The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965, December 11, 1941, Image 3

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    Vanished Men
WM.U. Service
Finlay receives am anonymous I'tter
iittntiii that the six men were not
drowned a* reported. Suspicion prevails
that Isadore, rich tar man. has made a
told strike and aims to keep prospectors
owl of the country at any cost. The three
men start oat oa the NOttawa?, tad
visit Isadora la Us magnificent home
where they meet Use, Us pretty atep
daoghter. la response to her desperate
plea lor aid, Finlay meets her secretly.
Alter she left, gonmea attack him.
i‘*Sbe was so naturaL" Finlay
groaned, inwardly, "so terrible real!
And her story seemed so straight
But that was Just die bait to catch
the mouse' Poor Red and Blaise!
What have I done to them?”
With a shiver he brushed her from
his thoughts. Shame and chagrin
vanished. With his .45 covering the
direction of the last sound it was
another man who lay there, a cold
fighting man who waited like a cor
nered wolverine for a movement in
the scrub.
Evidently, from the fact that they
had not shot him on the beach, their
intention was to take him alive.
Brush snapped behind him. His
eyes flashed back but saw nothing.
They bad him surrounded but could
not reach him without drawing his
fire so were playing safe. For min
utes he lay rigid, listening.
Presently his roving eyes caught
the green plumes of a young spruce
shivering as if touched by wind.
But there was no wind. The spruce
top moved into the notched rear
sight of the 45. Again the spruce
quivered and Finlay glimpsed a pair
of glittering eyes in a swart face.
Like glass splintered by a hammer,
the “b-rang!” of the .45 crashed on
the silence of the bush.
There was no face behind the
“One gone!” Finlay muttered.
Inching swiftly around to cover his
He was just in time. From behind
the boD of a Jack-pine, eyes roved
the undergrowth seeking his posi
tion. Finlay lined his sights. Then
the full face and a shoulder edged
Into view.
Again the forest rocked with the
thunder of the .45. There was a
scream followed by a stillness so in
tense it hurt the ear-drums. Then
the liquid notes of a chickadee broke
the spell
‘Two gone!**
But the jaws of the trap were
closing on the bunted man. His fir
ing had marked his position He
must move. Quick! Flat on his chest
he hunched to the sanctuary of an
other spruce.
From three sides came the snap
ping of twigs as the hunters closed
in on the hidden quarry. The eyes
of the trapped man blazed with the
fighting flame of a beast at bay.
His nerves were ice as he knelt,
watching in three directions for the
rush that was coming.
Suddenly there were yells and a
thrashing in the brush. But the con
cealed man would not be stampeded
into showing himself. Then a ring
of men simultaneously rushed a few
yards, to fade, flattened to the
earth. But one never moved again.
A slug from the .45 had drilled his
"Three gone!” .
•They’re close in, now!” muttered
Finlay. "The next one will reach
Then five men flung themselves
at him. He found the white head of
Tete-Blanche and the .45 flamed.
Again it roared. They reached him
and he fired point-blank into a grim
acing face. The face burst into a
bloody mask. With his heavy gun
he bludgeoned a black head that
dove at him. Free, he stumbled
back and swung at another. As he
did there was a blinding flash of
light in his eyes. He sagged to his
knees, then to the earth.
At intervals, in Finlay’s brain
flickered a dim consciousness of his
surroundings. Through blurred
thoughts filtered the sound of voices,
only to die away. For, time and
again, the dull pounding in his head
drove him back into the abyss. But
gradually he groped his way through
the mental twilight and was aware
of his splitting head and of an in
definable torture. Sharp pains sliced
through his upper arms and legs. He
tried to move but his hands and feet
were numb. Something held him
like a vise.
With difficulty Finlay peered
through the cracks between his
puffed eyelids. He was on the lip
of a bog, lashed to a trimmed spruce
sapling. For a time he stared stu
pidly at the four men with rifles
watching him. Then, into his dazed
brain shot the memory of the fight
on the shore. So they had clubbed
him from behind? It seemed long
ago—very long ago.
They had him lashed hand and
foot with rawhide thongs, the vic
tim of clouds of black flies that
hovered around him like smoke.
