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ADVENTURERS’ CLUB .
HEADLINES FROM THE LIVES
OF PEOPLE LIKE YOURSELFI
“The Gray Fanged Terror”
Hello everybody:
Dorothy Dublin of Brooklyn, N. Y., wins the place
of honor today with the story of a terrible experience that
once happened to her dad. That makes her dad, Jacob Dub
lin, the club’s newest Distinguished Adventurer.
It happened in Russia, in the town of Ubtchark, near the
city of Minsk, close by what is now the Polish border, and
it happened forty-eight years ago, in the late fall of 1888,
when Jacob Dublin was just a little nine-year-old boy. If
a grown man had gone through the adventure that little
Jake encountered on a lonely country road that chilly fall
evening in 1888, it would still be a wow of a story. But
when an adventure of that sort happens to a nine-year-old
kid—well—then you have a new definition of the true mean
ing of the word “terror.”
They had wolves in West Russia in those days. F'or that
matter, you’ll still find wolves in certain parts of Russia
today. Then, there were plenty of them—and more than a
few lurked in the forests around Ubtchark. Those wolves gave little
Jake Dublin plenty to worry about, too. For It was his duty to drive
his father's horses to the feeding ground every day, and that feeding
ground was on the edge of the forest.
Wolves Harmless During Morning Hours.
It wasn't driving the horses TO the pasture so much as driving them
home again In the evening that worried little Jake. In the mornings,
the wolves never bothered anyone. But in the evening, emboldened by
the darkness, they had been known to attack grown men. The result
was that little Jake had to be mighty sure to bring those horses back
from pasture while it was still light And if it ever happened he was
delayed until dusk began to fall—well—then his dad took over the job
of bringing those horses home.
But one day things went wrong out at the pasture—and little Jake
Dublin almost didn't get back.
He started early enough. If he had come back as promptly
there wouldn’t have been any danger. But trouble started
when he reached the feeding ground and tried to bring the horses
home. There was a beautiful Ally in the herd, called Tara, which
was as yet unbroken. A couple of times before she had been
hard to manage, but this afternoon Jake couldn’t do anything
with her. For almost an hour he chased her about the pasture
trying to get her under control.
It was almost dark by the time he got her quieted, and still he had
the other horses to round up. It took him another 10 or 15 minutes to
Suddenly, a lithe, gray form shot out of the woods and sank its teeth
into the neck of the first horse!
get all the beasts tethered together, one behind the other, the way
his dad had taught him to bring them in, and by that time it was night.
Little Jake Has Choice of Two Paths.
The forest, to one side of him, was ominously still. Dark treetops
loomed over him, silent against an almost pitch black sky. Little Jake
knew it was no hour for a nine-year-old boy to be out alone. He knew
that the quicker he got home, the better. There were two paths he could
take on his way home. One path turned into a road that ran along the
edge of the forest. It was a roundabout way, but it was a little safer
than the other.
The other ran part way through the forest. It was more
dangerous than the first route, but it was shorter and it went
straight toward his home. Faced with a choice between these
two paths, little Jake chose the one (hat went through the forest.
On either path there was danger from wolves. Jake picked the
shorter way beeause—well—he wanted to get home just as fast
as be could.
He started down the path leading his long string of horses. He
hadn’t gone very far when suddenly Tara, who was the second horse in
the line, began to get unruly again. She bucked and reared. The rest
of the horses became nervous and fidgety. Wondering what was the
matter with Tara now, Jake moved down the line and tried to calm her.
But the horse wouldn’t be calmed. Something was frightening her—
and frightening her mighty badly, too.
Little Jake wasn’t long in finding out what was frightening
Tara. Suddenly, a lithe, gray form shot out of the brush along
side of the path and sank Us teeth into the neck of the first
, horse! A wolf!
•4 Forest Turns Into a Shrieking Bedlam.
