CATTLE KINGDOM
By ALAN LE MAY - t—7
CHAPTER VII—Continued
Walt Amos turned his back on
them, and stood staring out into the
sun-blasted street. That street was
curiously empty — unwholesomely
empty, so that nobody who had seen
the crowd there could look at that
street now without knowing that
something was irregular, something
wrong.
“Move out, then," the sheriff said.
“Drag your freight and drag it
quick. Keep going. Five minutes
from now I don’t want you in this
town.”
Horse Dunn chuckled in his short
beard and hitched his belt up. Slow
ly he sauntered past the deputies,
staring at each of them with an
open insolent amusement as he
passed: then he shouldered out, a
huge hulk that filled the whole
frame of the door.
Unhurrying, the 94 men made
their way along the main street of
Inspiration, around the corner to
their car.
But as the dust of Inspiration
kicked out from under their tires
they knew that they had put behind
them a violence that was not avoid
ed, but only delayed.
By the time they reached the
ranch it was already late afternoon,
and the tall Tuscaroras were send
ing vast, vague Angers of shadow
about the layout of the 94, while the
high eastern horizon was still bright
ly brassy in the sun. Marian did not
come out to meet them. Hunting
around. Horse Dunn presently sight
ed her sitting on the fence of a
little empty corral, hidden from the
house by the barns. He walked out
to climb the fence beside her; and
Billy Wheeler, tired of people
around him. went to his room, and
got his razors out.
Here Horse presently came look
ing for him. The old cow boss
walked in slowly, and closed the
door after him. He sat down on
the edge of the bunk with the move
ments of a man a hundred years
old; and he covered his face with
his hands.
“You know what she said to me?”
he demanded.
“Nope.”
“1 went out to where she’s sitting
on that corral. I just wanted to tell
her about Rufe Deane throwing
down his deputy badge, and the way
they cleared the street. I 'thought
maybe if she’d seen it all she’d
know what we’re up against. So I
went out there and said. ‘Marian—’
That was all I said. She never even
looked at me. And pretty soon she
says—'You’re making this country
run red.’ ”
Suddenly Billy Wheeler felt a de
tached pity for this old man and this
girl. He was able to see what Horse
Dunn could not: that the girl was
curiously dependent upon this old
man, who looked like her father;
was dependent upon him in more
ways than she was aware. And
both were deeply hurt, at a loss, be
cause they could not understand
each other.
He could not see much chance
that the girl would learn to under
stand either Horse Dunn or the dry
country men whom he faced. Horse
Dunn was what the dry country had
made him; and there was no longer
anything in the old man's life ex
cept the cow kingdom he had
dreamed, and tried to build, for her.
A slight noise was heard and Old
Man Coffee came in gloomily and
threw his coiled dog whip on the
floor.
“I haven’t actually hit a dog with
that thing for over nine days.” he
offered. “But I swear I come close
to hitting one tonight. That old fool
makes me so cussed—”
“Coffee,” Dunn interrupted, “you
haven’t been here long; but you’ve
trailed ar.d back-trailed, and pro
moted all over this place with those
long-eared hounds. Now tell me one
thing; do you see any show of find
ing out who killed Lon Magoon?”
Old Man Coffee dropped into a
chair and considered for several
long moments. “No,” he said at
last.
“Why?” Dunn demanded.
"Somebody, some place, may
have killed Lon Magoon, for all I
know. But he sure wasn’t killed at
Short Crick.”
For ,once in his life old Horse
Dunn's jaw dropped. “Look here!
You wouldn’t go to fooling with
me?”
“I don't always know what I’m
talking about. This time I know.”
“But the saddle—”
“I don’t question it was Magoon’s
saddle; I only say it was a different
man was killed in it.”
Again Horse stared at Coffee;
then he relaxed a little,, and sat
down on the bunk. “Coffee,” he
said, "if you're so dead sure, in
God's name tell us what you know!"
Coffee squinted his deep-set eyes
at Dunn. “I sore-footed a good dog,
and like to killed a mule, getting
over here to help you with this case.
I don't ask for that to be appre
ciated. But I’m getting a little tired
of answering all the questions
around here!"
Horse looked baffled. “What's the
matter with you?”
"I’m tired of being lied to, for
one thing.’’
"Who’s lied to you?”
"More than one, right here on this
place. Dunn, there’s too many
things not open to the eye around
here to suit me!”
