THE STORY SO FAR: Bound for the
Chibougamau gold country, six men lost
their lives on the Nottaway river. Red
Malone, Garrett Finlay, brother of one
of the six, and Blaise, half-breed guide,
arrive at Nottaway posing as surveyors.
* * *
INSTALLMENT FOUR
They find the Nottaway settlement peo
ple strangely averse to discussing the
tragedies. The name of Isadora, rich
fur man, when brought by Finlay,
causes an immediate cessation of furth
er conversation along that line. Isadore,
******
It Is thought, has made a gold strike
and aims to keep prospectors out. Fin
lay and Blaise are wounded In an am- 1
bush on the Nottaway. Proceeding, they
saw a band of Indians approaching in
their canoes.
* *. it
As the approaching canoe neared
the Peterboro Garry said: “It’s a
birchbark, as you said, Blaise. We’ll
•top for a talk. Ask them if they
ever saw any of the white men who
have passed through here bound for
Chibougamau.”
The birchbark in the distance
moved in an uncertain course to
ward the Peterboro.
‘‘What’s the matter with those
birds?” demanded Red. "Never saw
Indians travel in a zig-zag like that.
They’re always too saving of their
elbow grease.”
"Nor I,” agreed the curious Fin
lay. "They’re yawing all over the
lake.”
As he paddled Blaise was slowly
nodding his black head, at the aire
dale who lay at his knees. "Flame,”
he said with a chuckle, "w’at you
t’ink de matter wid dose Injuns corn
in’ in dat cano’, eh?”
The airedale looked into Bras
sard’s swart face with its twinkling
eyes.
"If you keep your mout’ shut, I
tell you. Flame,” laughed Blaise.
"Now don’t say notin’ to Garry and
Red. Dose Injuns cornin’ in dat ca
no’ bin up to have a look at M’sieu’
Isadora and he give dem somet’in’
dat come in a bottle.”
“By golly! You’re right, Blaise!”
Garry threw back from the bow.
"It looks like Isadore’s fire-water.”
The canoes were soon within hail
ing distance and Blaise called:
“Kekway!” The Montagnais and
Cree salutation.
He was answered by a chorus of
"Kekways” from the birchbark, in
which sat two men, a squaw and a
child. The eyes of the men were
bloodshot and swollen. As the canoes
•topped alongside of each other
Blaise began a rapid questioning.
Shortly he turned a face black with
anger and disgust and announced
to the curious Garry and Red:
"Dey are Matagami hunter but
dey go to Isadore to trade dere win
ter hunt for fur, instead of de Hud
son Bay, becuz he sell dem whiskey.
But only half dey trade for flour,.
sugar and tea dey will need. De
rest dey trade for whiskey.”
The muscles of Finlay’s face tight
ened as he asked: “Did they see any
of the men who went through bound
for Chibougamau?”
“No,” answered Blaise, "dey see
no white man pass tru de lake last
two year.”
Brassard talked rapidly lor some
time while the Montagnais grew ex
cited, often interrupting him.
“What is it?” demanded Garry.
“Dey say dere is moch talk at
Waswanipi. Dere is troubl’ between
Chief Wabistan and a shaman by
name of Kinebik. Dis Kinebik is
fr’en’ of Tete-Blanche. Chief Wab
istan fight wid Tete-Blanche at the
trade ovair whiskey he give to In
jun. Dey say dat de Injun like de
whiskey and are scare of Tete
Blanche. He is ver’ bad fallar. Dey
are scare of Isadore, al-so. Dey are
scare of de big bird from de sout’."
“Big bird from the south?”
“Ah-hah! It come tru de sky from
de sout’, each summer. Dey are
ver’ moch scare of it.”
"Airplane, eh? So he has a plane
come from the south every sum
mer? That, Red, is the way he
brings in his whiskey.”
“Sure as you live, bossi Have these
people ever seen the plane, Blaise?”
“No, but oders have and dey tell
strange story.”
“Ask them if Batoche, with the
scarred face, and Flambeau have
reached Isadore’s post.”
Blaise put the question and after
a lengthy answer, from the talkative
Montagnais, replied: “Dey say dat
Batoche and Flambeau reach Was
wanipi w’ile dey trade de fur. Wan
night, Batoche, he get drunk, and he
say: ‘Tree man wid dog leave de
steel for Chibougamau Trail, but de
Long Sault of de Nottaway swallow
dem. Batoche he say he saw de big
wood cano’ of white man all stove
up below rapid and wan drown man
on shore.”
