Newspaper Page Text
Unci' Pktl^
Says:
And Criticism, Too
When you don’t know much
pbout music, let someone else
start the applause.
Skepticism sometimes saves a
man from being everybody's fool.
It takes a good deal of wit to
perpetrate effective ridicule.
Beyond Estimation
About the weakest of statistics
are those that purport to state
what crime costs the country per
capita.
Occasionally we meet a man
who asks for only half a chance,
but the majority prefer the
chances whole.
One born lazy is generally hap
pily bom without cupidity.
Play the Game
Don’t ask, “Is life worth liv
ing?” You have been dealt the
cards.
The man who wants to be
good has less opportunity than
the man who wants to be great.
A worm may turn, but a sheep
never will.
Perhaps the Darky*s
Ducks Were Storks
A salesman was rattling along a
country road in Tennessee, when
he came to a ford. A Negro was
standing by the little stream
where some ducks were swim
ming. The salesman said: “Can
I get through the creek with this
car all right?’’
“Yes, suh, drive right through.”
The salesman, thus encouraged,
drove into the stream, only to find
Jthat the water was so deep that it
flooded his engine.
The salesman turned and said:
“What do you mean by telling me
that I could drive through?”
“Well, boss, I never knew dat
water was so deep. It only comes
half-way up on my ducks!”
KU MB
BJUOUSNESS
Have you noticed that In hot
Weather your digestion and elimina
tion seem to become torpid or lazy?
Your food sours, forms gas, causes
belching, heartburn, and a feeling
of restlessness and irritability. Your
tongue may be coated, your com
plexion bilious, and your bowel
action sluggish or insufficient
These are some of the symptoms
of biliousness or so-called “Torpid
14’ er," so prevalent In hot climates.
They call for calomel, or better still,
Calotabs, the nausealess calomel
compound tablets that make calo
mel-taking a pleasure.
Calotabs give you the effects of
calomel and salts combined, helping
Nature to expel the sour, stagnant
bile and washing it out of the
system. One or two Calotabs at bed
time with a glass of water,—that’s
all. Next morning your system feels
clean and refreshed, your head is
clear, your spirit bright, and you are
feeling fine with a hearty appetite
for breakfast. Eat what you wish
and go about your work or pleasure.
Genuine Calotabs are sold only In
checker-board (black and white) pack
ages bearing the trade mark “Calotabs."
Refuse imitations. Trial package only
ten cents; family package twenty-five
cents, at your dealer's (Adv.)
— ;—
Impressive Thorn
One thorn of experience is worth
a whole wilderness of warning.—
Lowell.
UIUV with
WH| MALARIA
and COLDS when
RAR check malaria fast
UUU gives symptomatic cold relief.
UQUID. TABLETS. SALVE, NOSE DROPS
Self-Inflicted Pain
He who fear* to suffer, suffere
from fear.
at Cm
•tohi JI
LA**
»wtniJHmsH 5. r a i n I
lI.SO
WATCH
VOU coxi depend on ths
“ special salsa ths
merchant* of our town
announce in ths columns
of this paper. They mean
money saving to our
readers. It always pays to
patronize ths merchants
who advertise. They are
not afraid of their mer
chandise or their prices.
A A
THE SPECIALS
CHAPTER XlX—Continued
—lß—
— sprang up, shot by the sug
gestion of Irene’s words. “What did
Art say? Anything about a fire?”
“It might have been that,” she ad
mitted.
“Tonight?”
“He said later he had some im
portant business.” Irene sighed.
"Please don’t make me use my
brain. It’s tired.”
Breck looked down into her face.
It was wholly innocent of any defi
nite knowledge. No doubt Art had
bragged in vague terms; nothing
she might repeat.
“Irene,” he asked, “did Tillson
give any names? Or places, or peo
ple?”
She turned imploring eyes to him.
“Must I think?”
“Enough to remember what you
were talking about. Was any moun
tain or meadow brought up?”
