Newspaper Page Text
pretty Patterns That
Are Oh So Practical!
SOMEWHAT formal, so that you
ca n wear it smartly for shop
ing and runabout, is the wide
shouldered dress with buttons
down the scalloped bodice and
braid used to give the effect of a
bolero. The circular skirt has a
charming, animated swing to it.
In batiste, linen or flat crepe, it’s
a dress you’ll thoroughly enjoy all
summer long.
Indispensable Slacks Suit.
If you’re planning to have a lot
of outdoor fun this summer (and
of course you are) then a slacks
suit is an indispensable part of
1750
your vacation wardrobe. This one
includes a topper with front gath
ers that flatter your figure, well
cut, slim-hipped slacks, and a bo.
lero with wide revers that you can
wear with daytime frocks, too.
Denim, gingham, flannel or gab
ardine are practical materials for
this.
The Patterns.
No. 1741 is designed for sizes 14,
16, 18, 20, 40 and 42. Size 16 re
quires 4% yards of 35 inch mate
rial with nap. Three yards of
braid.
No. 1750 is designed for sizes 12,
14, 16, 18, 20 and 40. Size 14 re
quires 3 3 A yards of 39 inch mate
rial for slacks and bolero; % yard
for topper.
Send your order to The Sewing
Circle Pattern Dept., Room 1324,
211 W. Wacker Dr., Chicago, 111.
Price of patterns, 15 cents (in
coins) each.
(Bell Syndicate—WNU Service.)
How Women
in Their 40’s
Can Attract Men
Hera’a good advice for a woman during her
change (usually from 38 to 52), who leara
she’ll lose her appeal to men, who worries
about hot dashes, loss of pep, dizzy spells,
upset nerves and moody spells.
Get more fresh air, 8 nrs. sleep and if you
need a good general system tonic take Lydia
E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound, made
especially for women. It helps Nature bu3d
up physical resistance, thus helps give more
vivacity to enjoy life and assist calming
jittery nerves and disturbing symptoms that
often accompany change of life. WELL
WORTH TRYING!
Human Pity
More helpful than all wisdom is
one draught of simple human
pity that will not forsake us.—
George Eliot.
•
■IrnTL A wonderful aid for bo(U
where a drawing agent
1 is indicated. Soothing
II i] 11 I and comforting. Fine for
• children and grown-up*.
Practical. Economical.
Sure of Failure
Folks that’s afeared to fail are
sure of failure.—Lowell.
I «»r;i i I Soothing, cooling, soft-.
I niXCDBII I ening to rough or Irrl-
I Han Hr" I tated hands —ideal tov
I «*QiIUS I chafed skin. Try It.
PE MET WO
Security of Fools
The wise too jealous are, fools
too secure.—Congreve.
Grandmother knew,loo!
■Do you realize that as far back
33 your Grandmother could prob
ably remember, Wintersmith’s has
been one of the South’s best-known
tonics for Malaria and for use as
a General Tonic. For over 70 years,
People can’t be wrong!
‘A a bottle and see for yourself I
WINTERSHITH’S
TONIC
~~~ 22—39
Mountain man
A Sasutesi tylctum Serial
®N. C. Wlr«—-WNU Servlc# By HAROLD CHANNING WIRE
CHAPTER XXll—Continued
—2o—
shook his head, but he could
reconstruct what had happened. Art
getting drunk after Irene threw him
down; brooding over it; driven at
Ifist to take it out on somebody.
Standing here in the cabin, he could
still fee the distorted face thrust
close to his.
Joe Scott came in, a big, dark
faccd man. He held a lamp near
the wound, probed a little with his
pocket knife, then straightened.
’’Arm bone’s broke, rib shattered
some. Good thing the lead went
clean through.”
“We'll have to get him down,”
said Cook.
Scott wagged his head. ‘‘No; too
much danger of that rib puncturin’
a lung. I’d say send for a doc
tor.” He bent again over the cow
boy, adding, “Ain’t goin’ to bleed
much and he’s passed out in a
drunk. Get me some rags and I’ll
fix him up for the time bein’.”
Louise went for them. Breck
strode frofn the door, saying to
Cook, “I’ll tell Lone Tree to send
a surgeon.”