Blaise grinned widely as he con
tinued: “But dis Montagnais, here
in de bow, his name is Mahigan, de
wolf, say dat we are free men
with dog in wooden cano’, and wan
wid bullet mark on hees head, and
he ask me if we run de Long Sault. I
say we did, for sure, and are live
man, al-so. Den he say dat Batoche
is ver’ damn liar. I tell him dat
Batoche is worse dan liar. He is
dead man if I evair put my hand
on him. Mahigan say dere is too
many man at Isadore for free man
to fight. We bettair go home.”
“What was your answer?” de
manded Garry.
“I say dat we hear dat Waswanipi
is ver’ fine lake and Isadore ver’
fine man and we go take a look
at dem bot’."
“Okay!” laughed Garry. “Well,
let’s go!”
CHAPTER V
Flanked by hills somber with the
olive green of spruce-splashed by
the lighter hardwoods, the great
Waswanipi Lake blazed like a floor
of fire in the afternoon sun. The Pe
terboro rounded a long point and the
maple blades trailed.
“There it is!” exclaimed Finlay.
“Let’s have a look at Monsieur Isa
dore’s outfit!” He raised his binocu
lars and gazed curiously at the group
of buildings on the distant shore.
“Why, Red, he’s got living quarters
fit for a king! Have a squint!"
Malone took the proffered glasses
and studied the fur post miles across
the burnished lake at the foot of a
ridge of black spruce. “Fanciest log
job I’ve seen east of the Rockies!”
muttered Red.
Shortly Blaise returned the glasses
with a grunt. “Ah-hah! Big place!
Some day fox bark in dat clearin’
and h’owl nest in de chimney."
“They will,” agreed Finlay, "if
we’re worth our salt. See that group
of islands about a mile offshore?
We’ll camp right there, leave Blaise
and Flame, and, like polite survey
ors in the bush, pay a call on Isa
dore.”
“Come on!" urged Red, making
the water boil behind his paddle.
“This job begins to look interest
ing.”
After a clean-up and shave Finlay
and Malone left Blaise at their camp
on the island and started for the post
less than a mile distant. As they
approached the shore the log resi
dence of the trader compelled their
admiration.
The stir of people in the post clear
ing indicated that the approach of
the Peterboro was creating unusual
interest. In front of the big log
house a group of three were level
ing glasses on the approaching boat
“He’s got living quarters fit
for a king!”
Down at the landing men were evi
dently discussing the strangers. Gar
ry raised his binoculars. “Two wom
en in sporting togs, Red, giving us
the once over! The man with them
must be his highness. Czar Isadore,
of Waswanipi.”
“A bird just left the landing," ex
claimed Malone, “and called Isa
dore away from the women! By the
way he’s waving his arms he's hav
ing an argument. Now he’s gone
back. Did you notice it?”
“Do you know who that was?”
“N*>.”
"That was Batoche. I spotted him
by his walk.”
“The scar-faced rat!”
“We’ll check up before we land,”
said Finlay, casing his glasses.
“You’ve got extra shells in your
pocket and the spare gun on your
hip?”
“O-kay!”
“No identifying papers! Not a
scrap to show who we are?”
“Check!”
“Our orders are to map this chain
of big lakes, then the lower Notta
way, joining the main party in Sep
tember.”
“Right!”
“Now we haven’t scratched the
surface of this situation. So far it’s
been pure guesswork. We believe
we’re dealing with a coldblooded
killer and a clever one. When we
land here today to buy flour and ba
con, what is he going to do? Batoche
has told him that he wiped us out
in the Long Sault. So our appear
ance has whipsawed him. That was
probably the cause of the argument
we noticed just now on the shore.
Isadore’s a worried man for he’s
in a jam with Ottawa if any of us
get out alive.”
“I’ll say he’s worried,” agreed
Red.
“If Batoche tells him what hap
pened at the railroad, he knows
we’ll suspect that scar-faced crook.
Although we can’t tie Isadore up
personally with that ambush, he
realizes we can make it hot for
him, for Batoche is his man.”
Red nodded gravely as he studied
his freckled fist.” To save his ba
con,” he said, “three more men
have got to disappear on the Chi
bougamau Trail.”
“That's the picture, Red.”
“He’ll ask us to supper; that’s
certain. He’ll want to look us over
before he makes his plans.”
“We’ll do some mindreading, our
selves. Then, after tonight, it's a
case of wolf eat-wolf, our brains
and our luck against his.’* Finlay’s
face grew bitter as he stared across
the miles of quiet water to a blue
ridge. “He got Bob! I’m going to
get him!”
The Peterboro slid in to the stony
beach where two men now awaited
its coming. Up at the trade-house
others watched while the girls in
front of the house laughed as they
talked.