Irene counted on her fingers. “I
slept well last night and remarked
Un it. He said something about
Keeping too. Then we talked some
more. Then he bragged about know
ing so much. He said if I would
look at the sky tonight over—is there
a sleeping mountain?”
“Sleeping Beauty,” Breck urged.
Irene shook her head with a little
scowl. “I really don’t know. Where
are you going?”
Breck had untied Kit. Now he
said quickly, “Promise me you’ll say
nothing about this.”
"Have I told you something?”
“Perhaps. Promise me.”
“I’ll not talk,” Irene promised.
He strode on to the telephone,
dropped Kit’s reins, and rang head
quarters. Cook answered.
“Dad,” Breck asked, “is Slim
there? No, don't call him. Tell him
to take the trail and meet me half
way. I’ve got some letters that
must go out.”
“It’s sort of late in the afternoon,”
Cook began.
“They’re important!” Breck cut
in. He could not trust the Wire. Too
much chance of his word being in
tercepted from one of the patrol in
struments.
A pause told that his meaning had
gotten across.
"All right,” Cook finished briefly
and hung up.
Breck strapped on his gun and
put an ax in the saddle scabbard.
The whole thing might be a false
clue; yet he read Art Tillson. The
boy would boast to make himself
big before Irene. After ell, he had
told nothing she could understand.
Sleeping Beauty mountain came
into sight as he topped q rise in the
trail some distance beyond Rock
House. It rose on the eastern rim
of the range, a high, barren crest
sculptured in the form of a woman
reclining. The peak was above tim
berline, but the wooded lower slope
offered dangerous fire country.
South of the mountain were the Pot
holes, and putting these conditions
together, Breck formed tentative
plans. They could be completed
when he met Sierra Slim.
As he rode, his body grew tense,
for that was the mood of the forest,
and he strained to catch all sounds
beyond the limit of his vision. Kit,
too, listened, and it was he who
stopped abruptly without command
when they were still an hour from
the summit.
Breck rose in his stirrups, motion
less until there came a faint thud
ahead. Then he wheeled suddenly
from the trail. Halting off in a lane
of trunks, he sat waiting with his
eyes upon a patch of light where
that other rider must pass.
CHAPTER XX
In a short time the sharp ring of
shoes on rock that had first warned
him, came again, then broke into
the rapid thud of a horse running
up the dim path. Kit raised his
head. Instantly Breck gripped his
nostrils, silencing him.
The sound approached in a reck
less rush, with no attempt by the
rider to move quietly. In a flash
the other animal appeared in the
lane where Breck watched, and
glimpsing it he relaxed in his sad
dle. It was Sierra’s patch horse;
at the same time the lank figure
was unmistakable.
Whirling Kit, Breck called,
"Slim!”
Sierra halted. “You, pardner?
Come ahead.”
Breck moved back to the trail
and stopped at the other man’s side.
“What’s up?” he asked. “Running
from someone?”
“Not any,” Sierra grinned. "I
was makin’ that runkus so's you
could bear me. Thought you’d be
•bout this fai."
BAKER COUNTY NEWS
Without going into details as to
the source of his information, Breck
told what he had learned. “The
best way I can figure it,” he fin
ished, “is for me to go up Sleeping
Beauty and lay for the fire-bug,
while you watch the trail where the
Tillsons will come out of Sulphur
Creek. I have a hunch where that
is.”
Sierra wagged his head thought
fully. “That might be the way to
do it. Looks like the Tillson outfit
is figurin’ to use Quakin’ Asp trail
down the valley. But you and me
had better stick together. Jud won’t
move till the fire’s big and all us
rangers is onto it. Looks like our
play is to pick up the gentleman on
Sleepin’ Beauty first and see the
color of his eyes. We might make
him tell somethin’. How about it?”
“I guess you’re right," agreed
Breck. .