"Coffee,” said Horse Dunn with
out belligerence, "what in all hell
do you mean by that?”
“I’ll just give you one sample.”
Old Man Coffee picked up his dog
whip from the floor and sorted out
its coils with bony old fingers.
"There’s been a horse in this case
that's been known as the killer's
horse, because he left his trail at
Short Crick, mixed up in the sign
of the killing. You know I took old
Rock and we trailed that horse;
though it come to nothing, then.
Now, since we’ve been back here
this afternoon, I’ve seen a funny
thing Rock’s been working around
the horse corrals, by himself; try
ing to work out a trail. Dog voices
is peculiar—they call different trails
in different ways. And as soon as
I heard Rock's voice, 1 knew he was
crying the trail of the killer horse."
They stared at him in silence.
Then Horse Dunn said, “You're tell
"I Swear 1 Never Heard the
Beat.”
ing me that the killer’s horse has
been here in this layout—right here
—within the past few days?”
“Within the past 24 hours,” Coffee
said.
Horse Dunn made a gesture of
impatience, almost of disgust. “I
swear I never heard the beat,” he
said. “You set out to give me a
sample of how you've been done
wrong by, around here. And what
does it come to? You read names,
dates and places into the howl of a
hound; and you figure out that right
here among us he's come on a trail
that he completely lost when he had
the straight run of it.”
CHAPTER VIII
The mountains were throwing
their early lucid twilight across the
range of the 94 by the time the cow
boys cleared their supper plates
They had eaten In silence. But
somehow in the interval since the
conference in Billy Wheeler’s room,
everybody there had learned that a
quarrel seemed about to smoke up
between Old Man Coffee and Horse
Dunn. So now they still loafed in
the mess shack, and nobody spoke
of seven-up. They rolled cigarettes
and lighted pipes, and a couple of
lamps were lit, throwing tall, huge
shadows of the men on the walls
behind. They all knew that the 94
was up against a thrash-out, with
in itself.
Horse Dunn broke the silence im
patiently. “There sure ought to be
enough scrapping on this range
without hunting up trouble among
ourselves. In ordinary times this
whole killing case wouldn't amount
to a tinker's damn to begin with."
“I’m not so sure,” said Old Man
Coffee.
"What kind of a case have they
got?" Horse demanded. “They can’t
even find their everlasting stiff!"
"They’re pretty liable to find it,"
Old Man Coffee thought. “Whet
they find it, it'll be about all they
need. If it’s Magoon. like you claim
they can show motive—you sair
openly that you’d kill Magoon i/ you
caught him on 94 range. They've
got opportunity—by your own state
ment you were riding alone on Red
Sleep Ridge that day, and the Red
Sleep is within striking distance of
Short Crick They can prove you
hid the dead man’s saddle—which
they can stretch to make look like a
concealment of the crime And all
this says nothing about the killing of
Cayuse Cayetano."
"What’s known about the killing
of Cayuse?”
"How do I know? We’re so popu
lar around here we can't even go
look over Ace Springs without get
tins into a scrap with officers of
•
the peace—same as Billy got Into
at Short Crick.”
Dunn slumped down in his chair
and went to growling into his war
like beard. *T don't believe you
know any more about it than the
rest of us do."
•T'U put it stronger than that.
Maybe—" Old Man Coffee made
each word separately hear d—
"someone in this room knows a
whole lot more than I know!”
Horse Dunn sat perfectly still, ex
cept for his eyes; his head did not
raise and no muscle of his face
changed, but his eyes whipped to
the old lion hunter’s face. After a
moment he said, "Coffee, that's one
remark you're sure going to have
to back up.”
‘T’U say just one thing more.
There's scarcely a man in this room
that hasn’t lied to me at least once,
in the little time I've been here.”
Horse Dunn sat up slowly, hitch
ing himself square in his chair.
“Maybe some of my boys have been
a little hazy and loose-spoken about
where they've been, and when. No
man knows what he’s up against
here. Take Gil. here—the sheriff
mixed him up. And why? Because
Gil would try to stand by his side
riders even if he knew every last
one of 'em was guilty. If you hold
that against him. then maybe you
know dogs—but you’re nuts!”
Old Man Coffee spoke past the
pipe stem in his teeth. "I suppose
that lets you out, too?” He sat look
ing at Dunn steadily, a little smile
on his face.
Horse spread his hands in front
of him on the table, as if he would
jump across it, and his voice rose
like the voice of a bull. "If you
say I lied, then by God name what
you mean!”