What would they do? Shoot him or
leave him to be stung to death by
the flies and mosquitoes? Men had
died that way in swamps. He heard
again the crash of his .45, and his
tortured lips twisted in a smile. It
had been a fight while it lasted.
He’d got three — perhaps four.
They’d remember that! But the man
he wanted, whom he’d promised Bob
he'd get, stood there with a leer on
his hideous face under its thatch of
yellowish-white hair. He'd missed
Tete-Blanche. Beside him were Ba
toche and two others, one a bow
legged dwarf with the darting eyes
of a mink—Tetu.
*'How you like fly, surveyor?"
taunted Tete-Blanche. “Mosquit' be
start to make bees music, soon, and
you swell up like poison dog."
There was laughter from the three
Finlay’s face, neck and arms were
stippled with blood On his head was
a lump left by the clubbed gun. His
eyes were almost closed
••You win!” Finlay groaned "You
win, now, but tell Isadore that a po
lice plane is due here from Ottawa
in September. Mounted Police! Ever
hear of them? You win. now. but
you'll hang before the snow flies!
Think that over!"
The four breeds exchanged star
tled looks. Then Tete-Blanche stood
over the man lashed to the spruce.
The feral eyes in his grotesque face
with its broken nose glittered. Fin
lay had seen such eyes in a trapped
wolf. “Tree good men you shoot!”
he snarled “Now you pay for
A wave of exultation beat through
the man who was about to die. He
had made them pay. Death held
little terror. He had looked it full
in the eyes before. But in the slow
hours of unspeakable torture that
awaited him be faced an end of
which he had never dreamed An
icy sweat burst from his body. But
what lay in his heart these men
should never see. He squinted
through the slits which were now his
What would they do?
eyes at the venomous face of Tete
Blanche and said:
“I wanted you, handsome, for my
self! Now the rope’ll get you. It’s
too bad to soil an honest rope!”
Tete-Blanche thrust his leering
face close to Finlay’s. The pupils
of his eyes dilated like those of a
snake. "You get de kiss from fly
and mosquit’, now, not de woman!”
he jeered. “Bonsoir, M’sieu’ Feen
lee!” He made a mocking bow. "We
see you in de mornin’! You swell
up good by den! Look like beeg fat
man! Bo’-jo’, M’sieu’ Feenlee! I
wish you sleep good!”
The breed waved his hand across
Finlay’s face. On the little finger
was a ring of hammered gold.
“Bob’s ring!” A storm of hate
beat through the man trussed to the
tree. He strained desperately
against the thongs that held him but
Tete-Blanche had done his work
As they left, Batoche struck Fin
lay in the mouth. "Dat ees for Joe
Blood burst from Finlay’s split
lips as he flung back: "Sorry I
missed you, you yellow dog!”
Garry Finlay was alone with the
horror of the coming night. He
gazed through his fast closing eyes
at the rose afterglow above him.
"Last sunset! Last twilight, Garry!”
he muttered. He filled his lungs
with the spruce-sweet air and looked
long at the black silhouettes of tree
tops etched on the horizon. "Slow
death from poisoning and shock!
He was young and life was good.
But it was over, now! He peered
hungrily at the fading flush in the
sky. “Last evening, Garry!”
He thought of the loyal Red and
Blaise anxiously hunting the shore;
of his family and of the grave on the
Waswanipi. “Two of us, now, Bob!”
he groaned. "He’s got your ring! I
saw it! Two instead of one. Bob, and
I promised to get Tete-Blanche for
Again and again he wrenched at
the thongs on his wrists until his
lacerated skin and the throb of his
head stopped him. "Sergeant Gar
rett Finlay, of the Royal Canadian
Mounted Police, lost on duty! Lost
neglecting his duty! I begged for
the detail and I got it. And this is
what I’ve done with it—walked into
a trap with my eyes open! Forgot
duty and a clean record for a lying
cheat of a girl! Red, Blaise!” he
pleaded. "Forgive me for what I’ve
done to you!”
Under the lash of his remorse Fin
lay grew numb to the stings that
were fast poisoning his blood. Then
a sound back in the bush silenced
him. Shortly he called: “Come and
finish it, you bush rats!”
