I
THE STORY SO FAR: Boynd (or the
Chibougamau gold country, six men lost
their lives on the Nottaway river. Red
Malone, Garrett Finlay, brother o( one
of the six, and Blaise, half-breed guide,
arrive at Nottaway posing as surveyors
* * #
INSTALLMENT SIXTEEN
to Investigate. Murder Is suspected. It
Is thought that Isadore, rich fur man,
has made a gold strike and aims to
keep prospectors out. On the way to Che
Hudson's Bay post they visit Isadore In
his palatial home, meet his wife and
dt H dk * * *
Lise, Isadora's stepdaughter. Answering
an appeal from Lise, Finlay Is am
bushed and rescued by Malone and
Blaise. It develops that they are Mount
ed Police officers. Blaise returned one
night after a flght with some Indians.
* * *
"What d’you mean by spoiling a
nice afternoon nap, you old—say,
who tore your shirt?” demanded
Malone. "Where’d you pick up all
that dirt on that handsome face of
yours? What you been trying to do
while we were asleep?"
Blaise gazed benignly down on his
startled friends. "You wake up
quick w’en you hear.”
Flame was nuzzling at Garry’s
neck when the blinking eyes of the
latter suddenly widened. “What in
thunder you been into, Flame?
You’re cut and what’s that damned
smell on you? I've got it! Beaver
castor! Red, smell of that dog! He’s
smeared with it! And what happened
to his head, Blaise? He’s been struck
with a club.” Solicitously Garry ex
amined the scratch of the knife and
the swollen head of his dog.
When Blaise had told his story of
the missing dog, the log dead-fall set
in the clearing and the fight, the
three friends ate and prepared to
leave the island in the early dusk.
There was no doubt that their camp
had been discovered.
“Blaise, you and Flame are two
lucky devils,” said Garry, as they
lay hidden in the shore alders wait
ing for the rose tints to fade from
sky and lake and the dusk to mask
their movements. “Both of you walk
into trouble and both of you bob up
smiling. But my guess is that when
those two Montagnais you left bound
at the clearing are found by their
friends we may hear something.
Queer they didn’t have their guns
with them when they tried to am
bush you!”
When dusk fell a Peterboro drift
ed through the shadows like a
wraith, bound for the head of the
lake.
CHAPTER XVI
The police party were hidden near
the head of the lake waiting for the
return of Moise with news from his
father. The following night, in the
round of the moon, it had been ru
mored through the fishing camps
that the spirit voices would speak to
the Montagnais. During the day ca
noes had passed within a half mile
of the camp. It was evident that
Tete-Blanche had guessed that the
men he sought were at the head of
the lake and that his scouts were
hunting the shores for them. “Moise
should be showing up if we’re going
to move to that hide-out tonight,”
said Finlay.
“Moise will follow de dark of de
shore,” grunted Blaise. “De moon is
so bright it bodder him. Dey got
plenty men watchin’.”
“We’ll need those shore shadows,
too, Garry," said Red. “When the
moon slides toward those ridges it’ll
be safer traveling.”
“Look!” muttered Blaise, point
ing.
Hardly a mile distant the black
shape of a birchbark cut across the
shimmering ribbon of light banding
the lake.
“There’s another!” exclaimed
Red. "And another!”
“What do you make of it, Blaise?”
asked Finlay. "Think they’ve got a
hunch that we’re in these islands?”
Brassard scratched his iron chin.
“Hard to tell!”
“This island’s not a hundred yards
long,” said Red. "If they land here
we’ve got a tough fight on our hands.
It’ll be a case of wolf eat wolf.”
"That’s the trouble,” regretted
Finlay. “We want no trouble to
night. It’ll kill Wabistan’s plans—
spoil the whole show.”
T ree cano ! grunted Blaise.
“Dat look bad to me. We watch
de shore. Dey may land on us.
Dere was ten in dose boat.”
“All right!” said Finlay. “This is
land is three cornered. Each man
take a shore. That ought to cover
any landing in the dark.”
“Fill your pockets with shells. I’ll
keep Flame gagged and hitched to
my belt. I won’t cut the gag and
turn him loose until I’m sure they
know we’re here and are going to
land. So don’t count on his getting
their wind and sounding off.”
“In case anyone fires,” asked
Red, “do we leave our posts and
back him up?”