“To hell with you," Coffee said,
without lifting his voice.
“You’ll either back what you
said,” the outraged Horse Dunn
stormed, "or you’ll swaller it
whole!”
“That I won’t do either,” Coffee
said.
For a moment Horse Dunn stared
at him blankly; then he sat down,
and the (lame went out of his eyes,
giving place to something ugly. “I
can’t stand for that, Coffee," he
said. "You know I can't stand for
that.”
“I can’t help that.”
“You don’t give me any choice,”
said Horse Dunn thickly. “You sure
you want to stick to what you said?"
“Naturally.”
"If you don’t want to work with
me—I’ve got along all right so far,
and I guess I’ll be able to go on
struggling along. I—”
“Wait.” Billy began. "You—”
“Shut up, Wheeler,” Coffee said
“You’ve acted like you’ve wanted
out of this ever since I got you in
it,” Dunn clipped out. “All right
then—you’re out! And you can send
me a bill for what I owe.”
Old Man Coffee stood up and
stretched himself, a queer smile on
his face. "Just send me a check for
a million dollars,” he said. He saun
tered out into the dark.
For a few moments after Old Man
Coffee had gone out, the 94 people
sat silent, unable to realize that the
old lion hunter was no longer of
their number.
Horse Dunn roused himself. "I
always heard he was cracky. But
now he’s gone cracked altogether.
I suppose the old fool won’t even
stay the night—he’ll go sleep in the
brush somewhere. Well, fair
enough! Somebody go catch him his
mule.’’
Two or three of them moved, but
Billy Wheeler wanted the job, and
he took it. He held a lantern while
Coffee saddled his black mule. He
knew it was useless to try to get the
two old men together again, but he
felt that it was one of those things
that a man has to try. He kept
trying to think of an angle of ap
proach, but Old Man Coffee, whose
packing up was easily done, was
ready to move out before Wheeler
had thought of a way.
Old Man Coffee extended his hand.
"Well, so long, son.”
“I’m almighty sorry,” Wheeler
said, ‘‘to see you leave this case.
You’re needed here, if ever a man
was."
"Tough," said Old Mun Coffee. He
swung aboard the black mule and
sat looking down at Billy Wheeler
from the saddle. "1 kind of like
you, son. You seem to have a lit
tle more savvy than the others. So
here’s something for you to keep
under your hat. I'm not out of this
case yet. I’m going to do one more
job before 1 go. I'm going to find
the murdered man.”
"You think you can?”
"Looks like I might. Horse Dunn
—he ain’t in on this. He made a
fool of me, and himself too, when he
got bullheaded and held onto Ma
goon's saddle. I told him to turn
it in to the sheriff—but no, he had
to have his own way. This time I’m
running no chances. If I find the
dead man, my next move will be to
take word to the sheriff."
"And then—”
‘And then I’nr. going off in the
brush and sleep for a week.”
"But look here! Do you realize,
if you do that the Inspiration crowd
will be holding every card in the
deck? Where does the 94 come in?”
"That's your worry. But I'll help
you this much: you be up on Lost
Whiskey Butte tomorrow about an
hour after sun-up. Tomorrow's go
ing to be my last day’s work on this
case—I hope. And we’ll see what
we’ll see.”
“I’ll be there,” Wheeler said.
"And don’t you bring Horse Dunn
—or any of his hired men either.
Or by golly. I’ll—”
"Okay.”
When he was gone Billy Wheeler
climbed to the top rail of the cor
ral, where he sat despondently eye
ing the horizon stars. For the first
time he felt an overwhelming sense
of the 94’s helplessness against odds.
Everything had gone against Horse
Dunn; the outfit was confused, dis
organized. at a loss.
One question stood out largely in
his mind. Where was Bob Flagg?
To Billy Wheeler it seemed that
the appearance of Bob Flagg, and
thi3 alone, could give them any
chance to extricate the 94 from the
trap it was in.
Marian Dunn, he noticed, still
stood talking to Val Douglas, linger
ing outside the door of the ranch
house. In the stillness of the night
he could hear the low continuous
murmur of Val's voice, talking
steadily—doubtless in his own be
half. And he could see Marian’s
lowered profile against the yellow
light of a window pane. It was
curious how every suggested line of
that girl, every least bend of her
head could move Billy Wheeler,
twist him inside.