By this tune word had gotten out
to the dancers, and he came at once
among a knot of men beyond the
shanty.
“What happened, Ranger?”
“A gun went off,” Breck replied.
“Nothing serious.”
“Who’s hurt?”
He mumbled a name indistinctly
and passed on toward the telephone.
There he rang Lone Tree, order
ing the clerk to send up a doctor,
and to make certain of getting the
right man, told how badly Tillson
was shot.
When he turned from the phone,
Irene was standing at his back.
“Gordon!” she gasped. Her face
was blanched, eyes wide in a look of
comprehension, as if she realized
her part in this. “I heard what you
said. Tell me . . . tell me what
happened. Gordon, did you kill
. . .?”
He put a hand firmly on her shoul
der, turning her around. “Go back
to your family, Irene. Don’t fright
en them. I’ll come later.”
“But tell me ...”
“For God’s sake do as I say!”
Back at the cabin he found Joe
Scott and Cook finishing the job of
binding Tillson’s wounds. Louise
was not there. Sierra slouched to
ward him as he entered. "Pardner,
show me the barbecue pit, will you?
I ain’t et since noon.”
Outside he added less casually, “I
want to talk. Come on.”
Fire had burned to coals in the
pit, and only strings of beef were
left upon the bones hanging there.
Sierra took off a rack of ribs while
Breck found cups and poured cof
fee. They sat together on a log.
Breck drank his first cupful,
poured another, suddenly aware of
nerves beginning to let down.
“Seen Jud and Hep?” Sierra
asked.
“They haven’t been here all day.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I don’t. Neither does Cook.”
Sierra tore two ribs apart and
deftly secured the meat between his
teeth; that finished, he said gravely,
“What do you suppose Art was sash
ayin’ around alone for—actin' plumb
loco that way?”
“He was loco,” Breck answered,
“over a girl, and that explains a
lot. He went out of his head over
this girl I brought up. She made
a fool of him and he came back at
me.” . , A , .
Sierra nodded. “That s about what
I might a-knowed.”
Breck said nothing. Through the
pines he saw figures moving again
about the dance fire. Voices were
lifted to a higher pitch of excite
ment. His eyes went to the cabin
where a light showed in one window.
Presently Sierra expressed Breck’s
own thought. “Well anyway,” he
drawled, “Art won’t cause us no
trouble for a long time.”
Breck nodded. But there were
still the other two.
A breeze stirred the coals into a
burst of flame. Light added distance
to the circle of vision. Breck’s gaze
moved up the slope behind him,
passing slowly through the black
tree trunks. It halted upon one spot.
He stared, half-rising, then suddenly
caught Sierra’s arm.
“Slim!”
Sierra looked. A figure was com
ing down toward them, stumbling,
one hand groping as if in blindness.
Though the face was smudged and
partly covered by long strings of
hair, Breck recognized the boy from
the Potholes.
“It’s Jack Weller,” he said quiet
ly to Sierra. “Something’s wrong.
I’ve seen that look-we mustn’t
frighten him.”
The boy approached with glazed
eyes staring at the fire. His jaw
hung slack. Bloody scratches
showed through torn clothing. One
hand outstretched in front of him
held what had once been a barn
lantern. Now there was left only
the wire bail.
Breck stood up slowly when the
boy came within a few feet, but he
did not speak. The glassy eyes rest
ed upon him, moved off, strayed
back. A tight fist lifted the lantern
bail as if to cast its glow higher.
Gradually his lips parted to form
soundless words. Breck held out
his hand, saying, "Hello, Jack. How
are you?”
The boy hesitated, took a step
nearer, yet no sign of recognition
came into his face.
“Let’s get him some whiskey,”
Sierra advised.
“No,” said Breck. “Wait a min
ute.” He took the boy’s arm and
drew him down to the log, then
spoke in an even, questioning voice,
“Well, Jack, been bear hunting late
ly? Here, I’ll blow out your lan
tern.”
He unclenched the small fist and
went through the action of ex
tinguishing a light. “Cold, isn’t it?
Have some coffee? Bring us a cup
ful, Slim.”
Jack drank in gulps and gasped
one long breath when he finished.
For a moment Breck looked away.
