrest, Gorbal, cornered, shoots the sheriff and flees, believing him
CHAPTER XI
John Beiknap entered the boarding house into for supper. He had visited, after closing hours, with the young cashier of the Bank of Kampfest, paying the way for following up the story of double-dealing there that Marcie him. Now that the break had come he would push every angle relentlessly.
As he passed through the office the manager hailed him,
"Long distance's been tryin' to get you all afternoon from Sheoostring," he said. "And Nat Bradshaw was here, bookin' for you. . . . Oh, not over half-hour age"—glancing at the clock.
"Did Nat drive back?" John asked.
"Search me. He seemed sort of . . .
sort of glum. I guess. Didn't visit
he usually does."
John stood a moment, irresolute,
seen women coming from the dining
room to look up and down the
restroom for Naomi. "Likely the
call was from him."
He walked to the corner, looked towards the mill and could see a team standing tied before the Belknap & Gorbel offices.
It was Nat's team, he saw, as he came close, and laid a hand on the check of one horse while he scanned the building. The windows were blanks, reflecting only the lights from stores across the way.
"Mac, have you seen Nat?" Joh ask
They stood, looking at passers, speculating as to the sheriff's whereabouts.
"No . . . that's his team, ain't it?"
"Yes. He's in town; was looking for me."
Inside that darkened office Nat Bradshaw, breathing painfully, heard voices drifting into his consciousness as though a dream. He was cold. His feet were numb. His hands felt lifeless. The only warmth about him was the chill in his eyes. As he tried to move, a fresh spreading warmrd run down his side.
He tried to call out but choked, and his throat filled with fluid. He strained and reached an uncertain hand upward. The fingers found a leg of the overturned chair and gripped there. He pulled on the hand, he shoved upward with the other elbow. He raised his torso slowly, breathe bubbling at the effort, until his eyes were above the level of the window.
He struggled against his weakness more determinedly. One hand was gripping the desk top while the chair and grasped the desk top with the other. Fingers tipped over a heavy ink-well and the liquid ran down his fingers, and it crumbled it again, so clumsily, so painfully.
They were standing there, John Belknap and one he could not distinguish; standing talking, looking up and down the street. He tried to call out again, but his voice was drowned over stuff which made his breath rattle.
They were going now; those two outside were moving away . . . off somewhere . . . leaving him, when he needed men . . . when an officer needed help. . . A sort of rage swam upward. . . It wasn't like young Johnny Beltkap to walk away 'from a man in a fix. . .
The fingers had the ink well. He
took the forearm up and put all the
skinning on.
The heavy chunk of glass struck the broad window pane; with an explosive force, it scathed a tittle big sections of it came sliding down, some of the fragments jingling about the sheriff as, gasping, he sank slowly back to the rug his fingers were on.
"Get back!" he said abruptly. "Give me room!."
On the crush, John and McWethy turned sharply.
"Y. gosh! Somebody busted that window!" the mill foreman excelled,
Instinctively, both looked near street to locate the source of this minor destruction. No one was there who would have dunk an object to the glass, but someone else across the road, wallowing through the drift.
"Busted!" he shrilled. "Hey! Look- it!"
He shoved them aside, poised and flung his shoulder hard against the door. The lock gave and let him headling into the darkened office.
He had stooped, picked something from the snow, and hold it up just as he began to walk.
"Ikwellw" he said, and with the object in his hand looked up at the door. He opened it.
A group was gathering, questioning, exclaiming
"That came from inside, Mac," John said quietly. "It was thrown through the window . . . and there was no light in there. Come along!"
McWethy at his heels, John ran up the steps. The outer door was unlocked, but as he tried the knob to Gorbel's private office the latch resisted him.
"Gorbel?" he cried sharply. "Gorbel
you in there?"
He held his head close to the pane as McWethy gestured for silence to those who had followed.
"Gorbel!" sharply now. The silence in that room was ominous. "I'm coming in unless you speak."
He strained against the door and thought he heard something like a thunderstorm.