Then a strange thing happened—
strange in that Billy Wheeler had al
most a forenotice of it. As he sat
there alone in the dark he now found
himself keenly aware of the peopled
layout about him—aware of the ex
act location of the men in the bunk
house, of the ponies in the corrals.
It was a peculiar sensation, as if
he were suddenly more awake than
before, as awake as a man in a
ring battle, or a man in danger.
And especially he was aware of
the dark, silent brush country at
his back, where buckbrush and des
ert juniper stood thick behind the
corrals. Somewhere out there a
twig cracked, and his nerves jerked.
Something in that black mile of
brush was as awake as he.
Then abruptly the silence broke,
definitely, once-and-for-all, as if the
night's shell of stillness had
cracked.
(TO HE CONTINUED)
__ _
Wood Long in Use, but Forever Doomed
by Other Materials; Charcoal Replaced
Wood has found a wide variety
of uses as a raw material in the
past, but it seems forever doomed
to be replaced by something else,
writes Dr. Thomas M. Beck in the
Chicago Tribune. Ft was the first
fuel that men burned, but now it
has been largely replaced by coal
and petroleum. The first houses
were made of wood, but now brick,
'lass, concrete, and steel are grad
ually taking its place. The wooden
ships of a century ago have given
way to the iron ships of today.
So it has been in the chemical
industry, but with one important
difference. Wood has been the
source of a number of important
raw materials which have later
been produced more economically
from other sources. However, the
chemical importance of wood itself
has not declined, for new uses have
continually been discovered to take
the place of the old ones
For example, the first chemical
reagent to be made from wood prob
ably was charcoal, which is the
fairly good grade of carbon left
when the other elements of wood
are driven off by intense heat. Car
bon is an excellent reducing agent,
which means that it can readily
combine, when hot enough, with the
oxygen of metallic ores to form gas
eous carbon oxides, thereby leaving
the metal in a free state. At one
time practically all the iron pro
duced was done so with the help of
charcoal. Now coke has taken its
place almost completely.
Almost simultaneous with the de
cline of the metallurgical applica
tion of charcoal has been the devel
opment of another important use,
although one more limited in vol
ume. Carbon has an unusual ability
to absorb organic matter on its sur
face. The porous nature of wood
charcoal gives it a great amount of
exposed surface, so that it possesses
this absorptive power to an unusual
extent.
Oliver Goldsmith’s Grave
Oliver Goldsmith's grave is in
the churchyard of Temple church.
Fleet street, London,
TooMuchWater
in Tissues
By
OR. JAMES W. BARTON
® Bell Syndicate.—WNU Service.
□OMETIMES you see an
overweight man or wom
an, who, instead of having a
red or rosy complexion, looks
unusually pale, in fact,
“pasty” describes their ap
pearance accurately. They
ore suspected of having heart
and kidney trouble, as this
pale, podgy appearance is j
often present in chronic in
flammation of the kidneys.
However, when the finger is
pressed into the flesh, the
flesh does not “pit,” and this
overweight and pasty ap
pearance is simply due to too
much water being allowed to
remain in the body tissues.
Now this condition is believed to
be due to some disturbance in the
pituitary gland lyin"
on the floor of the
skull. This little
gland seems to reg
ulate to a consider
able extent both the
wrter and the
starch consumption
by ihe body tissues.
UcJike the ordinary
or usual overweight
cases where the ex
cess weight Is due
Dr. Barton t0 overeating, these
pnsty podgy individ
uals are really not large eaters;
in fact they are small eaters. Thus
many have been known to retain
their weight on 700 calories a day,
which would be about one-third the
amount of food eaten by the aver
age individual of the same weight
and height.
"The patients are usually young
(twelve to twenty years of age).
The output of urine from the kid
neys is much below normal, being
about one pint a day, whereas the
normal output should be more than
twice that amount. Such are the
characteristics cf the ‘water retain
er’ as these individuals are called.”
Method of Treatment.
You can thus see that the accu
mulation of water is a big factor in
weight production.
Naturally if the pituitary gland is
at fault in these cases it would be
thought advisable to give by mouth
or injection some extract of pitui
tary gland.
In outlining the treatment for
these "water retainers,” Dr. A. H.
Douthwaite is tbe British Medical
Journal says:
"Treatment consists of (1) cutting
down the fluid intake to about
pints a day; (2) limiting or cut
ting down on salt by avoiding salt
entirely, both at the table and in
the cooking; (3) giving a diet of low
caloric (fuel or food) value as fol
lows:
Six large bananas
lVi pints of skimmed milk
Vt of medium sized cabbage or
lettuce.