“That’s a big country over there,”
Sierra added. “One man alone could
hardly watch it. Now let’s do a
little figurin’. A good place for fire
is on the southwest side of the moun
tain. The nesters are just south of
that. Wouldn’t you say whoever’s
doin’ the job would strike for the
Potholes afterwards?” •
“I thought so,” said Breck. “They
wouldn’t want to meet me coming
from Rock House, nor you and Cook
from headquarters. That leaves
their way open to the south.”
Abruptly Slim wheeled his horse.
“Then let’s move. It’s gettin’ dark
and too shut up in here.”
They went on, riding at a walk
into the canyon mouth. “This will
do,” Sierra said at last. “I’ll climb
up to the left bank, you take the
right. Don’t go far on top—just set
there and watch.”
Breck turned Kit up the slope,
moved for a time in the blackness
of trees, but emerged again into
starlight when he reached the back
bone. There he halted in the shad
ow of a pine snag with his face to
ward Sleeping Beauty. From this
position the crest lost its human
form, and his gaze swept over a
high, dark mass of woods, broken
only by the line of rock upon which
he waited.
He glanced at his watch. Nine
thirty. Full night had come. It
seemed if a fire were to be started,
now was the time. As minutes
passed and no flare shot through the
black slope, he began to doubt his
judgment. Kit grew restless and
struck the rock with his forefeet.
“Easy boy,” Breck soothed him,
“you’re not the only one.”
Almost as he spoke, a yellow point
of light came before his eyes. For
an instant it failed to arouse him.
It seemed nothing. Then abruptly
he knew it was the fire, far up, hid
den in the pines. Silence of the for
est lay unbroken. He sat listening.
There was no sound of flame. It
was perhaps five minutes that he
waited.
The clatter burst suddenly; some
one was riding down the backbone,
leaping a sure-footed horse over the
rubble of rock. Breck remained be
hind his snag until the figure was
within gun range, the moving Kit
only a step, shouted, “Halt there!
Hands up!”
Speed of approach was not slack
ened. A spurt of flame darted to
ward him. He answered with three
shots from the Luger, aimed high;
a fourth he put close to the man’s
side. A sharp oath burst out.
“Then halt!” Breck ordered.
Now the rider was plainly visible
up the ridge. He had obeyed, bring
ing his horse to a stand. Breck ad
vanced, saying again, “Hands up,
there.”
Response was slow. Breck was
within a few feet when at last two
arms started up. Suddenly in the
movement one was flung out. A
heavy gun grazed Breck’s cheek. He
dodged and the next instant swung a
left-handed blow against the fellow’s
jaw. The man toppled from his sad
dle. His horse, freed, plunged on
down the ridge.
It was done in a minute. Breck
leaped to the ground and with the
Luger in his prisoner’s face, ordered
him to his feet. Then with a length
of tie rope, he bound his arms.
Neither spoke.
From across the canyon came
sounds of a horse scrambling down
ward. For a time the animal was
lost in the bottom, but present burst
through a brush patch.
“All right. Slim,” Breck called.
“Over here.”
Sierra rode up. “By the kiss of
Judas!” he exclaimed, bending
down to look at the prisoner.
“Do you know this fellow ” Breck
asked.
“Hell yes! Worked trail for us one
year. Got himself fired for stealin'
dynamite and sellin’ it. After that
he turned nester. Hard to tell what
he is now.” Sierra shifted tn his sad
dle. “Tillson pay you right well
for this job, Cowan?”
The man looked up sullenly from
a black-bearded face, but said noth
ing.
Breck swung to his horse. “We’d
better hit that fire, Slim, before it
gets away from us.”
“Right, pardner.” Sierra jerked a
thumb toward the one afoot. “Bring
him along. If he don't run fast
enough, drag him.”
They climbed the ridge, with
Breck leading his captive on a rope.
The fire was in brush, yet had not
had time to eat far, and they cir
cled it at once, Breck chopping a
line with his ax, Sierra shoveling
earth onto the flames. In half an
hour it could be left to burn itself
out.
