The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965, June 11, 1942, Image 3
SYNOPSIS THE STORY SO FAR: Running away from marriage to Ned Paxton, rich but a gay blade, Janice Trent becomes secre tary in an Alaska wilderness camp over the protest of Bruce Harcourt, a long time friend. Bruce is chief engineer, •ucceeding Joe Hale, deposed for negli gence. Millicent Hale, his wife, is also attracted to Bruce. Janice tells Ned Paxton she Is married to Harcourt. The latter overhears her and insists on an Immediate marriage. The newlyweds are Interrupted at home that night by Mrs. Hale who says her husband has been ■hot dead. She exclaims: “If you had only waited Bruce." Bruce spends the night investigating the murder. When Jimmie Chester, Millicent’s brother, runs off In a plane Bruce brings him back. In the meantime, Ned Paxton invites the women to his yacht. Janice and be, and two natives, leave in a launch to view a volcano closer. Suddenly it erupts. The boat Is stranded on a lonely beach. Now continue with the story. \ CHAPTER XVI An uncanny howl from somewhere inland rose to crescendo, slid into diminuendo and died away. “What’s that?” The teeth of one of the pilots visi bly and audibly chattered as he an swered Paxton. “That a wolf cry, yes sirree. Smoke an’ fire drive dem to shore. Dey no lak fire. Not much ever come oder time. Hunters come here. Shack up by trees.” Paxton’s voice showed strain. “You’ve clung to your camera, I see. We may wish it were some thing to eat before we get through. There are two cans of crackers in the launch, that’s all. If only this infernal smoke would lift, we’d get back to the yacht. The men were right. There’s the shack.” Janice’s heart went into a tailspin. On a little hill, a spur on the side of the mountain, sagged a cabin of warped, weather-beaten boards. She didn’t know how long she and Paxton stood there staring at the distant hut. He wheeled at sound of the put-put of an engine starting. With a startled oath he ran back to the water’s edge. Janice stumbled after him. As they reached it, the stern of the launch vanished into the mist. “Come back! Come back!” Pax ton shouted. Only the fading throb of the engine responded. He drew his revolver and fired into the air. As though in answer, a wild wail was relayed by echo after echo through the woods. Janice caught his arm. Her voice came raggedly. “Ned! Ned! Save your ammuni tion. Remember that ghastly howl.” • • • A shower of hot stones pelted the man and girl. Rain splashed. "Come on, Jan. We’d better make for that shack while the going is fairly good. I’ll bet it leaks like a sieve, but it will be some protection. Those infernal quitters threw out a can of crackers. I'll take that along.” He picked up the tin. They passed great patches of blue lupin. Wild raspberry bushes, high er than Janice’s head, clawed at her wet clothing, as though to di rect attention to the dead ripe fruit hanging in maroon clusters. She gathered handfuls, carried them in her hat which she had lined with a damp but spotless handkerchief. The woods rustled with the motion of un seen life. A porcupine rattled across the trail ahead. An otter swam down stream, two martens scuttled into a tangle of brush. A fox trotted by, stopped, one foot raised, looked back before he dashed off as though pursued by furies. A fat ptarmigan rose with a whiz which sent Jan ice's heart into her mouth. A few blocd - thirsty mosquitoes buzzed about her head, before drifting smoke sent them winging. Did ev erything living feel the pervading imminence of danger? Paxton’s eyes were inscrutable as they met Janice’s. Something about the grimness of his mouth set her heart 1’iumping. He waved his hand toward the hut “Let’s investigate. I have a light. I was trained by an old sea-dog never to leave the ship without a flash, a gun and matches.” He pulled an electric torch from an in side pocket of his soaked blue coat. Its glow revealed a room high enough for a man, a tall man, to stand upright without hitting his head. A bunk against one wall was heaped with dried boughs of spruce. A loose-jointed pipe, one end poking through the roof, acted as smoke conductor between a rusty cook stove and the outer world. A de generate chair and a rickety stool kept dissolute company. A table, whose legs sprawled outward like those of a teetering new-born