They had returned. If he could
only taunt them to cutting it all short
with a bullet “Isadore’s handsome,
white-haired boy comes back!" he
Jeered. “And the cross-eyed M’sieu’
Batoche who was bitten in the face
by a rabbit!"
But his answer from the scrub
was a mad yelp and the snapping
of brush as a dog burst from the
bushes, stopped, gazed in doubt at
the huddled figure, approached and
sniffed at the man who spoke to him,
then in a delirium of whines and
caresses threw himself on the mas
ter he loved.
"Flame! God bless your old
bones! You followed their trail from
the shore! Boy, I’m glad to see
your whiskered map again!"
Frantic with joy the dog nuzzled
Garry’s tortured face and neck.
Hope flowed through Finlay as wa
ter through a burst dam. With
Flame there was a chance. Flame
would never leave him. If he could
only get the airedale to chew through
the thongs that bound his wrists!
“Where’s Red, Flame? Red and
Blaise? They turned you loose to
hunt for me but where—”
A distant shot stopped him. He
listened while the dog’s soothing
tongue licked the blood on his face
and head. “That’s Red, signalling,
or else there’s a fight on.” Like a
madman Finlay battled with his
thongs. They gave slightly and the
blood began to ease into his numb
hands. Then the long hours that
Sergeant Finlay had spent on the
education of an airedale puppy be
gan to bear fruit Fearing that
some day, he might be stolen and
tied up, Finlay had taught the dog
to chew through any rope, leather
leash or raw-hide that held him pris
After much coaxing Garry man
aged to focus the dog's attention on
his bound wrists. Shortly Flame
was licking the thongs as well as
Finlay’s hands.
"Eat it up! It’s good—good chow
for dogs! Chew it! It tastes good.
Flame!” the man endlessly coaxed
while his dog licked the thongs and
the swollen forearms. Then Flame
hooked a long fang under a loop
and tugged at it “That’s the dog!
Eat it up. Flame!” urged the man
battling desperately against time.
Gradually the airedale seemed to
comprehend. It was a game they
were playing and he liked the taste
of the fresh hide.
At last the dog lay down behind
the bound man and with his great
grinders jammed against Finlay's
wrists began to chew at the knots.
“That’s the dog! Chew it up!”
Spurred by his master’s approval
and relishing the taste of the hide as
he would a bone the airedale chewed
through two key knots. A last heave
and Finlay’s numbed hands were
In his joy, he shook like grass in
the wind. Again life beckoned as a
camp-fire to a man lost at night in
the bush. He laughed, now, at the
black cloud of his tormentors which
once meant a slow death. He
laughed at Tete-Blanche. at Isadore.
He’d come back from the grave.
“We’ve licked ’em, Flame!” he
panted. “Bless your old hide, you’ve
done it, boy!” Hugging the dog’s
wriggling body, Finlay crushed his
face against the scarred skulL “I
love every hair of your old carcass,”
he crooned. “I’ll have my feet clear
in a minute but you'll have to lead
me to the shore. I’m stone blind.”
When his numbed legs could carry
him. Flame led him by a thong over
the back track to the shore. Head
long into the cool water plunged man
and dog. maddened by the lance
like thrusts which had stippled their
bodies with welts.
"Oh, this is good. Flame!” Lav
ing his burning arms and face, Fin
lay wallowed with grunts jf relief in
the comforting water. “I’m puffed
up like a poisoned pig, Flamey, old
socks! But we’ve whip-sawed this
Tete-Blanche, you and I. We’ll meet
again some day and when we do
there’ll be lead in the air.” He
laughed bitterly.
A distant shot cut him short
“Hear that? Must be Red and Blaise
hunting for us! Answer ’em. Flame!
I’ve lost my gun. It’s Red! Tell
’em we’re here!”
The airedale’s brittle bark floated
through the murk settling on the
Then Red hailed. Finlay answered
and shortly the Peterboro slid up to
the man lying in the shallow water
of the shore.