“Divide the above into three or
four meals. Loss of weight will be
about one-half pound daily. After
two to three weeks substitute for
two bananas two eggs and a little
butter and green vegetables. Fish
and lean meat a week later.
"(4) The use of small doses of calo
mel (mercury) beginning with very
small doses (one-tenth to one-quar
ter grain), and gradually increas
ing it if there is no reaction or
symptoms due to the mercury, or if
there is not too much purging.
“The above complete treatment
may be repeated four times a year
if necessary.”
Now this looks very simple but in
this type of overweight—water re
tention—as in all types of over
weight the reduction of food is
bound to affect the whole body, and
notwithstanding the benefit to the
working processes of the body by
the loss of this water weight, the
heart may be affected and must
always be watched carefully.
Women Fight Cancer.
Because millions of dollars are be
ing spent and hundreds of research
physicians are working night and
day to try to discover the cause of
cancer, many may have the idea
that until that cause is found nothing
can be done to save the lives of
those afflicted with cancer. Yet
every day men and women are at
tending clinics where by the use o
the X-ray, radium, and th eknife
many are saved.
What should prove a powerful
force in spreading the idea that can
cer is curable is what will be known
as “The Women's Field Army."
sponsored by the American Society
for the Control of Cancer. Without
guns, without uniforms, without poi
son gas, a war is being launched.
It is a war of education against one
of the greatest menaces of life: can
cer. The first drive against cancer
is indeed a war to save human life.
The soldiers are the women of
America and the enemy is cancer.
The leaders of the organization
feel that an educational drive, car
ried on over a period of years, can
save perhaps 40 per cent of the
140,000 who die each year. This
Women’s Field Army will work
through the medical societies of the
states or provinces.
Hiram Steps In
By ENDORA RAMSAY RICHARDSON
© McClure Newspaper Syndicate.
WNU Service.
Lucy Green.” Hiram
* » Thompson said in real dis
may, “you can’t mean that after all
these years you are going to leave
me.”
The lady addressed compressed
her spinsterly mouth and resumed
her knitting. "Yes, Hiram,” she
replied with terrible finality in her
tone. "I mean Just that"
"Haven't you had a nice home to
live ih?” the poor man inquired tim
idly, the furrow between his eyes
deepening. "If it’s money, Lucy,
name your price.”
Lucy Green clicked her needles
impatiently and kept her eyes upon
her flying fingers. "I have no com
plaint. I’m forty years old, and I
want to see the city. For ten years
now I’ve been keeping house for
you, and I’m not getting any young
er. I'm goinp next week, but I’m
getting you a housekeeper."
"All right, Lucy," the man almost
moaned. "I can’t hold you."
Miss Lucy gathered up her knit
ting and almost ran out of the room.
Hiram Thompson stared into the fire
and thought that life was a thing
exceedingly hard to endure. Lucy
had made his home comfortable,
had cooked just the things he liked,
had been such a nice body to have
around, and his little girl, whom
Lucy had taken care of since the
child was two, adored her. Really
he could not picture life without
Lucy Green.
The inexorable passing of time
brought the departure of Lucy and
the coming of her successor, Hetty
McLeod, whom from the first Hi
ram felt he couid never like.
That evening Hiram took his seat
at the supper-table and looked
across at the bony face of Hetty
McLeod who talked in strident
tones as she poured the tea.
"I see the neighbor's cat makes
free on our side of the fence,” she
began. "I ain’t a-goin’ to have that
—never did like cats.”
"Oh,” little Mary wailed. "Aunt
Lucy uscter feed him. We love that
cat."
Miss McLeod sniffed and made no
reply as she poured a dark fluid in
to the cups.
"We don't have coffee for supper;
we have tea," Mary complained.
"’Taln’t coffee. Can't you smell
the tea?" the new housekeeper cor
rected.
A few days later Hiram noticed
that dust had begun to coat the
mahogany furniture Lucy had al
ways polished with such pride. Little
Mary, studying beneath the lamp,
kicked her father gently on the
ankle, and wrote on the dark sur
face of the table, "I’m hungry, and
I want Aunt Lucy." The child had
expressed the longing that filled his
whole being. He was hungry not
only for the food Lucy prepared.
