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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 27, 1942)
By ARTHUR STRINGER W N U.SER.VlCt THE STORY SO FAR: Although he •aspects him of being up to something, Alan Slade has agreed to fly a "scientist" named Frayne and his partner, Karnell, to the Anawotto river to look for the breeding ground of the trumpeter swan. Frayne has paid them well enough to enable Alan’s partner, Cruger, to buy a Lockheed that will help Norland Airways meet the crushing competition of the larger companies. Before leaving, Alan helps Lynn Moriock, daughter of the “fly ing Padre," give first aid treatment to an outcast flyer named Slim Tumstead and learns that Tumstead knows about the plane and about Frayne’s expedi tion. During that night the new plane is stolen by a masked man who heads north. En route to the Anawotto Slade’s plane runs out of gas and they spend the night at the cabin of his prospector friends, Zeke and Minty, where Slade keeps a gas cache. Frayne shows no interest in either gold or pitchblende, the latter a newly discovered source of pow er. But the next morning, when they have been in the air only a short time, Frayne decides to land and stay there on the Kasakana instead of going to the Anawotto. Now, while Alan is on his way back, Lynn and her father are planning to operate on Umanak, a blind Eskimo, in the hope of restoring his sight. Lynn has Just suggested that they try to reach Alan and have him bring the supplies they need for the op eration. Now continue with the story. CHAPTER VIII So while the radio searched the Barrens for the whereabouts of Alan Slade the abandoned, Iviuk Inlet store-shed had been taken over as an emergency hospital. It had been scrubbed and disinfected and fitted with a homemade operating table and instrument stand. Lynn turned from the sea front and walked up the slope to its rough boarded walls. She tried to tell herself that it wasn’t for the man with the Viking •yes that she was waiting. No, she stubbornly contended, it wasn’t for Alan she was waiting. It was for those needed supplies he was bringing in to them. Her thoughts, a moment later, went to other things. She crossed to the door, convinced that she had heard the faint and far-off hum of a motor. She scanned the gray blue sky and searched the long line of the lilac-tinted horizon above the southern muskeg fields. But all she could see was an arrowhead of blue geese winging silently north ward. She was still at the door when she observed that Kogaluk was lead ing old Umanak through the topek huddle toward her. “You hear um?” Kogaluk sur prised her by asking. “Hear what?” questioned the girl, still again searching the horizon. It was Umanak who answered. “The devil-bird that comes from aowhere, and go nowhere. I hear am go for two days now.” “What does he mean?” Lynn in guired of the slant-eyed Kogaluk. The young Eskimo woman found it hard to explain. “Um a plane, a ghost plane,” she finally asserted. “But your father can’t see," Lynn persisted. “No see,” said Umanak. “But hear um. Hear um two, three days now.” “But it couldn't just melt away,” said Lynn. “It must have gone somewhere.” Kogaluk's braided head nodded unexpected assent. “Um go to Echo Harbor,” she asserted. “That harbor on sea, full of devil voices. Echo Harbor taboo to our people.” “But what could it do there?” It was Umanak who answered. “If Umanak have good eyes him go see. Me no afraid devil voices.” He squared his sturdy old shoulders. “When was the last time you thought you heard this ghost plane?” asked the young white woman. They were, she knew, countless miles away from any pos sible air route. “Me hear um today,” said Uma nak. And he said it with convic tion. Lynn gave some thought to this. She was still trying to persuade her self that these credulous and child hearted people were merely fabri cating a mystery out of something that could and would be quickly re duced to the commonplace. But even as she stood there she could see old Umanak stiffen in his tracks. “Me hear um now,” was his abrupt cry of triumph. His hearing, apparently, was keener than the others’. For when Lynn stepped forward, with strain ing ears, She could hear nothing. “Me hear um,” repeated the old Eskimo. But Lynn disregarded his cry. For as her coasting gaze wandered back and forth along the southern skyline she caught sight of a small speck that grew bigger as she watched. “That’s no ghost plane, Uma nak,” she cried. “That’s Alan Slade with his Snow-Ball Baby and the supplies we’ve been waiting for.” The Flying Padre, waiting at the water’s edge as Slade came ashore, promptly noted the sense of strain on the bush pilot’s face. “What’s wrong?” promptly ques tioned Padre. “A bit of bad luck,” said Slade. “We’ve lost our Lockheed.” “A crash?” The tired face became grim. “That’s what I have to find out.” Slade indicated his armful of pack The young Eskimo woman found it hard to explain. “Urn a ghost plane.” ages. “I shouldn’t be here. But 1 knew you needed this stuff.” The Flying Padre’s smile was an understanding one. “Yes, Lynn’s waiting for it,” he casually observed. He also ob served that a little of the shadow went from the Viking blue eyes. “Then she’s here?” he asked. The Padre nodded. “She'll be anchored here for a couple of weeks with an eye case. But she’s been worrying about you.” The gaze of the two men locked for a moment. Slade was the first to emerge from that moment of abstraction. “I caught up this mail for you at Yellowknife,” he said as he handed letters and papers to the older man. Slade’s eyes rested on that older man, bareheaded and gaunt in the revealing arctic sunlight, as the let ters were examined. Lynn was right; her father was not so young as he had once been. Yet if there was any inner weariness there it was masked