“What’s happened to you, Garry?’
cried the alarmed Red, leaping from
the canoe and bending over the man
soaking in the water. “What are
you lying there fbr, Garry? You
“Hello, Red! You there, Blaise?
I’m all right, but I’ve been eaten
alive by bugs. I’m blind as a dead
fish and I’ve got a lump on my head
like an egg. I hate to leave this
water even to shake hands with
The Junto Lives Again
IF THE spirit of Benjamin Frank
lin had been strolling along the
streets of Philadelphia on a recent
night, it is not unlikely that a pass
erby might have heard the ghostly
presence of the immortal Ben
chuckling to himself. For that day
had witnessed the spectacle of 2,000
of his fellow-Philadelphtans crowd
ing into the Academy of Music to
revive an organization which he
started 214 years ago, and. accord
ing to Time magazine, "at week's
end fresh hordes were still coming.
It was the biggest cultural revival in
many a Philadelphia year; the
cozy little study club he founded in
a tavern with 11 convivial compan
ions in 1727 has a mammoth re
This "cozy little club” was the
famous Junto or "council,” a mutu
al self-improvement society, formed
by Franklin and several of his "in
genious acquaintances.” It was a
democratic organization, too. for
among its members, besides 21
year-old Ben Franklin, were a sur
veyor, a glazier, an Oxford scholar
and a “young gentleman of some
Although the proceedings of the
club were secret and no minutes of
its meetings were kept, Franklin, in
his writings, has revealed some of
the topics which the members of the
Junto discussed. Among them were
these: "Whence comes the dew that
stands on the outside of a tankard?”
Earliest known portrait of Frank
lin, painted probably about 1748, now
owned by Harvard university.
“What unhappy effect* of intem
perance have you lately observed?"
But the Junto is important in
American history if for no other
reason than this. It was this
club which helped launch Franklin
upon the career as a scientist which
brought him world-wide fame, es
pecially in the field of experiments
in electricity. Franklin first became
interested in electricity in 1746 when
he attended a lecture by a Dr
Spence of Boston. This led eventu
ally to correspondence with Peter
Collinson of London who sent him
an electrical tube and with it Frank
lin performed various experiments
for the edification of the members
of the Junto. Writing to Collinson
later, Franklin said:
"I never was before engaged in
any study that so totally engrossed
my attention and my time as this
has lately done, for. what with mak
ing experiments when I can be
alone, and repeating them to my
friends and acquaintances, who
from the novelty of the thing, come
continually to see them, I have, dur
ing some months past, had little
leisure for anything else."
Undoubtedly the encouragement
which he received from his fellow
members of the Junto had a great
deal to do with his continuing the
studies in electricity and branching
out into other scientific fields
“Franklin seems to have carried on
his studies in physical science, natu
ral philosophy, wholly during the
period 1747 to 1756. and then to
have been driven off from his work,
which he described as the most ab
sorbing of his life, by the increasing
demands of public life and civic ob
Thus writes Howard McClenahan
in the chapter, “Franklin, the
Philosopher and Scientist,” in the
book. "The Amazing Benjamin
Franklin.” In it he lists all of the
“striking phenomena observed for
the first time by this fundamental
The Junto lasted for 40-odd years
and out of it grew the American
Philosophical society, the oldest sci
entific society on the American
continent. During its existence of
four decades it was the originator
of many important institutions—in
all of which Benjamin Franklin
played a leading part.
Among these were: 1731, the Li
brary Company of Philadelphia, the
first circulating library in America;
1736, the Union Fire company, the
first volunteer fire department in
Philadelphia; 1749, “Proposals re
lating to the Education of Youth in
Pennsylvania,” which led to the for
mation of the College (afterwards
the University) of Pennsylvania;
1751, the Pennsylvania hospital, the
first of its kind in America, and 1752,
the “Philadelphia Contributionship
for the Insurance of Houses From
Loss by Fire,” the first chartered
fire insurance company in America.