“Pardner, show me the barbecue pit, will you.”
thinking, knowing he must estab
lish some contact in the little fel
low’s mind. It was plain he had
been through a terrible experience,
and then had been fighting through
the woods—no telling how long.
In moving, Breck’s hand touched
the Luger. He pulled it out, turning
it over in his palm as he looked at
Jack.
The boy was staring with the first
sign of sane comprehension. He
reached for the gun. “That . . .
that’s a Luger, ain’t it?” he stam
mered.
“Yes,” said Breck, “it’s a Luger
and holds a lot of shells and I’ye
been a soldier, and now, Jack, is
your father all right?”
The small hand shook convulsive
ly. Words blurted of their own ac
cord. “Pap’s dead! They killed
him. They killed my pap! I seen
’em!” He stopped, startled. Con
tact was made. “Ranger,” he cried,
“I’ve been cornin’ to you. Them
Tillsons killed him!”
“Yes, Jack,” Breck said quietly,
trying to soothe him by putting an
arm about his shoulders. “But may
be you can tell me later."
The boy drew back. “No! I’ve
been funnin’ to get here, ever since
I heard them coyotes a-howlin’ for
pap.”
“All right then. Tell me. What
did the Tillsons do?”
“Came arguin’ about a fire.
Blamed my pap for tellin’. He talked
back and they shot him!”
“Where are they now?”
“The nesters run ’em off to Sul
phur—and they’re goin’ to burn ’em
out.” Jack paused, looking up with
puzzled face. “Is this tonight?”
“Yes, this is tonight.”
“Then they’re doin’ it! Burnin’
them Tillsons!”
Sierra sprang up. “Say!”
“Easy,” Breck warned him. “Get
Kern Peak on the phone.”
Sierra strode off. The boy In
Breck’s arms was fast falling into
a stupor of exhaustion. He lay with
eyes closed, though with the terror
of what he had been through
stamped indelibly upon his old
man’s face. As sleep came, his
voice trailed off faintly. “They left
me watchin’ pap. But them coy
otes . . . a-howlin’ ... I run . . .”
“Kern Peak line is dead,” Sierra
announced, returning from the tele
phone. “Wire’s either cut or in a
fire.”
Breck leaped up. “Take this boy
to Louise. Give me your horse and
I’ll ride to the ridge. Better tell
Cook.”
He was half an hour in climbing
the backbone above Temple Mead
ow, but when he reached the crest,
he halted for only a moment. Far
below, the whole Sulphur Flat was
afire, though actual flames were hid
den by an intermediate canyon wall.
The sky was red for miles above
the lower part of Sulphur Creek.
Breck wheeled and crashed down,
letting his swift descent pass the
word to those below.
Animals were already being sad
died when he burst into camp. Si
erra Slim had brought up Kit, while
Cook packed a mule nearby. He
rode to join them, plunging across
the space that a few minutes earlier
had held a laughing, dancing throng.
“Fire’s in the Sulphur country,”
he told Dad Cook. “I guess the boy
knew what he was talking about.
Nesters have lighted the whole bot
tom.”
Cook nodded, throwing his lash
rope over the mule. Breck caught it,
made the loop, and passed one end
back under the animal’s belly. A
plan had been seething in his mind
ever since he had left the ridge;
suddenly now it became clear.
“Cook,” he asked, “is there any
way the Tillsons can climb out of
their hole to the north?”
“No; Kern Peak blocks them.”
“That means with the fire driving
them up, they’ve got to come out
somewhere to the south and east of
Sulphur Creek?”
Cook came from his side of the
mule. “All right, son, what’s on
your mind?”
“I’ve got the Tillsons’ back door
spotted,” Breck declared. “They
can’t climb to it before daylight—
too rough—and by that time Slim
and I can be there if we go ahead.”
“Then go,” Cook ordered. "I’ll
make up a crew here and meet you
at Indian Rock. Slim knows where
that is.”
Sierra had vanished in the crowd,
leaving Kit tied to a stump. Breck
exchanged horses and was swinging
into his saddle when Senator Suth
erland rushed to him,
“Here, my boy, here,” he cried,
puffing with excitement. “A fire is
it? Great stuff! Everyone going?
Never saw a mountain blaze first
hand. You wait now till I get my
horse!” He dashed on.