“Yes. If they land we’ve got to
get together.”
Hitching Flame’s leash to his belt
Garry crossed the little island and
took up a position with his uneasy
dog. So long as the airedale felt his
master’s hand he would not make
any noise with the gag in his mouth.
But the instant he caught a strange
scent his shaggy body would vibrate
with excitement.
Less than a hundred yards from
where Finlay and his dog waited lay
the black bulk of shadow of the
mainland. The water between was
washed by moonlight. But, past
midnight, as the moon arched into
the west, the murk reached out to
ward the shore where Finlay wait
ed. Shortly the strait between the
islands would be smothered in black
ness. Then, if the Montagnais had
discovered the police hide-out, they
would cross.
With his rifle on his knees, Finlay
sat listening, his arm circling the
fretting dog.
“They’ll be moving soon, if they'rd
over there,” Finlay whispered.
Suddenly the dog stiffened, the
hair along his neck and back lifting
as he sniffed. Finlay’s hands closed
on Flame’s nose and throat. “Wind
something? Steady, boy!”
Then from the murk drifted a
faint sound like a splash of water.
"Ah, I hear it! They’re coming!”
muttered Finlay.
Again Finlay strained his ears,
with caught breath, for a repetition
of the sound. At last he heard
what resembled the wash of rip
ples; as if something was swimming
slowly across the strait. What could
that mean? He cut the gag and
lease and the airedale tore through
the alders up the shore.
“It must be a swimming otter or
beaver he’s winded,” muttered the
surprised Finlay. "He’d roar at a
canoe.”
Shortly from the gloom rose
snarls, the thrashing of creatures
battling in the water, then muffled
gurgles. Rigid, Finlay listened,
praying for the dog he loved.
“Flame!” groaned the man on the
shore. “What’s happened to you,
boy? What did you meet out there?”
Had he lost his dog? Had Flame
gone out there in the blackness to
his death? It was no canoe. But
what was it? Garry waited in sus
pense, ears still straining. Then
something moved swiftly through
Finlay sat listening, his arm
circling the fretting dog.
the water to the shore near him,
shook itself and bounded to his side.
“Flame, you old water rat, what
did you strike out there?” Finlay
hugged his dripping dog. “Are you
hurt, boy?”
A rapid search of the dog’s head
and shoulders with groping fingers
seemed to reveal no wounds. Garry
threw a loop of a thong around
Flame’s jaw and waited with arm
crooked about him.
Presently the silence was split by
a demoniacal wail which lifted like
an eagle’s screaming whistle to die
in thin air. The startled Finlay
clung to his aroused dog, clamp
ing a hand over his nose. What in
the name of all the fiends in hell
was that? wondered the kneeling po
liceman. The voice ceased and si
lence again pulsed over moon
drenched forest and lake.
Shortly the night was tainted by
the bellow of some tortured brute
voicing his agony. It was followed
by mad roars of rage which echoed
back and forth between the forest
walls of the strait.
Holding his struggling dog Finlay
knelt on the shore as the mystery
was solved in his active brain.
Shortly he heard the thud of wood
on wood fading rapidly into the dis
tance. He released Flame who
plunged up the shore roaring his
challenge to the hidden owner of
the magic voice.
“By the way they are beating it
from that howling Windigo. those
Montagnais won’t stop until day
light!” Finlay laughed until he was
tired.
“They’re superstitious all right!
Blaise, the Windigo! The giant who
eats Indians! But where did he learn
how to do this? What a voice! What
a voice!"
“That you Garry?” called Red,
stumbling through the bush.
“Where’s that foxy Blaise? Ever
hear squalling to beat that? They
were waiting at the island to come
across but he scared them stiff.
Those paddles were hitting the lake
sixty a minute. Our Blaise, the big
voice—the ventriloquist!”
“How you like dat song?” With
Flame at his heels Blaise moved
down the beach and joined his
friends. "Wabistan tell me dose
Montagnais have fear of Windigo.
So I seeng dem de Windigo song."
“Blaise, you're some prima-don
nal You always claimed you could
sing. Now I know it,” said Red.
“A swell idea to scare those Mon
tagnais! Just what is a Windigo,
anyway?”