Elaborate Applique Shown on
Daytime and Evening Styles
ROSES are red on the superbly
beautiful white gown centered
In the group. The flair for white for
party wear and also for youthful
"date” dresses is important fashion
news. College girls and teen-agers
are simply thrilled with the idea of
"winter white” for dine-and-dance
wear. For these, fancy runs mostly
to white crepes, wools and jersey,
some trimmed with gold accents
and others gay with appliqued floral
patterns or bright yarn embroid
The lovely white party dress
pictured to the right above is made
of soft white crepe which molds it
self to the figure of the wearer. At
tention is drawn to the tunic and
shoulder drape which is gathered
from a V-neckline. Great lovely
roses in crimson red crepe are ap
pliqued to form a border on the tunic
and a corsage cluster at the left
In the stunning afternoon model
to the right below one senses the fact
that applique design is as gracious
and effective for daytime modes as
for formal evening gowns. Black and
pink, a flattering color combination
widely featured this season, distin
guishes this ensemble. The black
dress is styled with the new drop
shoulder, while the sprightly pep
lum is encrusted with an ap
plique of pink braid in a floral motif.
The pillbox hat is black felt with a
bow of black veiling.
The sophisticated evening gown
to the left in the background is of
black marquisette worn over a
nude-pink slip. The call for black
on black is dramatically answered
in the bold leaf design in black
velvet which is artfully applied on
the shoulders and at the waist.
The applique theme is being
worked out'stunningly for simple
wool daytime dresses and suits.
The flower applique is self fabric
which traces its way along lapels,
sleeve tops and often over the en
tire front of the bodice or blouse.
In connection with the vogue for
gay and festive trimming accents
in the way of beadwork and em
broidery, it is interesting to note the
glitter of sequins, rhinestones or
nailheads, as well as a definite re
vival of applique design. This form
of handcraft is very smart, and in
featuring it, designers have tapped
a wellspring of inspiration which is
pouring forth a wealth of ideas in
endless procession.
Applique design offers a technique
which is being successfully em
ployed for both day and evening
modes with the utmost simplicity
or in the most elaborate motifs to
fit the occasion. Consequently, there
are going to be all types of applique
this season, from the simple single
bouquet effect on a blouse or bod
ice to take the place of a corsage
or glittering spray clip, all the way
to elaborate designs. Also, we may
expect to see a tremendous amount
of applique used on the sports
clothes for resort wear.
Many of the "dressy” clothes for
winter are so beautifully embel
lished they are veritable works of
art See tyis demonstrated in the
lovely gown pictured to the left be
low in the illustration. For this ap
plique the artist designer has taken
morning glories for her theme, trans
lating them into handmade fabric
flowers that bloom in all their deep
purples, wines, brilliant pink and
azure blue. Leaves and stems and
tendrils of green go cascading from
shoulder to hem down the side front
of this stately, sleekly fitted, black
crepe dinner gown. It is said that
many women of discriminating
taste are turning to fabric applique
as a welcome change from too
much glitter of sequins and colorful
(Released by Western Newspaper Union.)
Color Contrast
Daring, but as fascinating as dar
ing, are the color schemes designers
devise this season. Using color in
striking contrast is a new styling
method that has developed into a
favorite fashion formula. In the
picture, cloud blue forms the front
of a brown crepe dress. The color
scheme is unusual and is made
more so by the cardinal red felt
hat which tops milady’s smartly
coifTed head—which goes to show
most anything can happen in the
way of color schemes nowadays.
When all is said and done, the ef
fect comes out a hundred per cent
eye-satisfying. The new color free
dom is indeed a revelation.
Jacket Is Favorite
Theme of Designers
Suits of gay plaids or colorful
tweeds have held good right through
the fall and will continue to do so
during the winter. Already resort
fashions have emphasized the su
premacy of jacket suits In the
mode. Two features of the newer
suits are the continued use of pleat
ed skirts and the emphasis on beau
tiful wools in charming colors for
the new jacket suits. For climates
that call for warmth, these pastel
and richly colorful tailored wools
are trimmed with fur.
Winter Sport Clothes
Rival Those for Beach
It used to be that resort clothes
for winter vacationists were de
signed only for sunny southern
climes. Now the program has to
cover all types of winter sports as
well. Winter activities now include
skating, skiing, tobogganing, and
bowling, as well as swimming and
sun bathing for those who go south
or west. Sports costumes must be
practical and comfortable, and one
that fulfills these requirements is a
bowling dress just made for action.