Then, in an instant the stillness of the forest was rent by a
shrieking bedlam. The other horses screamed and struggled
while the first horse, blood gushing from his Uiroat, was pulled
down by the wolf. So far the wolf had paid no attention to little
Jake. He was too intent on making his kill. But now, other
wolves were coming, attracted by the noise and the scent of
blood. Jake could hear their weird howling coming nearer and
nearer. When the rest of the pack arrived—well—then he’d be in
for it. Then there would be a general slaughter of his poor ani
mals, and he, too, would find how it felt to have a wolf's fangs
tearing at his throat.
He stood in the midst of his rearing, plunging horses, too stiff with
fright to move a step. What good would it do him to run anyway?
Those wolves could pick up a scent and follow it faster than he could run.
And then little Jake saw it—a light. Far down the path, half ob
scured by trees, a torch was flaring. Then he saw another—and another!
He could hear voices now—men's voices, shouting to him to stay where
he was. The wolf heard those voices, too. He slunk off into the forest
and the howls of the advancing pack were stilled. In a few moments
a band of villagers came running up the trail. They had started comb
ing the forest when little Jake didn’t get home by nightfall—and they
had arrived just in time to insure his getting home at all.
(Released by Western Newspaper Union.)
U. S. Territories, Possessions Difficult to Define
It is difficult to define satisfac
torily the difference between a ter
ritory and a possession of the United
States. Alaska and Hawaii are, ac
cording to an official in the division
ol territories and island possessions,
full fledged territories of the United
States Puerto Rico is also a ter
ritory, but its finances are handled
in a slightly different way. In Alas
ka and Hawaii all of the internal
reyenue is collected and paid into
the United States treasury and ap
propriations made therefrom. In
ternal revenue of Puerto Rico is
collected and paid into a separate
fund. Under the Securities act the
term "territory” means Alaska. Ha
waii, the Philippine islands, Puerto
Rico, the Canal Zone, the Virgin
islands and insular possessions of
the United States. The Canal Zone
is administered by the war depart
ment. Several of the other is
lands are under the jurisdiction of
the navy department. The District
of Columbia is part of the United
States and is not a territory but a
district
-AMAZONS
Women Employed in New Role
As Men March to Battlefield
War is no longer a man’s busi
ness exclusively. The United
States is almost the only major
power which has not drafted
women to perform some mili
tary duty formerly left to men.
Women now fly, drive ambu
lances and carry rifles, ready to
take their places on the battle
field. Above: Two members of
England's womens ambulance
corps are shown in uniform as
they canvassed for recruits dur
ing London’s first national de
fense display. Later, when war
actually came, Britain’s women
took over many men’s jobs. At
right: One of the many women
Soviet Russia is training for air
defense work.
wrfzmnmw
mM <m OI l^V'
amir
During celebration of patri
otic days in Paris (above),
French women showed what
the women of the world favor
in the way of attire now that
war is here again. These wom
en are members of a home de
fense unit. At the left: Two
Turkish girl fliers who took
part in the flight of a squadron
of bombing planes from Istan
bul to the capitals of Europe
a few months ago. Command
ing the group is Lieut. Sabiha
Guektchen, adopted daughter
of the late President Ataturk.
ABOVE—Amazons in Europe and Asia. At left, unsmiling
young Italian women, uniformed and carrying bayoneted muskets,
prepare, for their coming life in the Italian colonies. At right, a
Chinese tvoman soldier camouflages herself.
Women troops of Albania—note subjects of Mussolini.
—
Blessed Are the
Poor in Spirit
88
Hy D. V. FAY
(McClure Syndicate—WNU Service.)
I
{ { r I ''OBY, we should be
I ashamed. I'll never for
J„ give myself, I know
that!"
"Forgive yourself for what?" Toby
Condor demanded menacingly.
“Forgive yourself for what?" He
was the richest man in town and
there were girls in Newkirk who
thought he was handsomest in a
menacing mood; handsome eyes
narrowed, dark face tempestuous,
his white teeth a crescent of scorn.
"For giving you the idea that you
could ...”
