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MUSh.
S .
A Story in the True Alaskan Style
-
By London Service Quincy
I. THEY'RE OFF.
“A thousand miles on a doggone sled
Is nothing at all when the dlood is red.”
USH!"
“ The word ran t
g out on the stfll, cold air of the Skookon
Valley like a pistol shot.
The speaker was a tall man who wore an ermine parka and trousers
made of perfect skins of the silver fox. Beneath his cap of Russian
sable his blue eyes shone as chill and scintillant as the ice of the Skookon
{tself,
“Mush, darn ye, mush!”
At the words a huge husky rose from the snow.
“Atta boy, Tusker,” said the man as the great leader of the dog team
proceeded to whip his 199 mates into line. Biting an ear off this dog, the
tail off that, Tusker quickly had them ready to start,
swtftwater Joe cracked his whip and they were off at fifty-miles an
hour on the 3,017-mile trip to the headwaters of the Porcupink.
There was satisfaction in Swiftwater's look as he glanced at his
team. In all the Yukon he was the only man who could drive 200 dogs
and every one of them he had picked himself. As the sled glided along
the river the dogs suddenly swerved and a roar sounded from the bank.
11. BLOOD!
;A bear s only a fair-sized lunch
0 the son of a gun who packs a g
RRRRRFF! v o
R It was a huge Kodiak bear, weighing, so Swiftwater’s practised
eye told him, about 3,473 or 4 pounds. Joyfully the prospector pre.
pared for the battle, drawing and opening his pocketknife. As the
bear menacingly advanced Swiftwater noticed that its left foreleg was
apparently useless, Probably some hunter had shot it with a highpower
rifle.
Quickly the prospector drove the blade of the knife through his own
left arm, which fell useless by his side. A true son of the White North,
Swiftwater scorned to encounter anything except on even terms.
In two minutes the hide, which measured 27 feet 6 inches from nose
to tail, was on the sled and Swiftwater was again hitting the trail.
Twenty-six hours later the traveler prepared to rest for the night.
His first care was to feed his dogs. He opened a can of sardines and to
each of the huskies he threw a fish, reserving for himself nothing but the
tin, which he crunched in his strong white teeth. Then dogs and man
burrowed into the snow and soon nothing was to be heard but the reports
of the North Pole as it cracked in the rending cold,
. 111. WOLVES!
“The wolf ia out with his hideous howl,
¥ And around he'll prowl like a ghastly ghoul.’*
_®Arctic pronmunciation. %
0000 W-WOW-WOW! »
Louder grew the howl as the great Hudson’s Bay pack swept
down upon the“fittle camp.
With a rush the leader seized Swiftwater Joe by the foot. Coolly
rolling a snowball, the prospector knocked the wolf’s head off with it, and
it took Tusker less than thirty minutes to finish off the remainder of the
pack, between 93 and 94 in number,
IV. GOLD! %
“You can’t show no more speed nor a snail
If you hain't got a good fat dbunch of kale.”
AH! .
A The exclamation was uttered by Swiftwater Joe. ;
Six thousand miles from the nearest trading post, the prospec
tor’s trained eye had spotted a likely placer distriet, and on washing out
his first pan he found sixty twenty-dollar gold pieces in it. Later he
averaged 1,000 double eagles to the hour.
V. HOME.
“The only place to go on a bat in
Is the burg that is known as old Manhattan.”
IX million dollars in gold loaded on his sled, Swiftwater Joe set out
S on his return trip to warmth, comfort, friends and a good time.
fl‘wo hundred below zero was registered by the thermometer he
carried in his pocket. The cold seemed to bite into his very bones, but
the old prospector cheered himself with visions of a hi-yu time on 1l old
Broadway. So he chewed thirty or forty pounds of meat off the hind leg
of a moose he had just caught, and mushed on.
Vi. BROADWAYI
“Oh, it's dbright and gay when the crowd is set,
And the girls all dance in the cabarét.”
RRRR!
B The speaker was indeed Swiftwater Joe. He reclined on & Louis
Sneeze couch in the royal suite of the Gilded Igloo.
Brrrr! he repeated, shivering. He rang a bell. “Garcon,” said our
hero to the servant, “turn on the heat. It's 317 degrees below zero by
my pocket thermometer.”
“Sorry, kid, but it’s coalless Monday. Nix on the heat. Nix on the
Rhooch, too, if you're looking for a drink.”
“But I'm freezing,’ responded the Arctic sour-dough.
“Nothing doing, old timer.”
Lifting stiffly his half-frozen limbs, Swiftwater Joe made his way to
the lobby of the Gilded Igloo and called his dog team. In a moment he
had hitched the huskies to a B. R. T. car, chilled with animal heat, and
was off at 93 miles an hour to the Great Frozen North to get warm.
Unpopular Songs
\
“My War Bride Made Some War Bread.”
By W. F. Kirk. :
ITHIN a crowded hospital, all fitted up in style,
A sick man lay and groaned one day the moments to beguile.
A handsome nurse was standing near, her heart was hard as stone
Discussing with another nurse a play now being shown.
At last the sick man’s loud complaints did bother them so much
That one nurse asked the patient how he came to be in duteh.