“Oh, Gordon!” Again Breck
turned from mounting. Irene was
running toward him. “Gordon,
you’ll saddle for me? Is it a real
fire? I don’t know where my horse
is.”
He lowered his foot to the ground.
“You won’t need your horse. You’re
not going.”
“Absurd! Why am I not?”
Breck waved a gloved hand to
ward Temple's cabin. “Because a
man is in there badly hurt. You
made a drunken maniac out of Till
son. Now how big are you? Some
one has got to keep him up till the
doctor gets here tomorrow. He’ll get
over the gunshot, but he’s the sort
that goes straight to the devil when
a woman takes his pride. Talk to
him, Irene, lie to him, anything to
explain yourself. For God’s sake
that’s one thing you can do!”
He swung to his saddle before she
could reply, and hoped some bit of
Waltzing Mouse Shown in London Zoo;
Breed Once Numerous in America, Japan
A humble, but nevertheless fasci
nating addition to the London zoo
is a “waltzing” mouse, says the
Times of London. To the last gen
eration “waltzing” mice were well
known as children’s pets, and they
are still largely bred by fanciers in
America and Japan, but they have
become scarce in this country. In
fact, when two years ago the zoo
wanted a family of them as zoolog
ical curiosities to illustrate Mende
lian inheritance they were unobtain
able.
“Waltzing” mice are a strain of
common mice possessed of a habit,
often repeated many times a day,
of spinning round and round for per
haps half a minute in a very small
circle. This jo-called waltz is due
to an anatomical defect, the exact
nature of which is still doubtful.
The condition has received a great
deal of attention from biologists,
and the “waltz” has been found to
comprehension would move her to a
decent act. Art might be his ene
my, yet he had come to have some
thing of Louise Temple’s sympathet
ic understanding of him.
He found Sierra roping up a fresh
horse and gave his plan. The moun
taineer listened, said nothing, and
in a few minutes they rode together
out past the clearing, where in the
light of fresh logs more than twenty
men were getting tools for the flre
line. Among them Breck saw Lou
ise.
“Are you going?” he asked, halt
ing at her side.
‘‘Why not? You’ll need all of us.”
A swift admiration filled him. He
was proud of her. Little thorough
bred! Love welled in his heart. Then
fear. But he knew she would scorn
his thought of danger. Tom Temple
hobbled over with a shovel and ax.
‘‘Be right with you, Rangerl”
Breck saluted and loped on to
overtake Sierra. His veins tingled.
There was something military
about this night move—like shock
troops breaking into action.
He led, knowing the route to the
spot where he had once seen Jud
and Hep vanish down Sulphur Creek.
He pushed Kit at a run. It would
be almost daylight anyway by the
time he and Slim could cover the
range from Temple’s camp to the
broken country.
They left the blazed government
trail at the spur where Breck had
come down before, climbed it, and
came at last to the brim that
dropped a thousand feet into cliffs
and falls and unmapped gorges.
Firelight flooded the lower level.
Roar of the blaze rose faintly.
Breck halted. ‘‘You see we’ve
come to sort of a blind trail, Slim. It
dips over the ridge and crosses the
head of Sulphur Canyon. That’s
where we go down. I don’t know
how far.”
Sierra kicked his foot out of one
stirrup. “I’d say we leave the cay
uses here and walk.”
Breck agreed, pulled from the
trail and tied his horse. Then to
gether they walked on. The canyon
was not far. It plunged away steep
ly, with the stream cutting a sharp
banked gorge through the rock.
Their path skirted the brink for two
hundred yards, then curved around
a brush clump. In another turn it
ended against a blank wall.
To the left was the mountain face;
on the right a sheer drop to the
stream. Breck looked down at white
water dashing through boulders.
“What do you make of it?” he
asked.
Sierra did not answer. His head
was tilted sidewise, attention cen
tered above and behind them. “Hear
that?”
Breck listened, yet heard only the
waterfall and roar of fire further
on.
“Nothing, Slim.”
“Maybe not. How about your
trail?”
“We’ve slipped up somewhere.”
“I thought so. It turns to the
right back here.”
Breck faced about dubiously. To
the right meant a straight drop into
the gorge. Sierra took a few steps
and halted. Suddenly he motioned
with his hand. Before them a nar
row rock bridge spanned the chasm
from rim to rim.
