I
RICHARD HOFFMANN'
COPYRIGHT »Y RICHARD HOFFMANN
SYNOPSIS
Following; his father's bitter criti
cism of his Idle life, and the notifi
cation that he need not expect any
immediate financial assistance, Hal
Ireland, only son of a wealthy bank
er, finds himself practically without
funds but with the promise of a sit
uation in San Francisco, which city
he must reach, from New York,
within a definite time fiinit. He takes
passage with a cross-country auto
party on a “share expense" basis.
CHAPTER II—Continued
—2—
"Nothin’,” said Miller, grinning.
‘‘Well, where’s everybody else?"
“In the office, I reckon.’’
“How about loading ’em in and
starting?’’
Miller chuckled again. “Guess we
might’s well.’’
Hal leaned against a pillar of
the garage—hands in side pockets,
quick, sure eyes brooding, mouth
moodily set between the lean lines
of his cheeks—and watched them
tile in, his “companions” for an
eight-day July ride through coun
try which he vaguely conceived as
the flat, dusty setting for midwest
ern novels.
First rame Mr. and Mrs. Pul
sipher—she almost scuttling, like a
brood hen who knows that In an
other moment panic will be at her
heels, and he following close with
lanky bewilderment and the short
steps of someone being pushed from
behind. They hurried Into the back
seat
Then came the nun, who had sat
cool and unmoved all the time In
a corner of the office, her tranquil
face patient, faintly sad, and im
maculate as Its tight white fram
ing. And then came Miller, stuff
ing soiled money into his soiled
wallet; and then Martin Crack,
looking like an ambitionless, easily
pleased countryman except for the
special tidiness of his thinning hair
and the lazy speculation under his
blue eyes. After him came the girl,
and Hal realized that, without
knowing It, he had been waiting to
see her walk. It had the grace that
comes from unconsciousness of ef
fect, the charm that Is near awk
wardness, like the walk of a long
legged boy, suggestive of inquiry, of
expectance.
You can still go to the devil, Hal
thought, but If you walk to him
that way, I shall watch you with
admiration.
But he wished Crack hadn’t said
that about broad shoulders and slim
ankles.
"The ladies usually starts off In
back,” Miller said, and waited for
Pulsipher to lunge forward abrupt
ly and abandon his Injured wife.
The nun got In and the girl. The
dog wasn’t so keen about the idea,
and he growled ominously as Crack
stooped to help him. And then Hal
saw that another man had come—
a bulky, ruddy, tough-cheeked man
of perhaps fifty, In a pepper-and
salt suit, no waistcoat, gay bow tie,
and panama hat.
Miller surveyed Dim with a half
smile in his sleepiness and said,
“You’re biggest: you better get in
front." And he added a drowsy
“Hey” for Hal.
Crack got Into the farther Jump
seat. Pulsipher took the Invention
next him, and Hal cramped him
self in last. There was a slamming
of doors, and the oppression of the
eight days ahead, crowded among
these dull and mutually distasteful
strangers, was shut Into the close,
dusty-mohalr atmosphere.
Score for the first speech of the
trip went to Mrs. Pulsipher; time:
ten minutes. Passing the long,
stone-faced docks with sunlit masts
and flags and funnels visible over
them, she suddenly announced,
“That's where the boat goes to Eu
rope.”
The burly man in the front seat
turned slowly and suspiciously
round, a fresh but unheeded clga
rette puffing and Joggling at the side
of his lips as he said, “Which boat,
ma'am?”
4 “All the boats—to Europe," said
Mrs. Pulsipher, her manner imply
ing she hadn’t been speaking to
him.
The man edged himself sidewise,
with his arm along the back of the
seat, and looked at her with a
scholar’s potential respect.
“You’ve been to Europe," he
stated.
“No," said Mrs. Pulsipher severe
ly. “But we've been in New York
k two weeks and my son-in-law from
T Bridgeport showed us all over and
showed us where the boat goes to
Europe. This is where it goes
from "
“1 believe you, mam,” said the
man, his deep voice quiet and re
spectful. “It’s very interesting. My
name is Kerrigan—Giles Kerrigan,
f am looking forward to this Jour
ney. bul I Judge we re mostly stran
gers. Let us have introductions."
