The Kennewick courier-reporter. [volume] (Kennewick, Wash.) 1914-1938, 1933-03-02

him off the football field and swift.
ly to the nearest hospital
mo more football-for met" ne
essayed a smile. You've been
overgenerous with your bandages
haven't your" he queried.
mot more than you needed, my
lad" said one kindly surgeon.
aside from a seriously smashed
knee, you also have q twisted
wrist q dislocated collar bone and
a slightly cracked nose bridge"
"But apart from that I'm quite all
right" BARRIERS twisted smile hurt
the tender hearts Of those nurses
who had helped the surgeons patch
up the battered player. Suppose
I'll have to take to addressing en-.
yelopes for a career"
"or writing poetry" suggested
the surgeon. "It's certain youu
never play football again and-the
country's going to miss you, my
boy"
The nurses turned away. BARRIERS
fine mouth, despite the effort he
made, was quivering. A football
hero he was and now he lay physi
cally shattered and rudely sundered
from all that made life interesting.
There was one, however, who
looked upon BARRIERS plight with
eyes that had CLINT Of triumph
in them. She, the girl whom Bar.
Der had wanted to marry, had per
sistently refused to marry profes
sional football player. Perhaps
now that football as q profession
had been snatched from him, he
would listen to reason and take up
some business which would mean
a regular salary and some kind of
definite return assured. a5
Marcella never quite knew wheth-
er IL was touch Of snObbishness
on her part or whether she dreaded
merely being the wife Of the IA.
nous Robert Barber.
"At any rate" she had often said
to Barber, Il would much prefer
to love man who made his living
by means of his brain power In.
stead of by his athletic accomplish
ments.n
"You don't love me. ,Marcella, or
you wouldn't mind my profession
being what It is-it is perfectly
honorable"
So In the hospital Barber lay
there thinking over all that Mar
celia had said and realizing that she
certainly had a right to her views.
Certainly athletes could not be
called interesting as whole.
And as week upon week went by
and Barber still lay In the hospital
the time began to hang heavily
upon him. Tired of reading. bored
with crossword puzzles. quite fed
up with his own inner resources
Barber fell prey to depression.
II was his little red-haired nurse
whom he nicknamed Crimson Ram
bier because of her hair and her
natural tendency to ramble happily
all over the place In search of
amusement for her patients, who
brought him some modelling wax.
sits what children love TO play
with on a rainy day. Now you Just
start right in and try to model me
or that bed post-whichever inter.
ests you most"
Barber laughed and pressed the
soft clay with his fingers now sen.
sitive to suffering and strangely un.
like his own strong hands. AS Q
matter of fact, Barber had always
had secret longing TO model things
but had crushed down the feeling
lest he be considered a first-class
nut
And so, In another weeks time
there was a most amusing array OF
tiny figures standing upright on his
DGuStuG cbduQ. NutSCc CiOAl 0hO
nurses tall = nurses smiling and
nurses glum-and generous sprin.
Killing of white.robed surgeons and q
kiddie or two all Joined In that Gu.
rious group of small images.
But above all Barher's eyes had
taken on a new interest In things
about him. The depression was
gradually giving way to something
akin to hidden fires bursting out.
wardly into flame.
And that career Of art. started IN
so curious way. was 10 carry Bar
her to the very heights. for the lit
tie figures standing so bravely there
in the hospital. held that in their
workmanship which only the mas.
ter hand can contribute.
Marcella felt her heart beat fri.
umphantiy. for surely now she
would say yes to the question
which Barber had so many times
asked.
II was through the Crimson Ram,
bier thar the dragging forth of q
sculptor-to-he took place, for In her
rambling about she came across one
who was well In a position to ex