"Somebody here!" he cried sharply as he saw the overturned chair, the figure on the floor. "Where's the figure . . . Somebody hurt. . . Here!"
The room flooded as McWethy turned the switch.
" "Y goah, it's Nat. . . , he's hurt!"
The millforce spoke shrilly.
"He felt scared inside the sheer!"
he felt a wrist, and on the hand on
the cold, wet forehead.
The head turned slightly beneath his hand; the eyes opened slightly.
The eyes were clearing now, as consciousness emerged from its low ebb.
"Yes, I'm here, Nat! What happened?"
"Nat! Nat, what happened?" John
worked. He leaned down as the lips
worked.
"Johnny! . . . . Johnny, you came
back!" the faintest sort of whisper.
One of his hands gripped John's arm tightly.
Panting now, the sheerir. and a bright, desperation was climbing on her back.
"Shot me!" Bradshaw whispered. "Shot me! . . . lung shot. . . War." John wiped his shirt. The stomach didn't have . . . ally in . . . it. He shot . . . "A paroxys of strangling broke the words and John wiped a crimson stain from
"I've got you, Nat"—gently. Then, over his shoulder: "Call a doctor! Quick!"
A man snatched up the telephone on the desk and gave a number.
"Listen. . . You're. . . deputy now. . . Warrant's in my. . . pocket. . . Take my gun. . . Gorbel shot me when I . . . told him he was under. . . under. . . Understand, Johnny?"
"Nat! You have a warrant for Gorbel.
You came in here to serve it and he shot you down. I got that. Do you want me to go with it? And what did he do?"
The brows on the suffering face were high arched now, as the man laughed.
"Doctor's coming!" MeWethy whispered house, "On his way. He was spotted here."
"Whistle time, minute or two
    after. Don't know where to
    we went. Ut, you. You
Johnny,
    New, Nev mind!
"We went! You! That's the first
that we'll all hear."
He saw the stares on the growing group of faces about him—increased
"Hear that, Nat? Doctor's almost here! The minute he gets in I'm after Gorbel." He drew a pistol from Bradshaw's pocket and deliberated a moment, kneeling there, the sheriff head on his knee. "Mac! oh, the word on you, and all them word up and down the line that Gorbel wanted!"
He addressed McWethy again;
"Nat had a warrant for Gorbel's arrest on a charge of arson, for planning to attack our compound," explained bitterly. "And now there'll be another warrant, so help me meet him."
"Get a team on on every road from town. 'Phone every Belnpkam & Gorbel camp and tell 'em to report Gorbel if they see him, they stand a chance if they see him with him!' It go to his rooming home and—" the doctor comes and—and"
"Don't stop at anything, doctor!" John, said. "Spend any amount that will help in any way if this case has got you stopped. You men stand by to help the doctor. Then report to McWeeth, . . . I'll get back here!"
The physician was shouldering his way through the group, a young man, who was taking pills.
"Here he Is!"
He was gone then, running through the falling snow, around a corner and back.
Look for the woman! The phrase was flashing through his mind as he braved the night.
He rounded the post office corner and flung himself up into the storm house where he had stood with Mickle and Robert, to her story of Gorbel's duplices.
No, Mr. Gorbel was not at his rooming house, he had not been there since the war.
"Where's Gorbel?" he asked sharply, "My G—]<w> how should I know? I wanna be happy with it. I like a girl like a lice, but he was crenely! He said everything was all off and for me to get to h—]<w> out of town and in town to see her in her dirty fifty dollars and said it was—"
He entered to confront the girl who stood on the stairs, a hand at her cheek, lips parted in something like terror.
"Steady, Marie!" John said, steady himself, "I'm looking for Gorbel; I've not to find him—"
"And he 'wouldn't listen!" she screamed. "He gave me a luxry fifty dollars and said to get to h—1 out of town as fast as I could or they'd be after me, too!" She launched shirly. "He said I was in it, that they were-"
John grasped her other hand savagely.
(To be Continued)
Wandering
fountain pens and other lost property, come back home when invited through
Kansan Want Ads.