His unsmiling look continued past
Hal in the direction of Mrs. Pulsi
pher.
“Mrs. Ella Pulsipher," she said,
less severely; "and that’s John
Pulsipher, my husband."
"You’re from Iowa, mam,” said
Kerrigan.
"Yes," said Mrs. Pulsipher, in
terested hevond distrust now.
“Burbank. How did you guess?"
"Los Angeles is tile capital of
Iowa, mam," said Kerrigan solemn
ly, "and 1 was told this crate—this
car was going there." Hal thought
the man’s probably a nut. Kerrigan
went on: "I vote for yon for chap
eron of this emigration, Mrs. P.
Will you get ns the names of the
other ladies?"
There was a moment of silence
and then a very soft, careful, faint
ly foreign voice behind Hal said.
“I am Sister Anastasia." It was
surprisingly beautiful to hear her
say "Ahna-stahzia.” Hal looked up
at the duplicate rear-vision mirror
to see If the Trafford girl’s expres
sion was as soft und gentle as that
name, but he could see only her
clear, possessed profile and the
brief flow of golden hair under the
protective rim of her blue hat.
Go ahead, look like that; some
body’s going to speak to you now.
But her barely purged lips part
ed In a slight smile when Mrs. Pulsi
pher said, ‘And your name, young
lady?” “Trafford,” said the girl,
in a tone nearer huskiness than you
expected : “Barry Trafford.” “Bar
ry?" said Mrs. Pulsipher. “That
sounds like a man's name.” “I
know," said the girl quietly; “my
father liked it."
“And did well to," said Kerrigan
in grove courtliness, “if you’ll al
low me.”
Hal saw her head turn, saw her
blue eyes large and solemn but not
hostile as she said, “Thank you.”
Even without looking In the mirror,
he was conscious of her—both In it
and behind him. Relax, you, d—n
It, relax; 1 won’t speak to you.
Martin Track announced himself
then, with a lazy sort of modesty
neither amiable nor otherwise, and
Kerrigan looked at Hal.
“Henry Ireland.” said Hal, trying
to match the humorlessness of the
brown, sedate eyes, even as he won
dered If he really saw deep In them
a flicker of something youthful and
eager.
Mrs. Pulsipher tumbled quick
words at him from behind; “Any
relation to that Frederick Ire
land, that banker, that Ireland
who's president of that big bank
here?” Hal turned his head as far
as he could without moving his
body. "Oh. yes," he said. “Eldest
and favorite son."
Gaunt John Pulsipher, racked by
some surprising and hampered
eagerness, began to stammer, quick,
unconvincing laughter in his throat,
until lie snapped his lean lingers;
then lie said. “He-he-he-he ain't got
but the one son.”
"That would still leave me eld
est,” said Hal drily.
Pulsipher’s earnestness slowly
faded; he blushed, tried to smile,
dropped his eyes, and murmured.
T thought you was foolin’.”
Hal glanced into the mirror and a
slight, wry satisfaction stirred his
lips; the Trafford girl’s eyes—not
meeting his—were angry as when
she had pulled her dog back from
him, angrier, perhaps, for the
knowledge that he was looking at
her reflection and smiling to him
self. He hoped so.
“I nlways think," said Mrs. Pulsi
pher, with resumed severity, “that
when strangers come together, it’s
nice to try to make everything
pleasant as they can for each other.
It's not hard to be nice."
"It must be hard for some peo
ple,” said Harry TrafTord’s low
voice.
“Maybe it Is," said Mrs. Pulsipher
agreed, grimly pleased. “It’s too
bad if it's that way, too. They
miss so much for themselves."
“They think it's the others who’re
missing It, so I s’pose that makes
It even.” said Barry.
Hal chuckled Inside: That’s the
girl; but I'll make you madder than
that, too. And before we get to Los
Angeles, possibly you’ll be sorry
for it.
He looked at Kerrigan. The
brown eyes were thinly sedate over
wise sparks of laughter; and then
one eyelid flicked down and up,
quick as a camera shutter.