SHORT SHORT
STORY
Complete in This Issue
for the tastefully kept house that
breathed the presence of Lucy, but
he was hungry for Lucy herself.
The next day Hiram Thompson
journeyed to find Lucy Green at the
address she had given. She was
staying, he had known, at the home
of a sister in a not far-distant city
until she could find the sort of situa
tion that would enable her to see the
things she professed to yearn for.
As he walked up the steps, Hiram
Thompson, forty-five and usually at
ease, was as nervous as a school
boy. Lucy herself opened the door.
“Oh, Hiram,” she gasped, "what’s
happened? Is Mary ill?”
Hiram walked in and laid his hat
and coat on the chair nearest the
door.
"We’re starving for you, Lucy—
Mary as much as a child can and
me more’n I ever thought a man
could. I thought maybe you’d con
sider cornin’ back not as Lucy
Green, housekeeper, but as Lucy
Thompson, owner. We just can’t
live without you, Lucy,” he finished
lamely.
There was a soft light in Miss
Lucy Green’s clear eyes—and also
the glimmer of a twinkle. Her little
plan that involved sending him the
poorest housekeeper in the state
and the grouchiest old maid had
worked, but there was no use tell
ing Hiram what he needn’t ever
know. So she dropped her lids and
said gently, "Well, Hiram, I guess
I’m homesick, too.”
Black Cat Stowaway on
Plane Fights the Pilot
Flying alone—or so he thought—
from Heston. England, to Amster
dam, Holland, Dilot Mark Lacayo
was enjoying the scenery. He had
not gone far when he felt a touch
on his shoulder. His nerves are
good, but he almost went into a
tailspin from surprise. Behind him
was a large black cat. Lacayo
made a grab at the cat and it
scratched him. More grabs, more
scratches, and hen the cat fled,
taking refuge in the tail of the ma
chine. There is no way to fly an
airplane and chase a cat at the
same time, and the pilot turned
back to the startini point. The
moment he landed the cat bolted.
Add a Bluebird
To Your Linens
Out across the tulips fly our
feathered friends the Bluebirds,
so realistic when embroidered m
dainty 10 to the inch cross stitch.
See how prettily these bird motifs
may be adapted either to border
or corner various household ac
cessories—breakfast seta, towels.
Pattern 1475
scarfs or kitchen curtains. Tulips
are in single stitch. Use gay floss.
Pattern 1475 contains a transfer
pattern of two motifs 6^ by 8Vi
inches; two motifs 5 by 9Vfe inches
and four motifs 6 by 6Vi inches;
and four motifs 3Vfe by 5% inches;
color suggestions; illustrations of
all stitches used; material re
quirements.
Send 15 cents in stamps or coins
(coins preferred) for this pattern
to The Sewing Circle Needlecraft
Dent., 82 Eighth Ave., New York.
Please write plainly yaur name,
address and pattern number.
The Subconscious Mind
The expressions, eansciaus and
subconscious mind, are well de
fined psychological terms. The
subconscious mind may be defined
as anything that is neither in the
focus nor in the margin of the
consciousness (that is, that does
not receive attention and cannot
be regarded as an actual experi
ence of the moment) but which,
nevertheless, must be assumed to
be influencing the mind in some
way.
HOW OFTEN
CAN YOU KISS AND
MA IIP?
FEW husbands can understand
why a wife should turn from m
pleasant companion Into a shrew
for one whole week in every month.
You can say “I'm sorry" and
• kiss and make up easier before
marriage than after. If you're wise
and If you want to hold your bus
band, you won't be a threo-quarter
wifo.
For three generations one woman
has told another how to go "smil
ing through" with I,ydla E. Pink
ham's Vegetable Compound. It
helps Nature tone up the sjrstem.
thus lessening the discomforts from
the functional disorders which
women must endure In the three •'
ordeals of life: 1, Turning from
girlhood to womanhood. 2. Pre
paring for motherhood. 3. Ap
proaching "middle ago."
Don’t bo a three-quarter wite.
tako LYDIA E PINKIIAM'S
VEGETABLE COMPOONDand
Go "Smiling Through."
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Even the first few treatments with Denton's Facial
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DENTON’S
Facial Magnesia
SELECT
PRODUCTS, Hie.
4402 — 23rd St,
Long Island City, ILT.
Enclosed find $1
(cash or stamps)
lor which send me vour
special introductory
combination.
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Street Addraaa-...............
City.Stmt«...
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