“Kiss you?" he finished derisive
ly. "And what’s wrong with that?
There wouldn’t have been anything
wrong last year; but now you’re en
gaged; is that it? Engaged to the
Reverend Warren Hollis; the high
spirited Reverend Warren. He loves
you; he’s going to marry you. But
tonight he's busy. He had to carry
a glass of jelly to a sick old lady, so
he lets me take you home. What’s
the matter with him anyway?
Doesn’t he know we were engaged
once? Didn’t he see anything to
night? He lets me take you home.
Look here, Caroline, are you going
through life with a solution of dish
water disguised as a minister? Are
you, Caroline—Darling?”
His dark face came closer, closer.
Caroline drew back, murmured
through a spasm of partial suffoca
tion:
"Toby! Don’t!” She tried to calm
herself, to talk with something like
composure.
“I suppose he thought we were to
be trusted, Toby. I suppose he—”
"He’s too good for this world,”
Toby said briefly; contemptuously.
"Look here, Caroline,” his tone
changed abruptly. "You’re marry
ing me; you may have other ideas
on the subject,” he pursued superb
ly, "but you may as well get rid of
them. You’re marrying me. When
I go after things, I get them. You
know that, don’t you, Caroline?
Don’t you?”
“Toby!”
Doubtfully and reluctantly, she
consulted her sister the next day.
They were arranging their moth
er’s old-fashioned living room for
the junior charity bridge club.
“I know I’m not in love with Toby,
Gwen. When I’m in a sensible mood
I keep telling myself that Toby Con
dor could drive any woman crazy.
I haven’t any illusions about him.
But I don’t know. There’s some
thing Toby has that I miss in War
ren. Warren’s so calm. Oh, it’s
exasperating. You can’t know what
I mean, Gwen. Warren never loses
his temper. Never!”
“And you like volcanoes,” her sis
ter said. “Perhaps you’d better take
Toby, Caroline. I don’t know many
bad-tempered ministers.”
“Gwen, suppose I were to marry
Toby.”
Suppose you were to— Gwen
stopped, dumbfounded.
She stood there, absently pleating
a lace paper napkin. “It’s gone
that far, has it?”
“No. No, honestly, Gwennie,”
said Caroline, ashamed, “I just
meant that I don’t get a chance to
think when I'm with Toby. He’s so
quick! Oh, I love Warren, I do love
him, but he's so calm. I would like
it if I weren’t always sure just what
Warren will do next.”
“Well, no woman will ever be too
sure of Toby,” her sister said dryly.
“No. No woman ever will,” Car
oline agreed. "You don’t know how
much easier it’s made things, talk
ing them over with you. I could
have mulled over them for hours by
myself. Well, I know now,” she
said seriously, “that I’m willing to
take Warren, whatever he does and
whatever he is. Don’t you think I’ll
make a nice sweet wife for a mild
young minister, huh, Gwennie?”
Her sister laughed.
“Yes, I do. But I wouldn’t see
any more than I could help of the
very honorable Toby.”
“Oh, I won’t. I simply won’t see
him any more. He's going to phone
today, he said. Well, if he does, he
never will again.”
They were silent.
And then the imperative shrill of
| the telephone rioted through the
quiet.
“Well,” Gwen said challengingly.
Quickly and rigid with determina
tion, Caroline went to the telephone.
“Toby?” She was confused, deaf
ened. Her blood pounded. “Listen
to me, Toby. It took me 12 hours
to figure out that you did a despica
ble. dishonorable thing last night.
It’s going to take me 12 seconds
to tell you, you aren’t getting a
chance to repeat it. You don’t un
derstand, Toby’’ I think you do. And
in the light of what happened, I
think it’s impudence for you to
phone me and sheer spinelessness
for me to be answering.”
She came away from the phone
grim, panting, satisfied.
"I feel better about Warren some
how,” she admitted. “I feel almost
as if I’d told him all about it.”