calf, supported two tallow streaked bot tles and a dirty pack of cards. A rusty kettle and a frying-pan burned black hung from a crude shelf. Against the wall leaned an axe with a long handle and nicked blade. Paxton snapped a gold lighter. Aft er several futile attempts he suc ceeded in producing a small flame which he applied to a candle stub in one bottle. “We will save our matches for the fires. My knowl edge of camping is all laboratory stuff, no field work, but I know enough for that.” They hung over the table breath lessly till the wick caught and a flickering flame set ghoulish shad ows astix on the walls. Paxton She took careful aim. Fired. -snapped off the electric torch, laid his revolver on the shaky table, a card of matches beside it. “Those must be kept dry. Think you can start the Are in the stove while I collect brush for a signal to the yacht? Wrecked on a desert is land stuff.” He flung his wet blue coat over the chair-back. Axe in hand he smiled at her from the threshold. Good, but not good enough. Did he think she didn't know that the outside Are was more to keep off marauding animals than to signal the boat, that she had forgotten those banshee howls? She steadied her lips and smiled back at him. This last hour had aged him un believably. It had set deep crow’s feet at the comers of his eyes, etched lines between his nose and lips. Except for war service, all his luxurious life he had played hard and worked little. His once im maculate buckskin shoes oozed mud; his soaked white flannel trou sers were criss-crossed with black lines, where wet shrubs had lashed at him; little green rivulets, spon sored by his necktie, were cavort ing down the front of the silk shirt which was plastered to his body. His eyes with a laugh in their blue depths met hers. “I don’t like the suggestion of crit icism of my appearance in your ex pression. You’re not so hot your self.” The liking she had felt for him during the first weeks of their ac quaintance, which had flamed into love—or fascination—crumbled into gray ashes of doubt and distrust, stole back. It warmed her voice. “I’m a sight. I feel like a rag doll which has been left out in the rain.” She heard the crackle of brush un der his feet. She lifted a rusty cover from the stove. Her thoughts raced on as she laid a fire of dry leaves and brush. Billy and Bruce had taught her woodcraft when they nad taken her with them on their fish ing expeditions. If only Bruce were with her instead of Ned Paxton. She struck a match to escape the memory which set her heart pound ing unbearably. She watched the dry leaves ignite before she clapped on the rusty cover. She listened. The fire roared. Had she put in too much fuel? How the pesky thing smoked. She wiped her smarting eyes as she hunted for a damper. Her throat stung. It was humiliating not to be able to start a dinky little fire, but she would have to ask Ned to help. She stepped to the entrance for air. What was that? Good grief! What was that behind the tree near him? A dog? A gray dog? A dog’s eyes wouldn’t be green. A wolf! What was hanging from the creature’s cruel mouth? Cloth! A piece of plaid cloth caught on one yellowed fang. Sickening! She tried to call a warn ing. Her tongue dried to the roof of her mouth. Her body prickled with horror. The animal took a stealthy step toward the man on the stump. Stopped. Not a muscle rip pled under its skin. Ned would have no chance to save himself. Eyes on the motionless creature. Janice backed to the table, seized the revolver. On the doorsill she dropped to one knee. ‘‘Steady! Steady! Remember Jimmy’s in structions,” she warned herself. She took careful aim. Fired. Man and beast leaped simultane ously. The wolf soundlessly slunk into the shadows. Paxton ran to ward her, caught her shoulder. Shook her. “Why in heaven’s name did you do that?” She steadied trembling lips. "It was a wolf—just back of you—he— he was watching you—hungrily. I thought—l thought—” She dropped her head in her hands. Shuddered uncontrollably. “A wolf! You shot him?” “I shot at him." There was a touch of hysteria in her laugh. “I'm not too good.” “God, we’ll have the whole pack down on us.” Indignation steadied Janice’s nerves as no commendation would have done. “I call that darned un grateful. You would have been torn to shreds if I hadn't fired.” “Why didn’t