Blaise chuckled. ‘‘Wal, de Injun
fink de Windigo is beeg, Wat you
call giant, who eat Injun and is ver'
bad fallar. He like to holler at
night and scare dem. Most bush
Injun is scare of Windigo and will
not go into country w'ere he live.”
“They certainly thought a man
eater was loose and hungry to
night,” said Garry. "You had me
guessing hard, Blaise, when you first
opened up. Now before we get out
of here I want to take Flame back
into the bush and look him over with
a torch.”
"What’s happened?” demanded
Red.
Finlay described the dog’s strange
battle in the water. Then they went
back where the light from an elec
tric torch would be masked from the
lake and looked the airedale over. ;
“He’s scratched, Garry,” said
Red.
Brassard peered closely at the
surface scratches which crossed
Flame’s shoulders and forelegs. “No
claw or toot’ make dem mark,” he '
grunted.
“It was a knife, then," said Fin
lay. “You think a Montagnais was
swimming across the strait? But
few of them can swim.”
“We put cano’ in and have a
look,” said Blaise.
At their camp they found Moise
Wabistan waiting and told him the
story. Then the Peterboro, followed
by the birchbark, passed through a
patch of moonlit water before en
tering the bank of shadow. From
the bow Finlay pointed to something
floating ahead of them. “What’s
that?”
The canoe slid up to the drifting
object. Kept afloat by air bladders
of moose entrails, fastened under
the arms, was the half-submerged
body of a man. Blaise reached
down and turned the drowned body
to stare into an evil, grimacing face.
"W’at you t’ink?” he demanded,
meeting the peering eyes of his
friends. "Tetu!”
"Tetu? Al.c side-kick of Tete
Blanche!” gasped Red.
“Ah-hah! And good t’ing, for
sure!”
“He was coming across to hunt
for us when Flame went out and
met him, nose to nose, and the best
man won,” said Red. “Good old
Flamey!”
“Flame pull him undair and
drown him before he stick a knife
in him,” added Blaise. “Dat smart
chien. I navare saw so smart. He
know more dan most man. But he
get foolish w’en he smell beaver
castor, eh Flame?”
It was the first week of August.
For days the heat, like river mist
before sunrise, had hung in the
windless forests of the Nottaway
country.
"Are you game for a swim, Lise?
I’m stifled with this heat. There’s
an urge in me to mingle my curves
with some nice, cool lake water,”
yawned Corinne Isadore.
“I’m crazy to but since that day
at the beach I’ve been ordered to
keep away from there,” replied
Lise.
“I fixed that with Jules this morn
ing. The king says we can go. Have
you noticed him since he returned
from that trip? He’s worried, Lise.
He mumbles and raves in his sleep.
One night he kept saying: ‘What’s
their game? What’s their game?
We’ve got to get ’em, quick! If they
see that plane and get back to Mon
treal, it's all over!’ ”
Lise stiffened in her hammock.
Had Tete-Blanche got them al
ready? “What could he have meant, ;
Corinne?” she asked with seeming |
artlessness, wondering just how ;
much the other knew.
“It sounds as if they were hunt
ing for Garry Finlay and that dar
ling Malone boy, doesn’t it—as if
they were going to put them out of
the way? Lise, I’m terribly fright- j
ened.”
“I am, too. You saw the Indians
who stopped here, yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“There were twenty of them. They
were hunting for the survey party."
"How do you know?”
“I heard Tete-Blanche talking to
them. They acted drunk. Corinne,
Jules is giving the Montagnais liq
uor and it’s against the law.”
“Jules swears that Finlay’s a spy
sent from Montreal to jump his gold
strike on the river. I suppose that’s
the reason for it all.”
“Has Jules ever talked to you of
his gold strike?”
“No. He treats me like a baby.
But I’m sure he’s secretly shipped a
lot of gold south. He’s made much
money."
"Yes, he’s made money. Money’s
his god.”
“But what’s going to come of all
this? It marfes me shiver to think
of it. Three men have been shot.
What will the police do when they
learn of it?” Corinne’s great eyes
were wide with apprehension.
“Where’s it going to end? If Finlay
stays here and tries to find Jules’
gold strike, Tete-Blanche’ll kill him.
It’s horrible!"