Returning to where he had left Kit
and the man, both tied to a tree,
Breck mounted immediately, then
gave his prisoner over to Sierra.
“He’s all yours, Slim. Which way
do you go from here? I’m dropping
down to Temple where I can call
Cook.”
“Me, I’ll head straight north,” Si
erra answered. “Just you sleep light
from now on.”
That was his casual farewell.
It was past one o’clock in the
morning when Breck reached Tem
ple’s cow camp. He rode through a
meadow with cattle lying in dark
blobs on slivery, dew-laden grass,
then came to the corrals, and con
tinued beyond them, purposely
avoiding the two cabins as he ap
proached the forest service tele
phone. So .far he had aroused no
sign of life. He hoped to put in his
call without waking Temple and
Louise.
But as he cranked four rings and
stood waiting, one cabin door opened
and the old man peered out. Temple
had not stopped to dress, but was
prepared with a rifle across the
bend in his arm. Breck turned away
as headquarters answered.
“Hello, Cook,” he said, and let
the sound of his voice give identity.
Nor in the brief report did he tell
his location. “All OK,” he offered
tersely. “Slim is bringing back my
mail.”
The line became silent. Then:
“Good enough. I’ll call you later.”
Breck closed the iron box. Tom
Temple had drawn on his boots and
breeches and stood a short distance
from his cabin. Breck motioned
with one arm, saying as the man
approached, “Sorry to get you up.
Those bells do sound loud at night.”
“No matter,” Temple asserted, “I
heard you before you rang. Thought
maybe someone was looking over
my horses.” He pointed his rifle to
ward the corral. “Got some good
stuff in there tonight; JG sent ’em
over for the rodeo.”
Temple shivered. “Gettin’ cold
out here. Will you put up, Ranger?”
“Thanks, but I’ve got to go on.”
Breck swung into his saddle, and
then, riding away from camp, cast
a swift glance backward.
Curtains at one window of the
other cabin moved slightly. It
might have been the wind.
In the first light of dawn he came
again into the bowl of Rock House,
for he had pushed Kit rapidly, cal
culating that Sierra would reach
headquarters about the same time
he returned to his own station. Cook
would then call him at once.
His deduction was right. The tele
phone rang shortly after he had un
saddled.
“I’m coming over,” was the
whole of Cook’s message.
That meant four hours in which
Breck could sleep; and he suddenly
felt the need of it. A few minutes
later, when he lay fully dressed
upon his bunk, Sierra Slim’s part
ing words came back, and he
dropped into the shadows with the
Words ‘Debonair,’ ‘Quality,’ Among Some
That Have Passed Along With Macassar Oil
The word, “debonair,” was once
very debonair. Sixty years ago, or
so, it was made to do heavy duty,
properly and otherwise. But styles
change and words change with
them. And today, we hesitate to say
“debonair” even when that is the
only word, observes a writer in the
Washington Post.
In the late 1860 s and early 1870 s
a few old gentlemen, who had been
debonair in their younger days, still
wore blue swallow-tail coats with
large silver buttons and adorned
their necks with stocks. That style
had been debonair once; in the six
ties it was in use only by age, digni
ty and quality.
And here’s another excellent word
that has gone into the discard,
“quality." "The quality” meant
those of entrenched social position.
Socialite is not quite the same
thing; it is something lighter, fluf
fier, more evanescent; and is not al
ways quite debonair.
About the time gentlemen wore
swallow-tails in daylight—and some
times sported flowered waistcoats—
they also used Macassar oil on their
hair and parted it in the back as
well as in the front, so that when
they wore “white chokers,” it was
difficult for a near-sighted person to
tell whether they were coming or
going.
The young men of that period
were quite debonair; they affected
more modem raiment and per
fumed themselves with eau de co
logne, bay rum and Florida water.
As far as nature permitted they cul
tivated curly hair, flowing locks of
the Byronic type, and burnsides.
But. whether they were young or
Luger on a wall peg near his head.
