Evening star., 1932-08-28
Hooters 0Re Luck
BY r. C. PITZER
Illustrated By PAUL kROESEN

Shots kid wouldn't worry Your dad woul(
buy you out. But being just two hooters wer|
sunk"
Hooters luck, Ned" she reminded him
Wen play the game through together. Bott
lose or win. Teamwork"
You're q good kid. When 1 first stood ir
the wings and watched your act I'd have traded
my rep for a chance to team up with you. And
this is the way I make the grade Funny
isn't it?"
Pat was very flushed and bright-eyed why
Ned" she said softly Il used to watch YOU
stuff too, and think what team we'd make.
He was on his feet. whats that?" he ex
citedly demanded watching me? Thinking
about teaming up? Why, you were like ar
Eskimo reception"
You were 500 famous" she murmured
so big. was afraid of you. But I thought
If we were working together-see what mean
when you come on with your acrobatic stuff
I could follow-look- this"
A ND there in the dim room, on the cold, hard
floor, she in torn evening gown that still
dripped water, and he as expectant of death as
any condemned man waiting the hour and
guards, they started working out their act to-
gether. Their legs few in buck and wing, tap
and toe dancing, and acrobatic tumbling that
whirled them about the cell-like chamber dig
lilly
The steel door opened upon their breathless
activities, but they were so intent upon their
work that for an instant they failed to see Lo-
ran, with his two henchmen, gaping in the
doorway. When at last she became conscious
of them Pat cried aloud and shrank back
Still breathless Ned placed himself in 'front.'
of her as the three men stepped in and the
door changed shut. There was a deadly GER
tainty about that metallic clash. It told of
the end Of all things, but Ned faced it.
Look here, you men," he painted, I'm al
dancer You don't know a doctor when you
see one: you don't even know the looks Of al
medicine kit. And the three of you expect to'
knock down a boss racketeer for million q
You're fools You might wen let us out:
we'll keep our mouths shut. And we're not|
worth lead nickel to you, alive or dead"
The kid wasn't In a faint?" Loran asked
heavily. "She put that out on me- did she?
All fake?"
IVES" Patricia told him with the courage
Of desperation, "all a fake, Loran. And
what would you say if I told you I'm not Fa-
hey's daughter any more than Ned is DR.. Gaw-
thorp? Suppose you brainy crooks kidnapped
the wrong girl as well as the wrong boy?"
Loran blinked, gulped. turned to Tony.
who's this" he began, and Tony turned
pale, interrupted with, Sure, boss, she's the
Big Shots kid. She quit him cold, year ago.
10 GET"
But his voice betrayed his uncertainty. Lo-
ran scowled
You're through, you punk" he said. Wen
have To-
The crack Of Ferrari's gun interrupted him.
and the Big Boy sank to the floor, drawing his
own gun and firing once before he became un-
conscious. Perrone yelled and olutched at his
own wounded shoulder; and Ted instantly
sprang forward to grapple with Ferrari. They
wrestled for q moment; then Pat with a swirl
OF silk neatly kicked the gun out of Ferrari's
hand, Ned trpped him and the man fell heav-
lily, hitting his head on the concrete and COLI
lapsing.
IA /HEN Ned got to his feet Perrone had Just
w succeeded in finding the spring lock- As
the door few open to the pressure of Lorans
inert body the ex-detective darted through.
Ned snatched pistol from the floor.
Quick" he ordered. He'll show us a way
out Follow close. In the garage"
But Perrone chose simpler way He darted
through the short tunnel to the main base
ment. where the secret door remained open,
then, weaving among casks and barrels. gained
the furnace room. He was clambering through
a coal hole when Ned and Pat overlook him.
Ned caught dangling foot and dragged the
fellow back. There was quick, sharp scufae
that ended with Perrone's heavy fall
'Double-header," Ned called; and in an in
slant Pat had clambered to his shoulders and
whipped through the coal hole He sprang
after her, hung for a second by his hands, and
swept up and out to the sidewalk as II cata-
paulted.
I'll IOOFERS luck! Ned exulted; ''it's our
luck, kid. What an act well work up
out of this"
I'VE win" she laughed back. Boy. we win.
Call up my dad, too, and tell him I'm safe
Harrison 1901, Mr.. Patrick Fahey. I send him
my love, am having wonderful time, and
won't see him until he quits the racket.
That's Why left him last wear: and 7 cok