There was something funny about
the unreality of the thing. Hal
couldn't believe that these seven
other people, close and real and hot
around him now, would stay real;
nor that his mood, mixed of de
fiance. Imuatience. and anger with
himself for getting into such a
Joyless state, would stay real; nor
that his vivid sense of the girl’s
well-formed, hostile presence be
hind him would. Yet the Journey
and its days undoubtedly lay ahead;
and It couldn’t stay as it was now.
A continuance of that was patently
100 fantastic to credit, for eight
days, for eight hours, even. The
son of Frederick Ireland coasting
on his father's name! Good old
Frederick Ireland.
At least he had pretty well set
tled that they’d leave him alone
now. Pulsipher had retired into
humble perplexity, and there was
no one on the running board to talk
to Hal through the window.
Gradually Mrs. Pulsipher began
to prattle about the household of
her married daughter in Bridge
port. about places she and John had
seen this trip and how they had
liked them, about the reasons for
sending certain postcards to cer
tain friends back in L. A. Sister
Anastasia maintained her sweet,
receptive silence all the while; and
Barry barely punctuated Mrs. Pul
sipher’s devious sequences with
a soft, almost husky “yes” or “Did
you?” or "No. I’ve never been
there.” Kach time Hal looked at
her in the mirror he felt she knew
he was looking; though she never
glanced at him, her eyes seemed
to go slowly on their conscious
guard.
Hal had forgotten about the dog
until It gave a quick whimper, and
Barry an exclamation that made
him look around. The dog’s fore
legs were in Sister Anastasia’s lap,
his head turned In reproach to
ward where Barry brushed a show
er of embers from the coat upon
which he had been lying.
“Oh, the lining,” Mrs. Pulsipher
half wailed in sorrow. “Oh, is it
ruined?” Then with a grim pounce
of her words at Hal: “His cigarette
blew In the other window. Oh,
what a shame, what a—”
”1 am most awfully sorry,” said
Hal, sincerely contrite before the
girl’s disinterested look.
“The lining’s ruined," said Mrs.
Pulsipher with finality and triumph.
“Ruined."
Barry’s eyes—solemn, impersonal,
confidently clear of resentment—
looked down at the burn again.
There Was Something Funny About
the Unreality of the Thing.
‘‘It’s not bad,” she said to Mrs.
Pulsipher. “It’s easily patched,
really." She leaned to look beyond
her knees. "Do you s’pose the rest
of It’s ou the floor?”
Hal saw a coal glowing on the
carpet and found enough cigarette
behind It to pick up. The end was
wet, brown and flattened; he threw
It quickly out. Barry's blue look
—the blue of asters, flecked with
small, clear crystals of live yellow
—accused him of something then.
“That wasn’t your cigarette,” she
said.
Hal smiled a little. "It hardly
matters," he said. “I’m so awfully
sorry about—It."
"Please don’t think of It," said
Barry. “It’s really nothing."
“You’re being a sportsman."
“No,” she said quietly, and her
full lips came together In com
posed defense, her eyes saying
briefly. No, you don't: not that
way.
Something made him stop his look
on Crack as he turned hack. Crack
sat there as if the straight, sparse
ly padded seat were the top of
comfort, as if the close, damp heat
under the sun-baked roof were the
first begullmeut of a spring sun.
A slight, confident smile held his
lazy lips—lips that had a smooth
curve of adolescence without being
precisely youthful either. Hal
watched him longer than lie meant
to. Interested by something he
couldn’t see with his eyes. Crack’s
amiable smile broadened a little
before he turned his head slowly,
and Hal didn’t look away until
Crack’s full face was toward him.
What’s the little guy thinking now?
Iial wondered.
In the flimsily converted room
where dark screens sealed in heat,
flies, and the smell of frying ham
burger and onions, two heavy and
hot sisters clumped about on quick
feet — cooking. waiting, finding
things miraculously without col
lision. Miller put a toothpick Into
his grinning mouth and leaned
sleepily on the counter. "Say," he
said, as If he were a policeman,
"Is there a good garage in this
, burg?”
"Is there something wrong with
the car?” said Mrs. Pulsipher at
once.
Miller cocked the toothpick at
her. “Yup,” he said. "Couple stlckln’
valves. Might's well get ’em fixed
up while you folks eat."