The morning gave place to after
noon. Caroline’s bridge club came
and went. And with the soft spring
dusk a wispy summer rain came
and danced da ntily upon the win
dows. While Caroline was sitting in
the fire-lit half darkness of the liv
ing room, the phone rang again. She
answered it and heard, with a happy
tightening of her throat, the voice
of the Reverend Warren Hollis.
“Caroline,” (she could almost see
his serious, spectacled young face
while she listened to his slow good
humored voice,) “I just noticed that
it’s raining. Be sure and wear your
rubbers tonight.”
Caroline laughed.
She would wear her rubbers.
Would he come to supper? No, he
couldn’t. Some Sunday School boys
had spilled ink all over his books,
the Reverend Warren said cheer
fully; he must clean up the mess.
“For goodness’ sake!” cried Caro
line, exasperated, “don’t you ever
get mad?"
She put down the phone and
smiled into the darkness.
What did she care if he didn’t!
She loved him.
“Caroline!” It was her father’s
voice with a strange urgency in it
that brought Caroline blinking into
the brightly lighted hall.
“What is it?” she asked breath
lessly, sensing something she could
not define.
“Caroline, did you know that Toby
Condor is in the hospital?”
“Toby! Dad, he didn’t try to—to
kill himself?” she asked, trembling.
“He didn’t, did he, Dad?”
"Kill himself?” He eyed her keen
ly. “No. He isn’t badly hurt. Had
his face pretty well smashed and
lost two teeth; that’s^all.”
The front hall dipped and reeled.
Her father’s head swam around in
a green mixture full of the front
stairs and the picture frames as well
as the paternal head.
“Who?” she asked. “Why?”
“The Reverend Warren Hollis did
it,” he said. “And we want to know
why. His housekeeper says that he
called our number this morning and
asked for you. He listened to you
for a few minutes,” her father con
tinued impressively, “without say
ing much, if anything. After which,
he dashed from the house and com
mitted this assault upon Toby Con
dor.”
“Warren phoned me this morn
ing,” she muttered over a thudding
chest; with dawning understanding.
“There’ll be trouble over this Car
oline,” the man said heavily.
"Oh, it’s awful,” she whispered
seriously. But a strange, not en
tirely appropriate joy was seeping
through her.
Early Scholars Created
Little Demand for Paper
In the early days of King Tut
Ankh-Amen—and after—there was
little enough need for paper.
It was a rare scholar who could
read his hieroglyphics, and a rarer
one who could write them. And so
a little paper was sufficient for a
long time.
But in those days paper, like ev
erything else, was made by hand.
Indeed, it was made by hand for
centuries, but while so little of it
was required, the limited amount
a skilled workman could make in a
day was adequate.
Gradually, however, things
changed, and after several centuries
had settled the dust over Tut-Ankh
Amen’s royal tomb, paper had be
come a more or less necessary part
of civilization.
By the time the Nineteenth cen
tury had rolled around, the demand
for cheap and abundant paper was
so urgent that machines for its man
ufacture were invented. Today,
those machines have been so
changed and perfected that they can
produce tons of paper in a day.
Of course, the most abundantly
made paper nowadays is cheap
newsprint paper. A single edition
of any large daily newspaper actual
ly requires tons of paper.
Newsprint paper—which is the
poorest of all qualities of paper—is
merely mashed and ironed wood
pulp. Many kinds of logs are used,
the best sorts having little resin in
them.
The logs are ground into mush,
the wood fibers float off loosely sep
arated in the water and are caught
on a wire screen. The function of
the paper machine is to dry and iron
the wet, thin layer of pulp into sheets
of paper, by means of hot rollers.
But the better grades of paper are
made by dissolving out, with various
chemicals, all of the impurities, like
resin, in the wood until only the
fiber remains. Spruce, balsam and
hemlock are the best woods for this
purpose.
In former years, old rags were
used in the manufacture of the best
paper, but now wood fiber has been
successfully substituted for them.
Straw, cornstalks, flax, bamboo and
many other fibers are more and
more taking the place of the pulp
of forest trees in the manufacture
of paper, which is one of the five
largest industries of America.