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Current Fashions Stress New
Use of Daring Color Contrast
By CHERIE NICHOLAS
AT FIRST this matter of using
two or three colors together in
daring contrast was regarded as an
adventure that would give a new
Blant to fashion. It was a deliberate
departure from traditional color
technique that might reasonably be
expected to prove a mere passing
fad. However, this courage on the
part of designers to start something
new has not only added zest to fash
ion, but has developed a movement
that is being carried over from one
season to another with increasing
enthusiasm.
This spring the fashion program
fairly vibrates wiih breathtaking
color contrasts that defy staid and
sedate ideas as to which color goes
with which.
In every phase of fashion, from
bathing suits to sweaters and from
simple daytime dresses to dress
up afternoon frocks and pretentious
“formals,” designers are coura
geously handling color in new ways
with an artistry that is winning tre
mendous applause.
To demonstrate the brilliant and
audacious spirit style creators ex
press in their use of color, note the
daytime dress shown to the left in
the group illustrated above. The
dress in this instance is of narrow
wale corduroy with sleeves and col
lar of bright red wool jersey. A
patch pocket has a striking heraldic
design embroidered in multi-col
ored yarns.
By the way, this idea of contrast
ing sleeves might serve as an in
spiration in stretching a limited
budget to meet the exigencies aris
Flour Sack Dress
Imagine! A dress as attractive as
this actually made out of ordinary
cotton flour sacks! You’ll need three
large cotton bags for this charming
frock. It is no trick at all to dye
them a deep red and for trimming
use beige colored yarn (dyed with
coffee liquid). Add real pine cones
for buttons and you have a dress
for the farmerette that any city
cousin would look upon with under
standable envy.
Slim Skirls Have
Soft Draped lanes
There’s excitement coming in the
way of skirt silhouettes. To say
that they are versatile is to put it
mildly. In the fashion picture there
will not only be pleated skirts but
there is an important trend toward
pencil-slim draped effects.
Very smart, too, are the new
wrapover effects, many of which tie
on without any other fastening The
surprise is the skirts that are
flounced in a new way. These will
be repeated again and again in wash
dresses. Also in long evening taf
fetas.
Ballerina skirts are making front
page news, and the young set is
wearing them like the dirndl.
Color Goes to W ork—
In Note Defense Uniforms
Color is being advocated through
out the fashion field. Those who
are studying conditions say that for
defense work, particularly, bright
color is essential to morale. The
gabardines, denims and other cot
tons used for uniforms, field work
and various defense activities will
not only be thoroughly practical and
functional, but they will spread a
good measure of cheer.
Flattering hats, many of them
flower trimmed, will be worn from
now on into the spring. The flower
trimmed calot is a favorite. The
little sailor, of straw or felt, will
also be shown. Many fabrics will
feature back drapes over the hair.
Child’s Slacks
Very practical and cunning for
little tots are pinafore slacks with
matching bonnets that are made
with a view to stressing the ‘‘pretty’*
look. Chambray and seersucker are
favored fabrics for these suits.
ing in present war times when econ
omy is a virtue every woman is
urged to practice. For example,
there's that dress hanging in your
closet, “perfectly good," yet seem
ing to have outlived its usefulness.
The sleeves show wear at the el
bows. Why not rejuvenate this poor
outcast with a new pair of sleeves
in a bright, contrasting color? To
complete the costume, add a belt,
and, perhaps, pockets in the same
bright color. You might even go so
far as to do the contrast sleeves in
a tri-color scheme, cerise for the
top, gold for the center and purple
for the lower arm portion, repeating
the colors in pockets and neckline
details.
Smartly typical of the new vogue
for contrast is the dress shown to
the right in the picture above. It
has a definitely "peasant" feeling in
its use of vivid colors and its trim
ming in a flower of self fabric.
There’s something about the mid
dy-blouse fashion done in red, white
and blue that makes an irresistable
combination. The pattern for the
two-piece outfit, centered in the
group above, with its easy-to-follow
instructions, is especially interesting
if you sew the modern way. If you
aspire to be your own seamstress,
your local sewing center will in
struct you, at little or no expense,
in the making of such expert dress
maker details as buttonholes. Crisp
white rayon fabric is used for the
middy blouse and cadet blue for the
skirt. Bands of vermillion red ac
cent the collar, cuffs and pockets
and can be made in “jig time” with
an edge stitcher sewing machine at
tachment.