Sierra stepped back behind a boul
der and put his pistol on its flat top.
“Pardner," he said softly, "this
looks like our place.”
Breck stood with his gaze sweep
ing up the granite barricade of Kern
Peak. No chance of escape up there.
He was satisfied. For Jud and Hep
it was this way out or none. His
hands tightened. A name flashed
through his thoughts. Jim Cotter.
Dawn came swiftly. With it a
new sound broke the rumble of the
falls. Breck met Sierra’s eyes and
his question was acknowledged with
a look. Horses were climbing along
the far rim of the gorge, having
difficulty in woods where night still
lingered. One stumbled; its shoes
clattered.
(TO HE CONTINUED)
be inherited according to Mendolian
laws as a recessive character.
If they were not selectively bred
the strain would probably soon die
out, for they are more delicate than
ordinary fancy mice, and the fe
males make such poor mothers that
they seldom succeed in rearing their
families. It is curious that the best
dancers are always the piebald
members of a brood.
“Waltzing” mice were first known
in modern times in Japan, but an
ancient reference to them, which
may well be the earliest, is from
China. It is a quotation from the
annals of the Han dynasty, about 80
B. C.: “A yellow mouse was found
dancing with its tail in its mouth in
the gateway of the palace of the
kingdom of Yen. The animal danced
incessantly. The king asked the
queen to feed it with wine and
meat, but this did not interfere with
the performance. It died during the
night.”
INSECTICIDES
BE RID OF ROACHES
Harris Famous Roach Tablets break up
nesting places. Clean, odorless, safe to
use anywhere. Thousands of satisfied cus-*
tomers. Representatives wanted, or ask
your store to write P.JC. HARRIS HFQ.,
407 W. Lombard, Baltimore, Md.
AGENTS
Agents! Wagon Jobbers! Make big money
selling guaranteed first quality men's hose
and anklets! Beautiful Spring-Summer
patternsl Write Hussey Co., Atlanta. (i«.
Juvenile Bedspread
In Simple Crochet
Pattern 6334.
A kiddie would love to own this
spread—and it’s fun for a grown
up to make too! The center panel,
with the children’s prayer and
all the fascinating juvenile figures,
is crocheted in one piece and the
teddy bear border is done in three
pieces—for easy handling. Sim
ple lace stitch sets off the letter
ing. Pattern 6334 contains instruc
tions and charts for making the
spread shown; illustrations of
spread and of stitches; materials
needed.
To obtain this pattern send 15
cents in coins to The Sewing
Circle, Household Arts Dept., 259
W. 14th St., New York, N. Y.
Please write your name, ad
dress and pattern number plainly.
JmJipr KILLS
I'many insects
I ON FLOWERS • FRUITS
I VEGETABLES ft SHRUBS
I Demand original tea led
SfM'l I bottle, > ,rom gour dealer
Talk of a Great Man
A great thing is a great book;
but a greater thing than all is tha
talk of a great man.—Lord
Beaconsfield.
OLD FOLKS
Her* I* Amazing Relief for
Condition* Due to Sluggish Bowel*
vt . J If you think all laxative*
Ihum&lwmCUU •«» «Hke, )ust try tlila
gSsta So rofirt*"thurouK**'
SSIriE. grass jsS w£s
associated with constipation.
DJ-L get a 250 box of NR from your
Without nISK druggist. Make the test then
If not delighted, return the box to Us. We will
refund the purchase
QUICK RELIEF
FOR ACID
INDIGESTION
Love in Common
Those who love the arts are all
fellow-citizens.—Voltaire.
HANDY Nome Uut* [jams'
MOROLINE g
■ ▼■SNOW-WHITE PETROLEUM JELLY ,1
Lost for Credit
He who hath lost his credit is
'dead to the world.
Malaria • Chills • Fever jSgjj
Tib reliable Gridina. Slop! chiOs end //flS&f Of
fever, cleeiu bleed of meleria. Femoul lOHUff Is 'j
lot SO yeen. Money-back guarantee,
IiLIBTPIWI
£<Myes!
You find them announced in
th* columns of this paper by
merchants of our community
who do not feel they must keep
the quality of their merchan
dise or their prices under cover.
It is safe to buy of the mer
chant who ADVERTISES.