“Welcome to Waswanipi, gentle
men!” A man of medium height
with a black moustache and hair
graying at the temples of a hawk
like face advanced with outstretched
hand as Garry and Red left the
canoe. “We see so few white men
here that your visit is an event I
am Jules Isadore. This is my head
man, Pierre Labelle.”
“I’m Finlay, in charge of the sur
vey,” said Garry, shaking hands
with the two men. “My assistant,
Neil Malone! We need flour and ba
con, Mr. Isadore. I suppose you
can sell us some?”
The eyes of the two clashed in a
look of mutual appraisement. "De
lighted to, Mr. Finlay, and you’ll
join us at dinner? It will be a treat
to my wife and daughter to talk to
two handsome young men from the
outside.”
Garry laughed. “If the ladies will
pardon our woolen shirts and bush
clothes, we’ll be glad to accept your
hospitaliiy, Mr. Isadore. You have
a magnificent place here,” he ob
served.
“The marten and black fox did it,"
Isadore answered. "We beat the
Hudson’s Bay at their own game.
It’s been a gold mine.”
A gold mine! Garry’s blood heat
ed with his sudden anger. Was Isa
dore fishing—trying to draw him out
so early? He watched from the tail
of his eye the wooden face of Isa
dore’s head man as he threw out:
“Speaking of gold, they tell me
there’s a big rush on for the Chibou
gamau.” But Labelle’s face was va
cant of expression.
“So I hear,” replied Isadore. "Last
year and the year before some poor
fellows tried to get in by the Was
wanipi but were drowned. Bad riv
er that!”
“You’re a cool proposition, Isa
dore,” thought Garry. Then he said:
“Yes, so your man Batoche told me
at the railroad.”
As Garry limped beside him, Isa
dore commented: “Hurt your leg?"
"Yes, slipped on a rock and twist
ed my knee!”
loo bad! Then Isadore s face
lit as they reached the waiting girls.
“Well, here’s what makes life pos
sible at Waswanipi. Corinne, this
is Mr. Finlay and Mr. Malone, on
the government survey. My wife,
gentlemen, and my daughter, Lise.”
Garrett Finlay was startled by the
dark beauty of the two girls.
“Welcome to Waswanipi, Meestair
Feenlay and Meestair—what was it?
—Malone” said the elder and
smaller of the two with a slight ac
cent as she extended her hand with
a thrust of smoldering eyes.
Red Malone beamed like a boy
with a new toy into Corinne Isa
dore’s vivacious face, framed by a
blue-black bob.
“What a break for two bored fe
males!” As Lise gave him her firm
hand, Finlay felt that he had never
looked into a lovelier face or one
more baffling. “Corinne and I were
about ready to call it a summer in
this fly-infested bush and scram, if
Jules would send us.” Her short
upper lip curled as she archly add
ed: “But if you’re going to survey
the lake we might—”
“Might stay awhile if you prove
as nice as you look!” There was
frank challenge in her brilliant eyes.
“I like your smile, Mr. Surveyor,”
Miss Isadore surprised him with.
“Your teeth are flawless, aren’t
they? And how you know it! You
have cute, crinkly hair and swell
shoulders and, doubtless leave a trail
of wailing women behind wherever
you operate. But—” her eyes sud
denly clouded, “I’d have you know
that my name is not Isadore. He
married my mother when I was very
young. My name is Lise Demarais."
Garry raised a hand in protest.
“Instead of an engineer who spends
most of his time in the bush,” he
laughed, “you suggest I’m a lounge
lizard. I object to the title. But I’ll
forgive you. Lise Demarais,” he
repeated, studying her vivid face
with its warm undertone of color.
“It’s somehow like you.”
Suddenly she grew silent while his
eyes furtively sought the ripples of
her dusky hair, the short nose with
its delicate nostrils and the sensitive,
full-lipped mouth. He had a feeling
that her gaiety had been forced—
that she was under a strain. Had
he and Red walked into a trap and
did Lise know it?
They reached the house and with
a wave of the hand Lise joined
Corinne Isadore. Finlay watched
the lithe figure of the girl disappear
through the door. Had his judgment
been wrong? Was Jules Isadore
planning something for that evening
and did she know it?
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Fashion Advocates Lavish Use
Of Fur in a Variety of Ways
By CHERIE NICHOLAS
FASHION is most eloquently “say
ing it” with furs this season. Ac
cording to the signs there is going
to be a most grand and glorious
display of furs this winter both as
trimming and as coat or cape en
sembles of sumptuous fur. Almost
everything in the way of matching
accessories that can be made of
fur is being made of fur; hats,
gloves, handbags, separate neck
pieces, detachable plastron fronts,
and lapel gadgets of bows and bou
tonnieres.