The patient raised his face so gray,
And unto that fair nurse did =ay:
REFRAIN:
“My war bride made some War bread
And she gave a slice to me.
I ate it like a hero,
And my present state you see.
: Oh, war is something awful,
But for Europe I'll be booked
Before I'll eat more war bread
3 That my darling war bride cooked!™
11.
Those nurses heard and understood, if you'll belleve this verse,
For they were trained to fodder good like any well trained nurse,
Thelr hearts did swell with pity for that poor, dyspeptic Jake
‘Who somewhere in the city had & bride that couldn’t bake,
But only for a moment this emotion did they show—
Again they started telling what Lucinda said to Joe.
They never looked around again
WWhen he repeated that refrain:
: REFRAIN:
3 “My war bride made some War bread,” ete.
HEARST'S SUNDAY AMERICAN _ A Newspaper for People Who Think — SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 10, 1918.
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SEVEN . Fmas -
Sure to Meet.
MRS. JONES—You know my boy
has just joined the army?
MRS. SMITH—Oh, then I expect
he's met my nephew—he’s in the
army, too!
A Born Commander.
WHEN General Wood was a
small boy he was called up
in the grammar class.
The teacher sald: “Leonard,
give me a sentence and we’ll see if
we can change it to the imperative
mood.”
“The horse draws the cart,” sald
Leonard. y
“Vory good. Now change to an
imperative,”
“Get up!” sald young Wood.
A Dark Secret,
ul WONDER whether daughter
loves that young man or not?
She's got us all guessing.”
“Seems to be even keeping him
in the dark,” suggested dad, who
had noticed that the gas in the par
lor was turned very low.
A Chemical Change.
T‘HE professor was showing a
friend round his chemical
laboratory. ‘“What has become of
Jim Fillbottle?” the friend asked.
“Wasen't he studying with the class
last year?”
“Ah, yes,” replied the professor,
“Fillbottle, poor fellow! A fine
Krazy Kat
Krazy Kat and Ignatz Mouse Appear Every Day on The Georgian’'s Comic Page
student, but absent-minded in the
use of chemicals—very. That slight
discoloration on the ceiling—notice
ier
e
“That’s Fillbottle.”
A Shakespearian Blunder.
¢ think a fine lot of Shakes
‘YEpeure %
“I do, sir,” was the reply.
“An’ ye think he was mair clever
than Rabbie Burns?”
“Why, there’s no comparison be
tween them.”
“Maybe, no; but ye tell us it was
Shakespeare who wrote ‘Uneasy
lies the head that wears a crown.’
Now, Rabbie wounld never hae sic
nonsense as that.”
“Nonsense, sir!” thundered the
other.
“Ay, Jjust nonsense. Rabble
would hae kent fine that a king or
queen efither disna ganga to bed wi’
a croon on their head. He'd hae
kent they hang it over the back o’
a chair.”
In the Pen.
““rHAT is the name of that
handsome prisoner?” asked
the impressionable young woman.
“No. 2206, miss,” replied the
guard.
“How funny. But, of course, that
is not his real name.”
“Oh, no, miss, that's just his pen
namse.,”
Heard About Town
Fifty-Fifty.
A MAN went to Louisiana on a
visit to a certain colonel there.
It was bedtime when he arrived at
the house, and as it happened that
there were no mosquito-curtains to
his bed, he suffered severely all
night long.. When the following
morning the negro servant came in
to the room with water and towels,
the unhappy victim asked why there
were no mosquito-curtains in the
room.
“Doesn’t the colonel have any ia
his rooms?”’ he finally inquired.
““No, suh,” replied the negro.
“Well, how on earth can he stand
it?” sald the visitor,
“Well, suh,” came the reply, "I
reckon it's jes dis way. In de fo’
part ob de night de colonel’s mos’
gen’ly so 'toxicated dat he don’ pay
no 'tention to de skeeters; an’ in de
las’ part ob de night de skeeters is
gen'ly so ’'toxicated dat dey don’
pay no 'tention to de colonel.”
Only Fair.
“l THINK, dear,” said Mrs.
Grabbit, “I'll ask those new
people next door to sghare our
Christmas dinner.”
“What for?” asked her husband.
“Well, the man left their turkey
here by mistake, and I think it
seems only fair.”
Modest.
T‘Hm blushing bride was very
L newly wed and very shy, and
, JOHN Flneene
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very modest. However, It was es
sential to get something for dinner,
and she braced herself up to the
extent of invading the local butch
er's shop for the first time.
“What would you ke, madam?”
inquired the obliging tradesman.
Ah! Here came the difficulty.
She knew—but how could she say?
“1 think,” she faltered at last,
“you might send me—er—a nice
Hmb of lamb.”
Pretty Bad, This.
“A WOMAN came Into the hos
pital the other day and she
was 80 cross-eyed that the tears
ran down her back.
“You couldn’t do anything for
her, could you?”
“Yes, indeed; we treated her for
bacteria.”
Put It Over on Him.
THE lady was the owner of a small
shop, and her squire acquired
the habit of seeing her home, and
carrying the cash bag that con
tained the day’s takings. It was
generally heavy.