by a quick decisive ness of movement that spoke of a mind still active and a will still strong. “These are for Lynn,” the Fly ing Padre was saying as he inspect ed two bulky envelopes embossed with English stamps. “They’ve come a long way,” ob served Slade. “Yes, from Barrett. He’s at Al dershot now.” Slade felt a little of the warmth go out of the sunlight. "And these are the drugs and things,” he explained as they mount ed the knoll to the plain-boarded little surgery. Slade pushed through the cluster of natives about the door, disturbed by the quicker pounding of his heart Then he saw Lynn, all in white. She was boiling something in a test tube, over an alcohol lamp. “Here’s Alan,” announced her fa ther. "He’s brought you two letters from Barrett.” She took the letters, not uncon scious that two pair of questioning eyes were resting on her. But her gaze remained abstracted as she glanced at the bulky envelopes and placed them on the window sill. “They’ll have to wait,” she said. Then her face lost its abstraction as she smiled up at Slade. “And you’ve got our supplies,” she cried with a note of relief that brought no par ticular joy to the bush pilot bear ing them. “That means we can get busy,” the Flying Padre proclaimed. Slade’s frown deepened as he stood watching the nondescript line of Innuits that formed outside the door of their improvised surgery. “When is this bread line of the igloos over?" he asked. “Why?” asked the busy nurse. “Because I rather wanted to talk to you,” asserted the flyer, touched with a feeling of jealousy at the re newed discovery of how this white clad reliever of pain could remain so immersed in her work. Then, for a moment, she emerged from the shell. He saw, or thought he saw, a fleeting look of hunger in her eyes. But that look vanished as the Flying Padre called out: “Is Umanak ready?” “Not yet,” she answered. “Don't you think it’s rather worth while?” Lynn questioned. “I suppose so, trouble-shooter," he responded lightly. It was worth something to be there at her side. “Then you can help me scrub up old Umanak,” Lynn said with a smile. “Dad's going to do that cat aractemy on him this morning. And something tells me it’s the first hot water bath he ever had." “We’ll probably have to hold him down,” said Slade. But Umanak, to their surprise, was not averse to his bath. “Urn good,” he murmured. “What kept you late?” Lynn asked as she toweled her patient dry and proceded to robe him in flannelette pajamas that were much too long for him. “Then you were waiting for me?” he challenged. There was a tinge of hope in his voice. “For our supplies,” was her re sponse. “I had to swing back to Jackpine Point to refuel,” Slade said in a slightly hardened voice. “There’s a gas thief loose somewhere *n this dis trict. My cache -■ <■ was cleaned out.” “But who could have done it? questioned Lynn. "It’s such empty country.” “That’s what I intend to find out,” Slade told her with determination. Lynn stood upright, fixed by the sudden thought of the ghost plane. But before that thought was put into words the Flying Padre ap peared in his pontifical-looking sur gical gown. “If you’ve time to sit in on this,” he said with one eye on the flyer and one on his waiting instruments, “you can wash up and help. It’s a rather interesting bit of work.” "Will the old boy see again?” “That’s what we’re counting on,” said the man of medicine. “But Umanak speaks a little English, re member.” “Me see the devil-bird that go no where after you make eyes good,” proclaimed the patient. There was sureness in the delicate movements of the doctor’s fingers, but Slade couldn’t rid his mind of the thought that one small slip might mean disaster. One wrong move could mean blindness for life. He was glad when the bandages were about the swarthy-skinned old face, concealing what had been done to it. “Is that all you do?” Slade in quired. He tried to make the ques tion seem a casual one. But he found himself touched by a new re spect for a calling which he had so recently been tempted to dis parage. “That’s all we can do,” said the Flying Padre, “for the present. But Lynn is going to stay on and look after Umanak. I've a couple of men ingitis cases at Cape Morrow that mustn’t be neglected.” "And he’ll be able to see again?” persisted the skeptic-minded lay man. “Of course he’ll see again,” was Lynn’s low-noted reply as she tucked a warmed four-pointer about her pa tient. “Me see devil-bird that go no where,” murmured Umanak. Slade stood suddenly arrested by those murmured words. He knew well enough what a devil-bird was to a native. “What does he mean by that?” “He keeps saying he can hear a ghost plane, a devil-bird that come3 and goes along the coast-line,” Lynn explained. “And his daughter Kog aluk claims she's seen it, flying low between here and Echo Harbor.” It was Dr. Morlock who spoke next. "I suppose,” he said as he checked over instruments and bot tles and stowed them away in his abraded bag, “you'll be heading south tomorrow?” Slade crossed to the window and looked out along the empty and in terminable skyline. “No," he said, “I’m not going south tomorrow.” “What are you going to do?” j asked Lynn, startled by the grim ness of his face. “I think I’ll look into this devil bird business,” he said as his nar rowed gaze rested on the horizon. For just above that horizon he | caught sight of a small and ghost like gnat of silver winging its reso lute way southward above the dark line of the muskeg country. It 1 looked as insubstantial as a soap j bubble. But Slade, as the silver fleck J finally vanished, told himself that he knew a plane when he saw one. “Where'll that take you?” the Fly ing Padre was asking. “I don’t know yet,” said Slade. "But I’ve an idea it’ll end up some where along the Anawotto.” “I’ll go down to the plane with