Milliners are giving of their best
in creating fur hats matched to
coats, to jackets, or to the trim
ming on one’s gown and wrap.
The favor for browns has placed
extra emphasis on the importance
of mink. There's exciting fashion
news in the sumptuous mink coat
shown above to the right in the il
lustration. It is topped by a hat
made glorious by a wide brim (huge
fur hats will be worn this winter)
of matching mink.
The young woman centered above
in the picture is snappishly turned
out in an ensemble of gray Chinese
kidskin, the fingertip-length coat
fashioned along very youthful lines.
The insistent call for sleek black
by fashion sophisticates keeps Per
sian lamb and elegant broadtail in
the limelight again this season.
Royally luxurious is the broadtail
ensemble shown in the upper left
corner. Here a slim svelte princess
coat demonstrates how up-to-the
minute is the styling given to furs
this season. The hat is one of those
new tall effects so definitely in style.
Its graceful feather trim is Kelly
green for added color.
Fur capes are definitely some
thing to talk about, for they are in
the very foreground of the current
fashion picture. The gorgeous cape
lower right, is of lustrous black
Persian lamb. The new rule for a
black wrap worn with a color-bright
dress is faithfully observed. The
pretty, softly styled frock is in the
widely sponsored new gold tone.
For daytime wear nothing ex
ceeds leopard in chic, unless it be
American opossum, which is also
playing a star role. You will be
perfectly tuned to the grandstand
picture if you attend the game in
a coat of leopard at lower left.
It is a fashionable, three-quarter
length style with a stand-up collar
and bracelet - length sleeves — all
very youthful and destined for an
eye-smashing entry into any smart
gathering.
A most extraordinary develop
ment in fur styling this season is
the working of glittering embroidery
on the lapels and collars of fur coats.
The new fur capes are sometimes
embroidered with a hem line bor
dering for evening. Brown sequins
worked on mink hats, jet motifs on
either black or white furs or metal
thread embroidery punctuated with
glistening jewels give to furs an en
tirely different aspect. Many of the
most staid and conservative coats
are bursting into glory with gleam
ing jeweled buttons.
(Released by Western Newspaper Union.)
Grandma’s Buttons
Make Style News
Dig into grandma's button box,
and you may find hidden treasures
that will cause your winter gowns
and coats to soar to heights of sar
torial glory. Better still, trek around
to the button counters and see what
a splurge buttons are making in
the fashion realm.
Two important trends register in
the button field, one of which is the
inclination toward bulkiness. But
tons are sometimes massive and
knobby. Also, the new buttons tell
a grand and glorious color study.
You, with everyone else, are going
to wear a great deal more color
this year than you did last, and ac
cordingly button originals are keep
ing pace with the color commotion.
Plastic buttons are available in a
full range of costume colors. A but
ton that makes an interesting ac
cent on frock or blouse is a molded
plastic done in a flower design with
nailhead detail. Fresh fashion in
terest is also developing in filigree
buttons. A gold filigree button is
proving especially attractive for
dress-up blouses and party frocks.
In fact, metal buttons rank high in
favor, whatever the type.
Glitter is popular, and lovely
rhinestone buttons flourish on wools,
velveteens, dressy crepes, and the
newest fashion note is rhinestone or
other jeweled buttons on fur coats
and jackets.
Woolies Defy the Chill
Breath of Jack Frost
Farmers can prognosticate and
their signs are unfailing. It’s
“ditto” with fashion. Well, from
all fashion indications, we will see
wool mittens; long wool socks (sheer
wool for daytime hose); heads done
up in wool wimples; huge fur hats
and muffs as extravagantly big. All
will valiantly fulfill their mission of
comfort and smart appearance
when winter brings on its usual
quota of days with a sharp tang.
Possum on Wool
American opossum is a flattering,
young-looking fur when it trims
swank town and country tweeds. II
carries a message of style prestige
wherever it goes, and this year
fashion’s spotlight is showing it up
more conspicuously than ever. In
the picture we see American opos
sum accentuating the straight sil
houette of a hunter’s green wool
coat. Three bands of the fur around
the bottom of the skirt, and a flat
tering ripple collar of this fur, add
distinction to the pencil-slim coat.
The ripple-brim fine felt hat is de
tailed with stitching.
Camp Cavalcade
SHADOWY figures In a cavalcade
of American history—snch as the
men behind the names of the great
army cantonments scattered all
over the United States, where young
Americans are learning to be sol
diers in order to defend their coun
try when the need arises.