White ‘Bunny’ Wrap Is
The Delight of the ’Teens
The vogue for white this winter
is creating no end of excitement
in the younger set which simply
dotes on the new white jersey or
crepe or corduroy “date” dress.
With these they wear cunning “com
fy” white bunny jackets. Some
times these are bordered down the
front opening with vividly gay
peasant yam embroidery.
Ay 6//ja6*lA
(McClure Syndicate—WNl! Service.}
DAVIE stood at the camp window
and looked out over the great
frozen lake. "Do you think he’ll
come right across the ice?”
"He?” Mother answered from the
kitchen. "Oh. Santa Claus? Why,
perhaps, darling. But not this morn
ing, funny boy; not before evening.”
Such unquestioning five-year-old
faith, and she must watch its be
trayal. Because there weren't going
to be any presents. There wasn’t
any money.
Suddenly Davie screamed with ex
citement and his mother went run
ning to look out too.
"Why, it’s a deer. Davie.”
"Reindeer,” said Davie, without
any question at alL
"One of Santa's, you think? May
be the sleigh tipped over and all the
presents spilled! Isn't that too bad?”
They watched the graceful crea
ture until it disappeared into the
woods on the other side. Then moth
er returned to her baking and Da
vie followed.
"It’s a shame for It to happen
Just the day before Christmas when
there won't be time to make any
more. How disappointed all the chil
dren in the world will be! But you
Two small blobs appeared far oat
against the snow.
won't mind so much, will you, Davie
darling, because you’ll know what
happened. Just think, you saw the
deer! And wasn’t he beautiful?”
"Yes,” Davie drew a long sigh of
rapturous memory. He fell silent,
then: "May I go out and play?”
The eleven o’clock sun was warm
and she bundled him out.
Suddenly it was one o'clock and
time for lunch. And she had heard
no sound from Davie for an hour!
No answer when she called from
the door. Davie wasn't in the yard.
Of course he had gone to find the
sleigh, the tipped-over sleigh and the
presents. How could she have failed
to consider the way a child’s mind
would work?
She dared not leave the baby, who
had a slight cold, nor start out with
her on a search which might last for
hours. Nothing to do, then, but wait
for Jock to come in midafternoon.
It was three o’clock before a small
blob appeared far out against the
snow. Two small blobs, in fact.
She waited, sobbing with relief.
“I didn't find Santa Claus' sleigh.
Mama,” he explained as soon as he
could speak for her kisses, “but I
found his house. She lives there—
and that was one of his reindeer.
The tracks went right into the yard.
Santa Claus was gone. There was
just a man asleep in the kitchen. I
think he’s one of the toy-makers.”
“No, ttiat was Ned,” sa!6 Goldi
"What’s your name, dear?
As the afternoon wore on some
thing familiar about the contour of
the little face kept tickling her mem
ory until realization struck.
Golden curls and a blue zipper
suit! Phillie! Ned—Ned Cozetti? Of
course. This was the Bentley child.
Phyllis Bentley, kidnaped Thanks
giving day and given up for dead!
Jock, bending to unlace his snow
shoes, was met by a whirlwind bun
dled to its ears in shawls and sur
rounded by three miniature whirl
winds similarly wrapped.
"Crank up the car right away.
We’ve got to get into town before
the telegraph office closes. Do you
know who this child is?” The whirl
wind gave a bounce and grasped his
arm. "Phyllis Bentley, that’s all.
And her mother thinks she’s dead
and this is Christmas eve. Oh, hur
ry! Davie was gone three hours to
day and I know just how she must
feel. And if we get hauled up for
driving without a license, there’ll be
ten thousand dollars to pay the
Toys for Little Tots
Can Be ‘Noise-Makers’
Children from one to four years
of age like noise-makers. For them
we might suggest a set of a half a
dozen baking powder tins, each with
something in it to make a noise, as
buttons, nails, paper clips, pebbles
or screws. Since some of the con
tents might be easily swallowed, the
tops should be firmly cemented on
before the tins are given two or
three coats of enamel paint, each
can a different bright color.