Music soothes the Savage Beast! 

by Unknown Author

Originally published in Scoop Comics #1 in 1941.

"Quit blowing that harmonica," Sergeant Quinn roared, pulling the tent flap aside. "I'm supposed to stall the chiefs of fifty thousand blood-thirsty Arabs until the delegation from the home office arrives to find out how much gold it'll take to keep them loyal to the Empire." He wiped a sweat-streaked face. It's hot enough to fry eggs in the shade, Quinn continued, and all you do is play that harmonica. Quinn let the tent flap drop. Those foreign correspondents, bah!" he raved as he walked off. 

Scoop Daily grinned as he wiped the harmonica on his shirt sleeves. He grabbed a pencil and for a few minutes lost himself in the notes he scribbled on the pad. Then grabbing his hat, Scoop sallied out into the blazing sun. He slipped up to the white-robed group at the oasis and stretched out on the grass. Slowly his eyes closed. 

..."Did you hear that?" the gruff voice of Sergeant Quinn roused him. 

"It's too hot to listen to that stuff," Scoop, replied. "I'm hunting news, not orations!"

"Listen," Quinn barked. "He just said the German Government has offered the desert tribes much gold and guns to drive the British from the desert. 

"So what?” Scoop growled. When your delegation arrives they'll double the offer and the Arabs will swear allegiance to them."

"But our delegation won't be here for another six hours. It might be too late by..." Quinn's voice trailed off at the sight of a white-robed figure leaping to its feet. 

I call for an immediate vote," the screaming Arab shouted. We must side with the German Government, he continued. They respect us by sending officials to parley with us, while the British stand by idly!” 

Quinn leaped to his feet and rushed to the center of the circle. "I plead with you to wait six more hours," he bellowed. 

Silence followed. Another white-robed chief sprang up. For days we have been waiting, he roared, and it has always been the same, 'they will come.' The tribes of the East will not wait. We vote to accept the German offer." 

Another white-robed figure rose. The tribes of the North, he said slowly, vote with their Eastern brothers! 

Scoop Daily's eyes widened. The entire Arab nation was in danger of becoming hostile to the British. 

Swiftly, he jumped to his feet. He faced into the center of the circle as the Western Chief was about to speak. Quickly, he shoved his little harmonica between his parched lips and began playing. 

The Arab Chief slid back into his seat as Scoop danced round and round the circle. Jazz, old-time songs, classics, and swing, he played them all. Not a sound from the Arabs as they sat motionless listening to the sweet melodies. 

Scoop's clothes were soaking, streams of perspiration rolled from him—but he played on. He dared not stop. A glance toward Sergeant Quinn told him that the fate of the whole British Empire depended on his ability to keep them entertained. Quinn was silently pleading with him to keep going. 

"Round and Round the Mulberry Bush," "Yankee Doodle," "Sidewalks of New York," "I Want a Girl Just Like the Girl...etc." One after another. Hour after hour until he grew tired, weary, wearier, and soon slumped to the ground. 

Scoop opened his eyes to face the smiling Sergeant Quinn. It's over," the Army man shouted, you held them until our delegation arrived and now the Arabs are on the side of the British. 

Sergeant Quinn helped Scoop to his tent. You did it all right—but six hours of playing, why? You, foreign correspondents, don't care who wins the war—as long as there's a story, Quinn said. 

Scoop grinned through parched lips and replied, "I wrote my story in advance, that the Arabs were going to back the British and I'll be darned if I was going to rewrite it in this heat!" 

Scoop turned to the Sergeant and suddenly burst out with a roar of laughter as he saw the husky Sergeant kissing the small harmonica affectionately. 

END