"Gad, sir, why didn’t you get ’em
fixed yesterday?" Kerrigan asked.
"Sleepln’ yestlddy," snld Miller
and sucked sharply. “Come In from
Chicago in thirty hours."
"Look here, speedball," said Ker
rigan gravely, “we’ve been delayed
enough already. If you crowded
the heap this far, you can get
through till supper time. We can
sleep where we ent tonight and
you’ll have a lot more time than
here."
Mrs. Pulsipher, nodding decisive
approval, said: "Yes."
Miller looked sheepish. "Awrlght
—sure," he said: "but I gotta get
gas noil.” "There's a pump outside."
said one fat sister. Miller looked
round ut the window with slow sus
plclon. “Awrlght.” he said.
The others'moved upon the tables
nt the back of the room with ap
parent Intent to have a meal. Hal
stayed at the counter, moodily re
garding the fly-specked thermom
eter that stood nt eighty-nine He
heard Mrs. Pulsipher saying eonll
dentlally, " . . and lots of onions
over it, crisp. I'll tell you about my
dessert later." “Bring some ham
noggs,” Miller said, as if life were
too short and weary a thing to per
mlt exercise of Imagination. Hal
ordered oatmeal cookies at three for
a nickel from under a glMss bell,
and a bottle of oversharp but Icy
ginger ale.
Then Crack came to the counter
from nowhere In particular, and In
bis imsurely pitched voice told the
girl. "I’ll have the same as him."
Hal wondered how much Barry
had ordered.
"She's the only one Isn’t eating
enough for a hired hand." said
Crack. “Her and that frog sister."
Hal looked nt him quickly, but
there was nothing ilcfinnhle In the
Indolent amiability of Crack’s light
blue eyes.
“Who d’you mean by ■her’?" said
Hal Inhospitably—adding to him
self, If this guy goes on reading
my mind, I'll give it to him as a
present; I won't live with It.
“The babe they thought was with
me—Trafford,” said Crack.
Hal finished his ginger ale in a
stingy, refreshing gulp and put n
dime on the counter. Then he
turned for a look of frank curiosity
at the faintly rosy, imaged face
beside him. Even If the fella’s
standards were totally different
from his own, wtwt did It matter
if Hal was rude to him? The lazy,
mischievous curiosity of his eyes
seemed to be partly ready for re
buffs. Hal nodded briefly and went
out Into the hazed, dust smelling sun
light that was Just as hot and
caged-in ns the screened room.
The terrier, unleashed, trotted
around the corner eager for smells,
and then the Trafford girl came,
watching him with a thoughtful
smile, the conscious defense of her
large eyes gratefully relaxed. The
h—1 with being a stick, Hal said to
himself; one honest try, and if she
turns It back at me. I can Jolly-well
be rude with comfort.
He watched her take a couple of
her sure, deliberate steps. Her
smile took away the traces of tough*
ness Hal thought he’d noticed before
—accented a smooth delicacy in the
slight In-drawing of her chpeks un
der the high cheek bones. The
faint pink there wnsn't make-up,
either; and her frank lips wore no
lipstick. They were frank lips, gen
erous, full without being sensual,
under their two simple peaks.
There was an air about her of
reticent vitality, sure and artless
as the angle which gave her plain
blue hat its ehlc.
Hal pushed his back from the
wall and spoke a quiet “Hello.”
Her look at him was startled, al
most alarmed, but he met her eyes
aggressively, smiling. It wus an
Instant before her smile began, the
parting of her lips delayed; her
look was relieved, but without dem
onstration. •‘Hello,” she said, as
If to a pleasant little boy, and
looked off to see where the dog
was.
•‘llow’re you?” he said.
"Fine," she said, her smooth
voice Just off huskiness. She ap
praised his smiling eyes thought
fully another moment before she
added, “Your clothes are English.”
“They’re my brother’s," he said
ut once, wondering why the devil
he’d said that when it wus his own
old suit and he had no brother any
way,
“You like England," she said, not
as If he would deny It but as if he
wouldn’t volunteer It. ‘‘You like
It better than this country."
“I’m not sure I’d say that."