Near Watsonville, Calif., is the
only camp named for an army chap
Joseph P.
McQuaide
lain—Father Jos
eph P. McQuaide,
who served as
chaplain for the
corps in the Phil
ippines from 1899
to 190 0, was
drafted into the
federal service
August 5, 1917,
went overseas
and served there
until December,
1918, Commis
sioned a major in
1922, he became
regimental chaplain ol the 25Utn
coast artillery, a position which he
held when he died in Los Angeles,
March 29, 1924.
Camp Barkeley, near Abilene,
Texas, is named for private David
B. Barkeley (1898-1918) of Company
A, 365th infantry, Eighty-ninth divi
sion, f who was awarded, posthu
mously, the Congressional Medal of
Honor ‘‘for conspicuous gallantry
and intrepidity, above and beyond
the call of duty, in action with the
enemy near Pouilly, France, No
vember 8, 1918.” Barkeley respond
ed to a call for volunteers to swim
across the River Meuse to recon
noiter enemy positions, secured the
desired information but was drowned
while returning.
California also has a camp near
San Miguel, named for a soldier
who was awarded, posthumously, a
Congressional Medal of Honor. He
was Corp. Harold W. Roberts (1899
1918) of Company A, 344th battalion,
tank corps, who, when the tank
which he was driving slid into a
shell-hole, 10 feet deep and filled
with water, gave up his chance to
escape, pushed his gunner through
the back door of the tank and was
himself drowned.
Camp Davis, at Holly Ridge, N
C. , honors a North Carolinian, Maj.
Gen. Richmond Pearson Davis
(1866-1937), chief of artillery of the
Ninth corps of the A.E.F. and win
ner of the D.S.M.
Camp Croft, near Spartanburg. S.
C., is named for South Carolina’s
Maj. Gen. Edward Croft (1875-1938),
who came out of the World war as a
colonel with two decorations, the
Silver Star and the Purple Heart,
rose through the grades to major
general and was made chief of in
fantry of the army in 1933.
Camp Williams, near Sparta. Wis.,
bears the name of a Pennsylvania
born journalist
who, after work
ing on newspa
pers in Missouri,
became a foreign
c orrespondent
and gave up that
career to become
first lieutenant
with the 128th
machine gun bat
talion of the A.E.
F. He is MaJ.
Gen. John F. Wil
liams, who be
came a colonel in
John F.
Williams
uie Missouri national uuaru in
and is now chief of the National
Guard bureau of the war depart
ment in Washington.
Camp Wolters, near Mineral
Wells, Texas, recalls the services of
Brig. Gen. Jacob F. Wolters of Hou
ston, who organized the Texas cav
alry during the World war and after
wards recruited a regiment of cav
alry in New Mexico to complete the
brigade. Later he was placed in
command of the Fifty-sixth cavalry
brigade of the Texas National Guard
and he is said to be the only man
ever awarded a service medal of
appreciation, given by an act of the
legislature of the Lone Star state.
Camp Blanding, near Starke, Fla.,
bears the name of Maj. Gen. Albert
H. Blanding, born in Iowa in 1876,
| commander of the Thirty-first
("Dixie”) division of the A.E.F. and
until his retirement in 1940, chief of
the National Guard bureau of the
war department.
Camp Hulen near Palacios, Texas,
honors Brig. Gen. John A. Hulen,
who won the D.S.M. for services
during the Meuse-Argonne offensive
in October, 1918.
Camp Wallace, near Hitchcock,
Texas, honors the memory of Col.
Elmer J. Wallace of South Dakota
who was killed in France on Novem
ber 5, 1918, at which time he was
a major (temporary colonel) in the
coast artillery corps.
Mood of the American Soldiers
"It is a stoical determination to
see the thing through. They have
entered this war after reading of it
for three years. They know its hor
rors. In this they are unlike the
men of any nation whom circum
stances rushed into war, as into an
unknown adventure. Our men know
this war; they followed it in the
press since its outbreak. They are
going in, dogged and grim; theirs
is a solid courage—which is the
most sublime.”—Capt. E. L. Fox,
in Forum magazine, January, 1918.
More cakes, yes; but better
cakes, too. You save when yon
buy Clabber Girl and then, the
light and flavorful tenderness
of your cakes and pastries gives
you added pride and satisfaction
in your baking. Clabber Girl
means Bigger value when you
buy. Better results when you
bake. You’ll be surprised when
your grocer tells you Clabber
Girl’s price. You’ll be delighted
with your baking Tesults.
Worst Fraud
The first and worst of all frauds
is to cheat one’s self.—Bailey.
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