And don’t forget about the newest
bathing suits. They have sprightly
little skirts of ruffles, each in a dif
ferent color. A bandanna for the
head repeats the color scheme.
(Relc 3ed by Western Newspaper Union.)
Farm
Topics -||
FARM WOODLOT
NEEDS CULLING
‘Loafer’ and ‘Robber’ Trees
Should ‘Get the Ax.’
By PARKER ANDERSON
(Eateasion Forester, Minnesota
University Farm.)
The farm woodlot need* “culling”
at this time of the year Just as
much as does the flock of laying
hens. If the woodlot is to produce
well in the future, loafer and robber
trees should get the axe.
Trees culled out this winter will
more than pay for the trouble and
labor in fuel, fence posts and lum
ber logs. Woodlots will gain from
this practice, he says, because the
remaining trees can grow faster and
straighter.
It is a good idea to have an eye
out for trees that will give cash re
turns in the future. Productive trees
should have the best in soil fer
tility, water and sunlight Large
trees that "overtop” and steal sun
light from promising young growth
are among those recommended by
Anderson for culling.
To avoid too extensive cutting
here are some suggestions:
Leave enough trees to cover the
forest floor, but thin out dense
thickets of young trees so the
straightest and healthiest ones will
have growing room. Keep your
eyes on the tops—tree tops should
be fairly close but with some room
for growth.
Raise More Food,
Farm Youth Urged
Farm boya and girls are being en
couraged to increase supplies of
foods needed by this country through
projects on pigs, calves, and chick
ens, according to word received
from the U. S. department of agri
culture.
Both the Farm Credit and Farm
Security administrations are pre
pared to make loans to members of
4-H clubs and other rural youth
groups—as well as to unaffiliated
youngsters with responsible spon
sors—io make more such work pos
sible than in the past.
FSA wili make loans to children
of its borrowers where funds are
otherwise unavailable, and FCA will
make loans through local produc
tion credit associations. The State
Extension services in co-operation
with state agricultural colleges, will
help to launch many of the projects,
it is announced.
Many 4-H clubs and other rural
youth groups have raised various
foods as part of their work in the
past. Last year, for instance, 4-H
members grew 237,000 home gar
dens, 177,000 raised poultry, 150,000
raised pigs, and 74,000 had dairy
cattle. The aim now is to increase
the number of farm boys and girls
growing foods deemed most vital to
America.
Their contributions of milk, eggs,
pork, and vegetables will not only
add to needed supplies in the coun
try but will make possible in many
instances an improved diet for them
selves and families, it is pointed out.
Carbon Monoxide
Is Poultry Danger
Pink lungs reveal carbon mon
oxide poisoning in baby turkeys
and chicks. According to George
P. McCarthy, poultry husband
man of Texas A. and M. college,
a grower may actually gas his
turkey poults or baby chicks with
a sooty brooder stove and bad
ventilation. Deaths from this
cause might be attributed to oth
er reasons.
Investigators by the Denver
branch of the pathological labo
ratory of the U.S.D.A. into the
high percentage of loss among
baby turkeys delivered in good
condition from hatcheries to poul
trymen showed no external symp
toms of carbon monoxide poison
ing, even when it was suspected.
Chemical tests, however, were
conclusive and physical examina
tions confirmed the positive cases
by revealing the abnormally pink
lungs which result from this type
of poisoning.
McCarthy recommends that
turkey growers provide good ven
tilation in their brooder houses
without exposing the young birds
to the hazard of drafts. Before
placing baby chicks in brooder
houses it is important to clean
coal, wood and oil burning brood
er stoves in order to remove all
soot which might clog the burn
ers and help form the dangerous
gas.
Farm Machinery
Despite actual or threatened
shortages of raw materials, last
year was a year of record output
of farm equipment, says the depart
ment of commerce. The monthly out
' put of farm equipment continued
! steadily at the rate of $65,000,000
| from April through September. Sales
I of farm equipment show an increase
of 25 per cent over a year ago, ac
counted for entirely in the domestic
market, since exports of farm equip
ment were the same.
Smart Slip-Cover Style
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AN ELEGANT, tailored slip
** cover is what that frumpy old
chair needs!
You can make one yourself eas
ily, the pin-on way. Such a smart
style as we show—of satin-stripe
apricot rayon, with kick-pleat
flounce—isn’t a bit beyond you.
• • •
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