“You’re not sure you wouldn’t,
either, are you? Are you flattered
when people take you for an Eng
lishman?"
"Used to be, when 1 was younger.
Why?”
“How old are you now?"
“Twenty-six.” Hal’s eyes were
laughing as he said to himself, Holy
mackerel, what is this? Look to
your balance here, Ireland. “How
old are you?”
"About twenty-three," she said, as
If It were quite unimportant.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
The Fascinating
Stowaway
98
By GEORGE M. HUNTER
©. McClure Ntumpaper Syndicate.
WNU Service.
1.. 'I i . i I
DILLON, the second engineer,
looked down into the defiant
biue eyes of the stowaway,
Isabella Johnson.
"How'd you pick the Iverson?
How come? And who did do it?"
Angry that her identity had been
discovered, she told reluctantly how
Parry of the Blue Funnel line had
shot Biles at the Anchor Inn owned
by her mother.
She had followed Parry into the
garden and raised her hand to stop
hltu.
Being close together the garden
er, the only witness, swore she fired
the shot.
"I was trying to stop Parry in
stead of him trying to stop me."
The trains and steniners were being
watched so she hod slunk aboard
the first tramp steamer In the near
est dock and the day before been
hauled on deck.
Eight bells Interrupted Dillon's
first talk with the stowaway.
Coming o(T watch lie found the
fourth engineer by her chair.
Angling his thumb over Ills shoul
der. he snapped, "Clwan!”
Her eyes protested.
"Fresh kid. Say, you're looking
great." He said it with a proprie
tary nir. "Anybody else been snoop
in’ around?”
Her face clouded as she told
about ihe chief engineer asking how
she was to get ashore in New York.
"Aw, now don't worry.”
ne leaned across her chair.
"Say, let me get you out of this
mess. You’re a swell girl."
She glanced shyly at him as the
mess bell rang.
Dillon ate silently, scowled when
the engineers bet three to one the
stowaway would crash the gates of
the United States.
Next day when he found her dls
tressed the captain had hinted at
deportation.
“Get that worry off your chest.
Isabella.
“Here's the chief coining. 80
long.’’
Coming oPF night watch, Dillon
whispered oulslde tier door.
On opening, he drew her Into I he
darkest place on the deck and
learned the chief engineer had of
fered to pass her off as his daugh
ter, and take her ashore.
1 Dillon laughed.
“Oh, lor’, Isabella, you and him
would he like a tug boat and a lin
er. Share, girlie, you are a flrst
class liner.”
“Oh, It would be better than de
portation,” she Interrupted.
“Don’t borrow trouble. Let Bill
see you through—"
The bridge bell clanked eight
bells.
He kissed her hand and hurried
below.
Off watch at twelve next day,
Dillon made straight for the stow
iway’s chair.
“Who’s been botherin’ now?” he
demanded.
“Captain Dart says he’ll need to
log me. What does he mean?”
“Why, he’s a square shooter. If
be hasn’t you In his log as a stow
away—he’ll not do It.”
"But I can’t go back,’’ she cried.
“All right, girlie, there’s a way
vj t.”
“How? What do you mean?’’ she
asked, puzzled.
“Say—I—I am hard boiled. Wom
en, I’ve known ’em by scores. I
ain’t been a marryln’ guy. Never
thought about it till I saw you."
She drew away from him.
“Say, girlie—” He looked around
and saw Captain Dart coming.
“So long."
He gave Dart an ugly look.
Before going on watch, he slipped
a note under her door asking her
to meet him at midnight.
In the darkness he gained the
corner below the bridge and waited.
At the sound of her footsteps. Dil
lon turned, reached out his hand,
seized hers and pulled her to him.
“Listen, Isabella,” he murmured.
She pulled back.
“Let me go."
“Isabella, girlie,” his tones were
soft and crooning tender.
His arms about her, she sighed
as his lips found hers.
She abandoned her struggles and
they stood silently for a long time.
“Do you love me that much, Isa
bella?"
"I guess 1 do," she said trem
bling.
“But we must forget that—this
ever happened.”
“Never, I’m crazy about you.
