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.