you yell?” “Yell! I was dumb with horror. I came to the door to ask you to help with the stove, saw that terri ble creature moving toward you, and fired.” He loosened the fingers still clutching the revolver, laid it on the table. “Did you care when you thought me in danger, Janice?” Her heart flew to her throat. Blue eyes aflame could be more terrify ing than fierce green eyes. “Care! Wouldn’t you care If you saw a human being in peril of his life? Isn’t the smoke stifling? Can’t you do something to stop it?” “I—” He coughed, sneezed, wiped his eyes. "What’s the matter with the infernal thing?" Lids half shut, tears marking grimy furrows down his cheeks, he poked about the stove. Tears brim ming from her smarting eyes, Jan ice tried to help. He shook what seemed to be a damper. The por tion of the pipe which pierced the roof fell with a clatter which set her already taut nerves twanging like violiq strings under the fingers of an impassioned virtuoso. A vi cious orange-red fang shot from the standing smoke-stack, licked at the rotting branches of the roof. Damp as they were, they ignited. Fire ran from twig to twig. The man and girl stared incredu lously. “We’ve done it now! Quick! Out of this!” Paxton pushed her to the door, caught up the revolver as he dashed by the table. Janice grabbed her camera, snatched the tin of crack ers. As they jumped to the mossy log she heard the crackle of wood. The walls of the shack were on fire. Side by side they watched the lurid light inside flicker, flame, wane. Heat poured out as through the door of a furnace. Janice turned her back. "I’m thoroughly toasted on one side. ‘ 'Tis an ill wind, etc.’ It would have taken hours before an ordinary fire to dry our clothes. What is the next feature on this peppy program? It ought to be an nounced over a coast-to-coast hook up Paxton's eyes shone blue and clear in his smoke-grimed face. "Janice, you’re the best sport in the world. You set a great pace.” He steadied his voice. “The fire’s dying down. We’ll have a warm, charred shack at our backs. That will be some protection.” “Protection from what?” She hat ed herself for the terrified catch in her voice. “From prowlers. You heard the native pilot say that the volcano smoke would drive animals to the water. They will come down the bed of this brook from the interior.” Hours passed. Hours filled with nerve-racking suspense, listening, listening for the sound of a boat which did not come, with the drip of rain, the pelt of hail, flash of light ning and detonations of thunder. Janice dropped to the mossy log in front of the shack which gave out an acrid odor of smoldering wood. Paxton carefully laid a heap of brush beside him as he dropped wearily to the log. The fire had died down to red coals. He opened a gold cigarette case. “One left.” He snapped it shut. “Glad you don’t smoke. Otherwise I would have to sacrifice that on the altar of chivalry. Any crackers?" She drew one grimy piece from her pocket. "The last?” She nodded. “Put it back. I have indulged In too many calories already. I’ll lose my boyish figure if I don’t watch out.” "What’s that?” “What? Where?” Janice gripped his sleeve. Point ed. Two lambent green dots glowed between low alders. With a muttered imprecation, Paxton threw on the pitifully inade quate pile of brush beside him. The fire flared. The sinister points of light retreated. A howl tore through the distance. From near at hand the blood-curdling wail was an swered. Paxton rose swiftly. “I'm going for more wood.” “Where? You mustn’t. It isn’t safe.” (TO BE CONTINUEDJ Released by Western Newspaper Union. No. 1 Flag-Waver SINCE Flag day will have more significance for Americans this year than it has had for a quarter of a century, it’s likely that June 14 will see the greatest display of our national emblem in the history of America. And if America’s “No. 1 Flag-Waver” has his say about it, there will be one dramatic incident, the like of which has never before been seen! It’s his idea to have the outstand ing celebration of the day in the na tional capital. It will center around the Washington monument at the top of which will be flown a huge flag, 50 feet or more in length. And with pictures in the newspapers and newsreels in the movies showing this spectacle all over the United States, it will be a vivid reminder of the spirit of