Once I had a poetic guy on my
watch, and he’d spout about love
bein’ blind. Love me and the
world is mine.”
"Just leave it to me—’’
Footsteps coming aft. she kissed
him and vanished.
He made for his room.
Dillon saw her for a moment be
lore the quarantine doctor came
aboard. “The captain says l’ui to
keep to my room, and Bill, he didn’t
write in his log that lie had a stow
away.”
“Savin’ his fuee, huh!” Bill
grunted.
The Iverson passed quarantine,
then docked at pier 40. Captain
Durt dressed for the city, called
the steward, handed him twenty
dollars.
"See what Miss Johnson—eh—
wants In clothes. If more money
than that let me know.”
"Yes, sir.”
“You know nothing about her.”
"Very good, sir.”
The steward was edging past the
longshoremen thronging the deck,
when the second mate gripped him
by the arm. "Say, Steward," Jerk
ing his thumb over his shoulder to
ward the stowaway’s room. “How
does a fellow buy women's clothes?"
“Ry de color, sur."
"Color, nothin', bonehead! Size
I mean, now tall Is Miss Johnson?”
“Vlmmen's buy dress by ze chest,
round ze chests—bust Inches.”
"An old man like you should quit
lyin’. My compliments to Miss
Johnson. Ask the correct size."
The steward returned, wiping his
hands on his greasy apron. "Thir
ty four sir. A black dress she
vimtu. an' says dank you.”
“All right. I’ll get her a black
frock. Here's a dollar for your
self. Don't go boozin' now."
Half an hour later the third mate
dodged Inside the cabin and called
the steward out of the pantry.
"Say, that stowaway girl—what
does she need most?"
“Stowaway—stowaway, sur. Oh,
Miss Yohnson?”
"Yen, Miss Johnson.”
“(>l„ she needs shoes."
"Want size?”
"I don’t know, sur.”
“(Jo ask her.”
He returned breathless. "Four
and de black color, stir.”
At night the fourth mate hurried
Into I no mess room, late for dinner.
"Rcei. buying something lor the
stowaway. Miss Johnson. Manicure
set, some candy and flowers. Old
Melchlsedlck, the steward, wouldn't
let me see her. I—"
The fourth mate stood In the
doorway with a paper In his bund,
grinning. "Me and the other
mates," he said. “Thought we might
give that poor girl h lift. Tomor
row the skipper’ll take her ashore
and put her on the train for Chica
go. lie subscribed twenty dollurs.
The mates have made It up to fifty."
The engineer volunteered to make
up the even hundred.
“Good sports,” complimented the
mate.
Next morning as the engineers
ate breakfast, a cocky sailor's voice
drifted through the window. “Did
ye 'enr It. The female stowaway
bolted last night 1 Her room smells
like a blinkin’ barber's shop."
The engineers walked single tile
to her room. Wrapping paper, emp
ty dress, shoe and candy boxes lit
tered the bed.
“Ret the mates bought that Junk,"
said the third engineer.
“Sure," agreed the chief. "Mates
are fools about women.”
The engineers were lingering near
the door, like lovers near an old
sweetheart’s grave after the funerul
when the steward ambled up. “Dat
second engineer—he runn’d away,
too."
Dillon had not run far. lie was
sitting in Battery purk.
She'd just spoil his life, Isabella
Johnson was telling him.
“Girlie, I'd stand the spollin'.”
“Now, I’m safely ashore, forget
me, Bill," she pleaded. “God knows
I love you, but Its best. There’s
the suspicion I can't explain."
“Gee, Isabella, betcha I can.
When I glimpsed you on deck, I
tumbled. See, I got this from the
Sandy Hook pilot when he came
aboard.’’
He spread a crumpled Liverpool
Mercury out and she read:
ANCHOR INN MURDER
PARRY CONFESSES
“Oh, Bill,” she gasped, clutching
his arm.
, “Yeah, ten minutes more an’ the
license man in the city hall will be
doin' some business.”
When Salt Pork Greased
Paths to High Society
To social climbers of the SO’s In
Livingston county, all that was
needed was a side of salt pork, and
the snootiest of log cabin dwellers
would welcome you to his home.
Bven more, lie would unfailingly
call upon you at yours, observes a
writer In the Detroit Free Press.
