“Over the Hill"

King Country Chronicle, Volume XXVI, Issue 3442, 12 March 1932, Page 2 (Supplement)

“Over the Hill"

Copyright, 1931, by the Fox Film Corporation.

Synopsis of Preceding Chapters. Mrs Shelby’s greatest happiness is caring for the wants of her four children—lsaac, Thomas, John and Susan —and those of her shiftless husband. She washes, irons, takes in the neighbours’ sewing, and cares for the farm animals, but is content. In the sixteenth Christmas after the story opens they have gathered for dinner and the ceremony of decorating a tree. Isaac has become a collector for an instalment house, Thomas is an artist in New York, John lives at home and Susan is married. John has never been able to marry, because he has taken care of his parents, but for some time Pa has been mysteriously prosperous through an “invention,” upon which he works secretly in the barn. In the evening, while the Christmas tree is still being decorated, Johnny and Isabelle start walking down the country road to her home. CHAPTER 111. As they walked on they talked of their plans for the future. He told her that if his father continued with his seeming prosperity he hoped they would be able to marry the following June. Tears came to her eyes. They rounded a turn in the road and were startled by a shadowy figure which suddenly flashed a light in their faces. “Where you folks going?” the stranger asked. - “I’m taking this young lady home,” Johnny told him, blinking in the strong light. “Who are you?” “State trooper,” he replied, showing a badge. “What’s doing?” asked Johnny with eager curiosity. The trooper put his flashlight in his overcoat pocket and lighted a cigarette. “Nothing much.” “Well, I don’t wish anybody any harm,” commented Johnny as he and Isabelle started off. “Neither do I. Good night, folks.” “Good-night and Merry Christmas,” called Isabelle as they walked away. * * * * * Ma finished arranging the presents under the tree long after the others had gone to bed. While she was still busy Pa slipped out of the kitchen door and hurried toward the barn. He pushed his old Ford touring car down the incline out of the barn without starting the engine. It rolled silently down the driveway past the house into the main road. As it gained momentum on the hill Pa fixed the spark and engaged the motor.

Johnny said good-night to Isabelle at her door and promised to return for her in the morning. He whistled happily as he regained the road and started briskly toward home, slipping now and then where melting snow had turned into ice.

A shot echoed in the night silence. Two more shots followed almost immediately. The wail of a siren followed, and he could hear the exhaust of an automobile. At the foot of a hill near Isabelle’s home where there was a turn in the road he found his father struggling with the Ford. It had skidded from the road. “Pa!” shouted Johnny, in amazement.

Pa Shelby clambered hurriedly out of his old car. He threw a stick under the wheels and tried racing the motor once more. Nothing happened. The car was embedded in the snow at the side of the road. He turned to Johnny in extreme agitation. “Get away from her—go on home,” he ordered. “What have you been doing, Pa?” He looked on the floor in front of the rear seat. Several jugs were visible. “So this is how you’ve been getting that money—bootlegging?” he asked in horror. “You won’t tell Ma?” pleaded his father. They could hear a police whistle in the distance. The old man became panic stricken. “Get away from her, Johnny, before you get into trouble, too.” Johnny gripped both his father’s arms. “You’re coming with me—come on—we’ll cut through the woods.” Pa was helpless. He would not move. “No use running away and leaving my car loaded with this stuff! They’ll nab me just the same. Johnny realised 'the truth of this. They could hear voices of troopers searching along the road and bypaths and could see the flash of their lights in the distance.

“You go ahead, Pa. I’ll unload the car.” He shoved his father toward the woods, and began hurtling the jugs into the snow among the trees. He had hardly begun when a man stepped out of the shadows with drawn gun. “You’re under arrest, young fellow. We’ve caught you with the goods.” Johnny stood in silence as he was handcuffed. In the morning Ma gave one last swift survey of her Christmas tree and its pile of packages before starting breakfast After eating they all gathered about—Susan, Thomas, Phyllis and Ben. When Ma opened the package containing the cameo brooch she was amazed and delighted. Half in joy, half in protest, she darted across the room and kissed Pa, saying: “Oh, Pa,, you shouldn’t have spent all that money for me.” He smiled wanly.

They were admiring the brooch when Isaac came in with his wife. He shook the snow from his feet. In a

Serial Story In Six Instalments, j

tone that silenced the merry making he began: “Well, I always knew he’d do it!”

“What are you talking about?” asked Thomas, sharply. “Johnny.” He continued to remove his muffler and coat with exasperating calm. “Where is he?” asked Ma, in alarm. “In jail,” he told her. Mrs Shelby could not believe what she heard. “My Johnny in jail?” She stood for a few moments facing Isaac. “What for?” asked Ben. “Bootlegging. He was arrested last night,” Isaac told them. “And that’s not the worst of it! One of the State troopers was shot in the back . . . and if he dies . . .” Mrs Shelby screamed and ran up the stairs to make sure Johnny was not st.ll in bed. She came down moaning. “My Johnny! My Johnny.” Before any of them could stop her she threw a shawl over her head and shoulders and dashed outdoors hysterically. : i : * * * * At the trial Isabelle offered to testify that she had walked home with Johnny that night, but he would not permit it. There was no defence. Isabelle sat in dumb silence, wondering who Johnny was trying to shield. His mother sat by her side, hearing the testimony but not believing it. It seemed incredible to her that a jury could convict her boy. When the Verdict of “three years at hard labour” was brought in she could not comprehend. Only when she saw Johnny led into a patrol waggon outside the courthouse manacled to a deputy sheriff did the full horror of the tragedy burst upon her. Ignoring traffic, she tried to run after the patrol. Isabelle helped her to her feet as she fell, and led her back to the sidewalk where Pa was standing, an abject figure.

As the weeks passed Pa faded. Ma sewed on for the neighbours with mechanical persistency, earning the meagre funds which kept the household together. Day after day he sat fascinated and horrified by the noise of the machine as he thought of the dusty prison jute mill where Johnny 'yvas working. “Does the machine make too much noise, Pa?” she asked solicitously, watching the changing his face. She rose anxiously and pßt her hands on his shoulders. “ Now, listen, Pa. It isn’t going to help Johnny for you to feel like this—he doesn’t want you to worry about him.” Pa faced the floor agitatedly. “What am I going to do? What else can I think about ? ” “Well, Pa, there’s your invention,” she suggested by way of diversion. _ “My invention,” he exploded, “if you on’y knew.” He rose with an air of decision, “and you might as well! Then you’ll know what a mess I’ve made of my life!” She smiled and stroked his head. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, Pa.” She took his hand. “You’ve done the best you could. I’m satisfied.” He stared at her. “That’s what makes it so hax-d,” he mumbled half to himself'. She drew him gently down to the couch. “It hasn’t been for me,” she whispered. “You’ve been the best husband in the world.” She drew his head down on her shoulder. Pa relaxed like a t'red child. She continued sofDy- “There, now. Don’t talk any more. Just keep your head right there. And rest. Just rest.” (To be continued.)