That Traveling Pink Bollworm
The pink bollworm, described by
U. S. cotton producers as a worse
pest than the boll weevil, is a globe
trotting insect. Recognized as a
cotton enemy in the East nearly 100
years ago, its original home is be
lieved to be India and possibly
southern Asia in general. Around
the beginning of the Twentieth cen
tury, it was brought to Egypt from
India in large seed-cotton imports,
and has since spread widely. Its
present known range includes much
of Africa, Siam, the Straits Settle
ments, China, Korea, the Philip
pines, Hawaii, the West Indies, and
Australia. Brazil and Mexico are
recent fields for the worm’s depre
dations. In the United States Texas,
Arizona, and New Mexico play un
willing hosts to the insect, with Flor
ida’s wild cotton lately added to its
victims.
STOVE & FURNACE REPAIRS
RPPAIRC for any stove
ntrHIng FURNACE or BOILER
Prompt Shipments Since 1881
Order Through Your Doalor
OMAHA 1TOVI RIPAIR WORKS
AUCTIONS
IXT “**ELVIE’» SATURDAY LIVE
STOCK Auctions, Council Bluff*, Iowa.
Live Stock Commission
BYERS BROS & CO.
A Real Live Stock Com. Firm
At the Omaha Market
Simple Scrap Quilt
Is Colorful and Gay
Pattern 2216
Out of your scrap bag, like
magic, come all these colorful dog
patches so simple to cut and ap
ply! Make a gay quilt, pillow or
scarf or all three to add charm
to your room. Pattern 2216 con
tains accurate pattern pieces; dia
gram of block; instructions for
cutting, sewing and finishing;
yardage chart; diagram of quilt.
Send 15 cents in coins for this
pattern to The Sewing Circle, Nee.
dlecraft Dept., 82 Eighth Ave.,
New York.
Please write your name, ad
dress and pattern number plamly.
INDIGESTION
Sensational Relief from Indigestion
and One Dote Proves It
If the Urn dose of this pleaasnt-taitlng little
black tablet doesn't bring you the faatest and moat
complete relief yon have experienced send bottle
back to ua and get DOUBLE MONEY BACK. Thle
Bell-ans tablet helpa the itomach dlgeit food,
makes the excess stomach fluids harmless and lets
iau eat the nourishing foods you need. For heart
urn, sick headache and upsets so often caused by
excess stomach fluids making you feel sour and
sick aU over—JUST ONE DOSE of Bell-ana proves
speedy relief. 25c everywhere.
Father of Independence
In the end injustice produces in
dependence.—Voltaire.
How Women
in Their 40’s
Can Attract Men
Here’s good advice for a vomin during her
change (usually from 38 to 62), who fears
she’ll lose her appeal to men, who worries
about hot flashes, loss of pep, dizzy spells, ‘
upset nerves and moody spells.
Get more fresh air, 8 nra. sleep and if you
need a good general system tonic take Lydia
E. PinkhamrB Vegetable Compound, made
etpeciaUy for women. It helps Nature build
up physical resistance, thus helps givs mors
vivacity to enjoy life and assist calming
jittery nerves and disturbing symptoms that
often accompany change of life. WELL 4
WORTH TRYING!
Despair Final
Despair is the only genuine athe
ism.—Jean Paul.
■ iTrMikjti
"Cap-Brush"Applicator ,
TT^^^^WKSamakes"BLACK LEAF 40^
JUai * GO MUCH FARTHSA
PASH IN FEATHERSTX
- ■ 1
WNU—U38—39
BUREAU OF
STANDARDS
• A BUSINESS
organization which wants
to get the most for the
money sets up standards
by which to judge what
is offered to it, just as in
Washington the govern
ment maintains a Bureau
of Standards.
• You can have your own
Bureau of Standards, too.
Just consult the advertis
ing columns of your news
paper. They safeguard
your purchasing power
every day of every year.