But If all your larder boasted was
wild turkey, venison, honey, game
fish, and squab, the social heights
were not for you.
This sidelight on the manner in
which salt pork greased the ways
to social prominence Is given by
a son of pioneer parents. In his rec
ord of their early struggles.
lie writes that In 1S.‘i7, when
pork was quoted at $25 a barrel
and the only way to obtain It nt
that price was by laborious travel
to Detroit, the fortunate possessor
of pork was certain to find himself
unusually popular, with his neigh
hors casually dropping In at meal
time.
Salt pork was regarded as a deli
cacy to tempt the most feeble ap
petites when anyone was ill.
But wild turkey was plebeian
food. If you were too thrifty to
waste time and hall and powder in
hunting them, one could always be
obtained for about two cents a
pound or less. One sale Is men
tioned in which a quart of whisky,
selling at 25 cents a gallon, was
traded for a large gobbler.
Deer and fish could be had for
the shooting or fishing. Honey
trees were found frequently, and
the pioneer who wanted pigeon,
shot once into the nearest tree and
then discarded the older birds.
ELIOT’S INDIAN BIBLE
Sold from the library of John Bat
terson Stetson, Jr„ of Philadelphia.
Kev. John Eliots Indian Bible
brought $2,400. Dated 1663, It was
a translation Into the Indian lan
guage and was used by Eliot In his
missionary work among the Indians
In New England. Approximately
1,000 copies were printed; only 50
are In existence.—Literary Digest.
BOYS! GIRLS!
Read the Grape Nuts ad In anothei
column of this paper and learn how
to join the Dizzy Dean Winners and
win valuable free prizes.—Adv.
Asbe* of Jericho
One of the novel experiences of
tourists to the Holy Land is ths
privilege of picking up a handful of
the ashes of Jericho. The exact out
line of the old walls are now well
defined.
I'Tve baked
over 300 Prize
Winning
cakes, pies
and pastries'*.
Says Mrs. M.E.
Rynerson, who
now m«ii
CLABBER/
CIRL «*• /;
clutively. J i
SICK HEADACHES
Indicate Acid Condition
Chew one or more Milnesia
Wafers and obtain relief
Send tor on* week's liberal tupply—FREE
SELECT PRODUCTS. Inc., 4402 23nf
Street. Lons Island City, Now York
KILL ALL rUES 1
Placed anywhere. Daisy Ply I
Killer attract* and kill* Ole*. ■
Guaranteed, eHectlva. Neat. ■
convenient — Cannot »plll-y- ■
Wlllnot boII or Injure anyth Ink. I
lMto all aeaeon. 20o at all ■
draleta. Harold Home™. Inc., B
160 De Kalb Ave.Jl kiytUi.Y. |
WATCH YOHR
KIDNEYS!
Be Sure They Properly
Cleanse the Blood
YOUR kidneys are constantly fil
tering Impurities from the blood
stream. But kidneys get function
ally disturbed—lag In their work—
fail to remove the poisonous body
wastes.
Then you may suffer nagging
backache, attacks of dizziness,
burning, scanty or too frequent
urination, getting np at night,
swollen feet and ankleB, rheumatic
painB; feel "all worn out."
Don’t delay! For the quicker you
get rid of these poisons, the better
your chances of good health.
Use Doan’s Pins. Doan’s are for
the kidneys only. They tend to pro
mote normal functioning of the
kidneys; should help them pass off
the Irritating poisons. Doan’s are
recommended by users the country
over. Get them from any druggist.
DOAN’S PIUS
I Sprinkle Ant Food along win- I
dow sills, doors and openings I
through which ants come and I
go. Guaranteed to rid quickly. I
Used in a million homes. Inez- K
pensive. At your druggist’s. N
WNU—U 21—
Prompt Relief
Por sufferers from the itching, burn
ing and irritation of eczema, pimples,
rashes, red, rough skin, itching, burn
ing feet, chaiings, chapping*, cuts,
burns and disfiguring blotches, may
be found by anointing with
futicura
\j OINTMENT
Sample free. Address:
“Cutlcura," Dept. 2)S, Malden, Mass,