“You must be doin’ weel,” re
marked the gentleman frequently.
“Oh, aye,” the lady would reply,
“it's a guid bit business.” But she
did not disclose that besides the
moderate drawings the bag con
tained the counter weights, The
canny lover only discovered that
fact after marriage,
By Herriman
Wanted Them Both.,
TOMMY had come home for a few
days’ leave at Christmas, and
his fond mother, who was keeping
on the farm in his absence, asked
him if he'd like her to kill a goose
or a turkey for his dinner.
“The turkey,” sald Tommy,
dreamily.
“What would you like {t stuffed
with, son?” said his mother,
Tommy’'s eyes sparkled.
“Say, mother,” he said, “what’d
you say to stuffing it with the
goose?”
His Own Fault.
“SIR. your daughter has promised
to become my wife.”
“Well, don’t come to me for sym
pathy; you might know something
would happen to you, hanging round
here five nights a week.”
_— '&"q“,_’
Indorsement,
ul WANT to get this check
cashed,” said the young wife
to the paying tellar at the bank.
“Yes, madam; you must indorse
it, though.”
“Why, my husband sent it to me.
He {3 away on business.”
“Yes, madam. But just indorse
it. Sign it on the back, please, and
your husband will know we paid it
to you.”
She went back to the desk and in
a couple of minutes came back with
the check indorsed: )
*Your loving wife, Edith.,” |
A Naughty
Story
By Lewis Allen Browne.
STELLE GREGORY poalen‘l‘
E starry eyes. There's no
denying it, nor any reason for
denying it. Her baby stare' was
the envy of every woman who' saw
her~-who cen read the mind ‘&
woman so quickly and so thorough:
ly as another woman?
John Langford was by no means
the first of his sex to be lured By
Eistelle’s starry eyes, but he vh
somewhat different from the others
in that whatever he beheld and
longed for he sought to pos.l‘?gl
with all the powers of his m;rg
masculinity, o
The first time he was alone with
her he told her that he loved‘hek.
Estelle drew her deep-frin:ed'by'o
lid shades down over her sfii’l"y
eyes at this. In truth, she was fiot
abashed, nor did she murmur any
protest or make that sweet, femi
nine inarticulate sound deep down
in her throat. ounk
Some people seem to fit imto
each other’s lives at the very+findt
meeting quite as though they hdd
always belonged one to the othes.
Estelle Gregory and John Langford
were of this sort. Upon everyvm
sible occaslon they were tosefi\tgg.
There was no attempt at ucrg .
Love cannot be camouflagedv%
they evidently knew it. ;
According to all the Marquis of
Queensbury rules, as revised and
laid down by a Perfectly Moral
Cupid, man cannot go on forever
telling a woman that he lovu"fli}
without some mention of his {Afßh
tions—that is, he cannot and obey
these rules. But Morality played
no part in John Langford's. life.
Consequently, he did not mentien
matrimony.
Many would have wondered at
this. Estelle did not. John loved
her. He sald so. He was very
good to her. Hstelle loved John
I and took no pains to conceal it. In
fact, she had happily, perhdps
' brazenly, admitted it to him.
I Now, John Langford had two es
| tablishments. The place he called
“home” and another. Plainly he
could not take Hstelle to his home,
nor did Estelle expect it. In truth,
she much preferred his other es
tablishment and thither she went
with him. Time, violating no pre
cedent, went on. Hstelle was qnlzo
happy. On bright days she even
ventured forth, unabashed, for all
the world to see, with little Jack
and little Stella. She delighted in
the household duties. John Lang
ford never found the tea-table.un
tidy or the place uninviting. To
give him full credit, he thoroughly
enjoyed it all.
Yet—l warned you that this was
a naughty story—John Langford
had never mentioned matrimony to
Estelle Gregory. To quote ‘tr’el'n
any melodrama, “She wore no wed
ding ring!” To point a mofl);d‘-‘l
should picture a bitter, unhappy,
tragic ending to this affair, But
this 18 a true story and, unfortus
nately, true naughty stories do not
always end unhappily. :
But the end came finally. Thers
{8 no record of any affair, moral or
otherwise, that did not end -ultl
mately. One day, it was at the epd
of Bummer, Estelle had to pack up
her tea set and her dolls and go
back to the city with her mdmv“.
leaving John Langford and his pll'z
house lin the orchard quite 10%.1
gsome and forlorn! e
All Bull and a
Column Wide
s 0
By Roy K. Moulton
The French think they beat the
world in camouflage, but they
haven't got a thing on Kangas,
where, in some cases, it reaches to
the waist. Fewer neckties are sold
in Kansas than in any other Sq‘r
in the Union, -
A Note from France., =°'l
The socks that you have knit for
me, dear heart, e
Look like a string of battle ‘fla.q‘
to me.
Each knot a knit,
A string of purls,
Would that they fit et
My hosiery. ?
Congress i{s about to pass a bill
making idleness a crime.—~News
Item.
Will some of our perfumed Broad
way strollers be arrested for:fraw
grancy?
We must be growing old. We
can remember when there was &
Bull Moose pmyl_. A EHy BN