Flag day for weeks and months afterwards. On July 4 he hopes to see the flags of the United Nations likewise flown from the top of the huge shaft. Who is this “No. 1 Flag-Waver"? His name is J. Henry Smythe Jr., he is a University of Pennsylvania graduate and he has been responsible for several such spectacular events which dramatize patriotic celebra tions. Back in 1920, as an assistant director of the New York Red Cross roll call, he planned a pilgrimage to the Statue of Liberty where a 100 foot high Red Cross flag decked the base. This celebration, the first of its kind ever held there, commemo rated the centenary of Florence Nightingale’s birth and for it Smythe (who, incidentally, is known “We’re In It—Let’s Win It!” cries J. Henry (“Slogan”) Smythe Jr. as “the slogan champion of the world”) paid tribute to the "Lady of the Red Cross Lamp" thus: That lamp of Florence Nightingale, Like Freedom's Torch, must never fail. In 1937, as a member of the mayor's committee, he managed the Constitution week program on Bedloe’s island which was the prin cipal observance of the 150th anni versary of the adoption of the Con stitution. There were fireworks at night and, as "The Star Spangled Banner” was sung, "bombs burst ing in air gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.” But stage-managing such specta cles is only one of his many achievements. He Is responsible for the nation-wide observance of Janu ary 17 as Franklin day. Smythe started that in 1921—previously only Philadelphia had thus honored the immortal Ben. Smythe, however, is probably best known as a sloganeer. He won his reputation in that role during World War I. Barred from the fighting forces by defective vision, he went overseas as a lieutenant in the American Red Cross. But his great est service was in thinking up and donating slogans to help win the war—more than 1,000 of them. Among them were “Buy and Keep Liberty Bonds!”, “Do Your Bit to Keep It Lit!” (the Torch of Lib erty), "Lend It to End It!”, “Buy Bonds to Arm Armies!” and one which was very popular in England —“Lend That Shilling for Shelling!” Now that we’re at war again, he's at it again. Right after Pearl Harbor he swung into action with “We’re In It—Let’s Win It!”, “Our Taxes Lick the Axis!”, “On to Rome and Berlin! Bonds Help Us Win!” and hundreds more. And even be fore Gen. “Jimmy” Doolittle and his daredevils had swooped down upon Japan, J. Henry (“Slogan”) Smythe was suggesting “Let’s Go to Tokyo!” Smythe, who calls himself a “Philadelphia-born New Yorker,” first won fame in 1904 when he went to the Republican convention in Chi cago. Right after the nomination of “Teddy” Roosevelt, Smythe reached the platform with a flag a’nd a megaphone and shouted "All togeth-1 er now—three cheers for the Presi dent!” Then: “Roos-e-velt! Roos-e velt! Roos-e-velt!,” The roar of cheers nearly tore off the roof of the convention hall and the 20-year old Pennsylvanian became known all over the country as “The G. O. P. Megaphone Man.” Newest Beach and Swim Suits Feature Dressmaker Influence By CIIERIE NICHOLAS ONE glance at the new bathing apparel gives us the heartening assurance that there will be no lack of charm, versatility or fashion interest on the beach tiffs summer. Wool and rubber priorities have only added fresh impetus to an already important trend toward a wider use of other fabrics this sea son than usual to make up for the curtailment in other directions. All of which means for swim wear a glamorous and exciting collection of graceful and flattering suits in a wide range of intriguing materials with very special emphasis on hand some rayon weaves which include such interesting textures as shan tungs, jerseys, luxurious looking crepes, taffetas, failles and many other types. Calicoes and ging hams, too, have their place in the swim suit realm, as do piques, fine sharkskins and many other striking novelties. Another important new angle to beach wear and swim-suit fashions is the dressmaker influence which prevails throughout their styling. That is not surprising, for the wide spread use of a surprisingly long list of fabrics would inevitably call for dressmaker technique in their styling, and you may be sure the designers are making the most of it. You can swim this year in a softly draped or moulded dressmaker suit of fine rayon crepe or sleek jersey, or