It seemed his hand was still on
the gun, placing it, when the thud
of a horse aroused him. Instantly
he swung his legs from the bunk.
An animal had come up to the tie
rack beyond the cabin window. Then
he saw Dad Cook.
The door opened and the ranger
came in, throwing down his saddle
bags and giving his hat a fling to
ward the table. “Howdy, son. Get
ting a little shut-eye? Guess you
need it. Pretty good job of work
you did last night.”
Breck stood up, thoroughly awake
now, and curious.
“What’s our next move?” he
asked.
“Ain’t ours; it’s theirs.” Cook
dropped onto a bench.
Breck returned to the edge of his
bunk. “What do you mean?”
“A man in Jud Tillson’s busi
ness,” Cook explained, “can’t have
his plans go wrong more than once.
You jumped onto his fire and took
a prisoner. Jud’s going to find out
how come you knew all that before
he does another thing. He’s going
to settle with someone and that
means getting out in the open.”
“Won’t he settle things in his own
camp first?” Breck asked.
The ranger’s gray brows knitted
sharply. “You don’t say a Tillson
talked?”
Breck nodded. “Art and a girl.”
“Well by God!” Cook paused; sur
veyed his boot toes, then looked up
with a slow smile. “Don’t that beat
hell. I never thought that was how
you come to find out.”
“Don’t mistake Art,” Breck ad
vised him. “He probably doesn’t
know he told, and the girl is ig
norant of it. I put things together
and took a chance.”
“And it worked,” the ranger fin
ished, “that’s all we care about.
What I said first still goes. Jud is
bound to come out of his hole now.
He may light on you. That’s why
I’m here — we’ll go double for
awhile.”
“Where’s Slim?” Breck asked.
“Gone to Lone Tree with your
prisoner. He’ll bring a couple of
good men back and meet us at Tem
ple’s rodeo, tomorrow. I’m guess
ing some more, but I don’t think
I’m far off. That gathering over
there will be a good place to start
trouble. In this country lots of par
ties end up in shooting. Women
make dam’ fine excuses for gun
play. Tillson may add to his gang
for this special occasion. On our
side there’ll be me, and Sierra, and
the two he’s bringing along; and
you’ll be the center of interest. How
do you feel about that?”
Breck shrugged.
Cook smoked in silence. Present
ly he stood up. “Is your Senator
friend around? I’d like to spend the
afternoon getting acquainted.” A
quizzical smile spread over his
leathered face. “And I’d sure ad
mire to meet the girl that could
make a Tillson talk!” %
CHAPTER XXI
In matters of rodeo entertain
ment, Tom Temple was no short
horn. He knew the fundamentals,
plenty of action and plenty to eat—
and how to supply them. This was
his day.
About noon Breck came over the
ridge trail and halted his party
where they could look down on the
cattleman’s meadow. The scene had
changed miraculously. The camp
that had always been a quiet, se
cluded spot, now swarmed with life;
horses filled the corrals and were
• tied among the trees; men and girls
moved in front of the cabins; smoke
rose from barbecue pits in a clear
ing close to the stream; and the
forest echoed with shouts, talk and
laughter.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
old, Macassar oil was frequently
present; and always suspected.
Now, Macassar oil, even a touch
of it, would soil upholstery; and,
while gentlemen were not supposed
to 101 l or lounge in the presence of
ladies, they did laugh and some
times threw their heads back touch
ing the back of the chair or sofa.
And, thereupon, arose the neces
sity for the anti-Macassar; which
was a device for protecting the fine
damask, satin, or silk-rep with
which the furniture was up
holstered. This anti-Macassar, or
to speak plainly, tidy, was a bit of
crocheted work, always white
pinned to the chair or sofa at a
point where the head would most
likely touch. But it has gone.