be gay and perky in a trim, bare-midriff halter and shorts cos tume of brisk acetate rayon shark skin. You’ll see, also, "little girl” ruffled suits in crisp rayon taffeta, gingham or quaint calicoes. There are tailored princess styles galore in such rich materials as the new and very fashionable failles and shantungs which offer a range of most lovely brilliant and dusky col ors. The swim suits pictured in the above illustration subscribe to the new dressmaker trend in versatile moods. Note the pert fash ion at the top left in the group. The fact that it is fashioned of a fine rayon shantung in a sooty black is significant, for black is the smartest thing you can wear in play clothes. Black linens, thin black mesh weaves and black shantungs are also ultra chic for town wear in tai lored jacket suit or two-piece jacket dresses. A thin white edging at neck and hem accents the rich black of the shantung that makes this flattering princess swim suit, with its '‘bra*’-topped bodice, slen der waistline and gracefully flared skirt. The narrow self-fabric sash ties at the front. The vogue for fluid, molded lines has inspired the charming two-piece j bathing suit shown at the upper right, which uses soft-draping ace tate rayon jersey in a striking navy and white print design for its sur plice-draped ,,bra"-top and new shirred-on dirndl skirt. Very gay for beach or swimming is the flared one-piece suit at the lower left. It is intriguingly styled of rustling rayon taffeta in a tiny green and white check. Sprightly self ruffles outlined with navy rick rack braid trim the brief skirt and flattering heart-shaped decolletage. The beautifully tailored two-piece bathing suit in crisp white rayon sharkskin seen on the figure reclin ing in the foreground to the right is trimmed with bows and a wide band of coin-dotted navy rayon crepe. The use here made of polka dots car ries out the newly fashionable use of dots as trimming for accessories, and for whole costumes. (Released by Western Newspaper Union.) Party Finery .— — Even this six-year-old isn't too young for a beauty lesson that makes flowers its theme. See the pretty posy in her hair. Young girls, and children, too, are taking to wearing flowers in the hair in stead of hair ribbons. As to the cun ning bouquet she is carrying in her hand, it is a replica in miniature of the one her mother will be wearing. Yes, indeed, matching bouquets of snapdragons, carnations and sweet heart roses make charming gifts for traveling or far-away soldier hus bands and fathers to wire to mother and daughter when the calendar points to a birthday or some other very special event. Flowers, like the bright colors being featured this sea son, help to cheer both the wearer and those who see her looking so daintily charming. And it’s her duty to look charming! Many Still Prefer Black - and - White Regardless of all the fuss being made over viviu color and plenty of it, many women are turning enthu siastically to black and white. They consider the costume ensem ble ideal that includes a black and white print frock done in the latest manner of side drape, finished off with a pleated frill and pleated col lar fitted to a low neckline. This is topped with a black straw wide brimmed hat crowned with waxen white gardenias. The shoes (low heeled pumps) and the bag should be in glistening patent leather. Cotton Lace Suits Join List of Summer ‘Musts’ Lace is good news these days, for it is one item that is not on the gov ernment “want list.” Very swank for summer is cotton lace in a large sporty pattern made into jacket and skirt suits for summer day wear. You can get bewitching suits with skirts pleated for action, topped with jackets of the favorite long-torso type that so beautifully slenderizes your figure. In navy these lace suits are too attractive looking for words, and for dressy summer wear a white or wheat-color lace suit gives you a costume that will take you anywhere with an assurance of being account ed among the best dressed. Black Lace There is a new fashion developing which is worth while considering. It is the blouse that is made of the most exquisite black lace you can' find in the stores. Make it up sim ply but effectively. Wear it in the afternoon with a black satin or taf feta skirt and in the evening, with a diaphanous chiffon skirt in lovely pastel coloring. Soil Building Measure* Help Seeding* Tests Over Eight Years Show Interesting Results By J. F. DAVIS Research Assistant Department of Soil Science, Michigan State College. How soil building measures im prove not only the yield but the quality of seedings and small grains was demonstrated by an experiment carried on by the soil science de partment of Michigan State college. Th program covered an eight year period and included crop rota tion. the use of commercial fertiliz er and a green manure crop plowed under. The rotation — corn, oats, wheat and alfalfa for two years, with sweet clover plowed down once in eight years—is typical for a large number of farms in north-central United States. For every dollar spent for fertiliz er a return of $3.60 was realized, according to a tabulation of the results. In the experiment, 15# pounds of 4-16-4 fertilizer per acre applied to the oats and 250 pounds ot 4-16-4 on wheat, seeded to alfalfa, resulted in an increase of 4.9 bushels of oats, 8.1 bushels of wheat and 1 ton of alfalfa hay. That all the advantages gained from the use of fertilizers cannot be measured in increased yields alone was shown by the fact that a dis tinct improvement in quality was re corded, with plumper kernels and less shrunken grains. From the particular land devoted to this experiment the farmer exhibits grain samples, and when selecting his show samples he invariably dis cards grain from unfertilized plots. Fertilizer applications proved more effective in some years than others. The average oats increase due to fertilizer was 4.9 bushels per acre. However, in 1936 this increase was 9.8 bushels and in 1940 it was 8.9 bushels. The wheat yield showed corresponding variations. In 193S the Increase in yield due to fertiliser was 18 bushels per acre; in 1939, 10.1; In 1940, 19.9; and In 1941, 44 bushels. Wheat grown on unferti lized plots was invariably of inferior quality to wheat produced on fer tilized plots. Moreover, the lower the yield on unfertilized plots, the poorer the quality of grain. In another series of tests the 1940 alfalfa yield was more than doubled by fertilizing the preceding barley crop. A plot ferilized with 200 pounds of 0-20-0 and eight loads of manure per acre applied on the barley, yielded 2.11 tons of alfalfa on the first cutting. The yield of plots re ceiving no fertilizer was .98 tons, and on plots on which manure alone was applied the yield was 1.65 tons. -\ AGRICULTURE IN INDUSTRY ■o By FLORENCE C. WEED (Tbit i* oat el a aetiea ol articlea aborn ing bow farm producta are boding am im portant market in induatry.) Oil Plants To find out whether oil plants might be profitably grown in thii country, the National Farm Ctaem urgic Council has distributed seeds for test plantings. Farmers from Maine to California have tested the seeds and reported their results which are often favorable. With dis turbed world conditions, imports may be still further curtailed and there may be a need for domestic oil to supplant the foreign supply. Sunflower seed finds a ready mar ket for birdseed and poultry feed mixtures. Our domestic supply of about 7,000,000 pounds is grown in Illinois, Missouri and California. It is an old crop which the Indians on the east shore of Lake Huron raised for their needs. They used stalks for cloth, leaves for fodder, flowers for yellow dye. Since 1936, a small amount of rapeseed oil has been crushed each year in this country. It is used as a lubricant, mixed with minerals, and finds a place in the manufac ture of rubber substitutes Safflower has been investigated as a possible oilseed crop for the north ern states. It is a quick drying oil and can be used in the manufac ture of paints, varnishes and enam els. In India, the blossoms are used for saffron dye and the oil is used for light. The Perilla plant grows best in the cotton belt, especially in south ern Virginia. It is difficult to han dle, however, because the seeds burst from their pods when ripe. Agricultural Notes We in the Farm Security adminis tration started out to relieve the eco nomic plight of disadvantaged farm people. We learned certain funda mentals—that you build an econom ically sound life not on credit or even the land itself. You build it on the people.—C. B, Baldwin, FSA administrator, U. S. department of agriculture in a speech before a farmers’ meeting.