The Early Americans
From data accumulated, archeol
ogists are of the opinion that, long
ages ago, the Americas were at
least partly populated by a race of
Caucasian stock that came from
Polynesia and other parts of south
eastern Asia and found its way to
the western coast of South America
byway of the Caroline islands and
Easter island. The sun circles and
dolmens built by these white men
in Peru closely resemble prehistoric
examples in central Asia, Europe
and England. The hair of the oldest
mummies left by their descendants
is yellow and red and very fine
much different from that of the Ax
tecs and other early inhabitants. It
is also known that they used iron
tools and were highly skilled in
masonry, using building methods
and architectural design found fa
Asia and Europe
Home Sewn Aids
To Summer Beauty
ADD variety and color, as well
** as smartness, to your sum
mer wardrobe by making the
charming accessory set in gay
printed cottons like linen, pique or
gingham. It’s very easy to do—
even the gloves, which have the
new, roomy, blunt fingers. Your
jpattern (1643), includes a step-by
step sew chart that tells you ex
actly what to do.
This princess dress for after
noons is exactly what you want
for hot summer days. This style
(1752) is refreshingly simple, and
it has a beautifully smooth, slim
figure-line, upped sleeves, and a
K T 7 b nasi
771" di
Iw f Wh
|w« B.M
rfi I J’i ri MV
A
K 43 I \ | |j
a IL*
square neckline dipped in the
front to make it more becoming.
The frills at the neckline, sleeve
edges and foot of the skirt, make
this dress very feminine and flow
er-like. And it’s so easy! The
dress itself practically puts itself
together, and the frills can be
sewn in, in no time! Linen, voile,
silk print organdy or flat crepe
are pretty materials for this.
The Patterns.
No. 1643 is designed for sizes 14,
16, 18, 20, 40 and 42. Size 16 re
quires 2% yards of 36-inch mate
rial for jacket; % yard for gloves,
and Vs yard contrast; 1% yards
for scarf; % yard for bag.
No. 1752 is designed for sizes 12,
14, 16, 18 and 20. Size 14 takes 4%
yards of 39-inch material; 4%
yards of pleating or ruffling.
New Spring-Summer Pattern Book
Send 15 cents for Barbara Bell’s
Spring - Summer Pattern Book!
Make smart new frocks for street,
daytime and afternoon, with these
simple, carefully planned designs!
It’s chic, it’s easy, it’s economical,
to sew your own. Each pattern
includes a step-by-step sew chart
to guide beginners.
Send your order to The Sewing
Circle Pattern Dept., Room 1324,
211 W. Wacker Dr., Chicago, HL
Price of patterns, 15 cents (in
coins) each.
To Find Our Duty
This truth comes to us more
and more the longer we live that
on what field or in what uniform
or with what aims we do our duty
matters little, or even what our
duty is, great or small, splendid
or obscure. Only to find our duty
certainly, and somewhere, some
how, to do it faithfully, makes us
good, strong, happy and useful.
NERVOUS?
Do you feel ao nervoue you went to scream?
Are you erose and irritable? Do you scold
those dearest to you?
If your nerves are on edge and you feel
you need a good general system tonic, try
Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound,
made uptcially for women.
For over 60 years one woman has told an
other how to go "smiling thru” with reliable
Pinkham’s Compound. It helps nature build
up more physical resistance and thus helps
calm quivering nerves and lessen discomforts
from annoying symptoms which often ac
company female functional disorders.
Why not give it a chance to help YOU?
Over one million women have written in
reporting wonderful benefits from Pinkham's
Compound.
Too Many Fools
Two fools in a house are too
many by a couple.
Pat just "2 drops” fa
I yill-l^llHH each nostril for quick
■SttfTffliCa relief from Spring
l^nlHdlllliß head cold discomforts.
PENETROL
Aping Wisdom
Cunning is to wisdom as an ape
to a man.
Malaria • Chills • Fever
Tale rambla Oridina. Slop. chUh and
farar, daam blood of malaria. Famous Ilgm-lS
for 50 yean. Moaaybad guarantee,
MERCHANDISE
I Must Be GOOD
to be
Consistently Advertised J
BUY ADVERTISED GOODS)