you,” she said as she joined Slade in the doorway. When she returned to the knoll top surgery, a few minutes later, her waiting father detected both a new light in her eyes and a deeper line of thought between her brows. She had the look of a worn- ! an who had been kissed and, hav ing been kissed, found the world a different shape. The Padre’s own face took on a deeper line of thought. “How about Alan?” Instead of answering, Lynn crossed to the window. There, aft er a glance out over the empty rock ridges, she took up the two letters lying on the sill. “Let’s see what Barrett has to say,” she observed with a forced casualness. (TO BE CONTINUED) Released by Western Newspaper Union. Liberty—There She Stands! ALL over the world human lib erty is being curbed or threat ened by the German and Japanese war lords, but here in the United States still stands this gigantic sym bol that men must and will be free. It was more than half a century ago that > France, then re | cently freed from a German inva sion, gave this symbol to a sister republic to com memorate the cen tennial of her suc cessful struggle for liberty. Today France again lies | prostrate under the " German heel but in the hearts of her liberty-loving people is the cer \ tain knowledge L that from the □I shores of the land where stands tne Statue of Liberty will come the armed millions that will make them free once more. There is an Interesting connection between the conception of that statue 70-odd years ago and the struggle that is going on today for the preservation of the ideal which it symbolizes. The man who con ceived it was not simply an artist with an abstract ideal of freedom. He had known from bitter experi ence how easy it is for a nation to lose its liberty and the heavy price it must pay to regain it. At the outbreak of the Franco Prussian war in 1870, Frederic Auguste Bartholdi, an Alsatian sculptor, laid aside his chisel to take up a gun in defense of his coun try. He served as a leader of troops and then as a member of Garibaldi’s staff in the Vosges but when the war ended he was homeless, for his native city of Colmar was in the hands of the Germans and Paris was ruled by the Commune. As early as 1865 Bartholdi had conceived the idea of a memorial to the long-enduring friendship be tween France and the United States but he was unable to interest his countrymen in the project until the conflict of 1870-71 with Germany. Then the sympathy shown by Amer icans for the French in that struggle moved them to make some tangible FREDERIC AUGUSTE BARTHOLDI gesture of appreciation and Barthol di was able to persuade an influen tial group of Frenchmen to attempt to finance such a project even though their country, recently ravished by the invaders, was struggling to pay the heavy war indemnity imposed by the conquerors. He was commissioned by this group to design and execute the memorial and was sent to America to look over the ground. As his ship entered New York harbor he im mediately decided that an island in the harbor would be the most fitting site. A committee to raise funds for the statue was formed in 1874 and the plan won the immediate ap proval of the French people. Money came from 180 French cities, 40 gen eral councils and from thousands of citizens until the cost of the statue, $250,000, was met. Erection of the base for the statue and the work of installing it on Bedloe’s island, which was paid for by popular sub scription in the United States, brought the total cost to $600,000. Although it was planned to erect the statue in 1876, as a part of the cele bration of 100 years of freedom in this country, it was not until Octo ber 28, 1886, that it was dedicated. “It was an intensely disagreeable day, with an incessant drizzle of cold rain, the streets muddy and the harbor overhung with a curtain of mist,” writes one historian. “But the Americans demonstrated their interest in liberty was more than a sunshine affair by going through with the program as planned . . . Bartholdi saw the President of the Republic standing bareheaded in the rain, returning the salutes of an army of Americans, who were marching to the waterfront for a glimpse of the Goddess his art had created.” Back-to-School Clothes Made Of Smart, Practical Cottons By CHERIE NICHOLAS SO FAR as the “clothes” program is concerned, exciting moments are ahead for teen-aged school girls and their collegiate sisters. The new styles fascinate with their refresh ing originality, their bright and lovely colors and their altogether different outlook from that of past seasons. There’s just one thrill after an other in promise for those assem bling back-to-school wardrobes, one of the "thrillingest” of which is the acceptance of cotton as smart and wearable for fall and winter. It took wartime scarcity of other fibers to break down the tradition that cotton is just for warm-weather wear or for the workaday house dress and such. Actually cottons can be warm as well as cool. Now that fashion has grown keen ly cotton conscious, new uses of it are being played up which hold promise of surprises and exciting in terest for everybody A new order of experience is awaiting school far ing youngsters in that they are going to have the fun of selecting a com plete wardrobe expressed in terms of cotton from start to finish. The new fall cottons are of such tremen dous scope they take in every phase of school fashion as seen in coats, suits, dresses, accessories and lin gerie. The cotton fabric list includes corduroys, velveteens, twills, whip cords, black poplins, ginghams, homespuns and challis. Not only are the new fall and win ter cotton weaves breathtaking in their colors (especially the new vel veteens and corduroys), but the new style developments are so outstand ingly different in technique there isn’t going to be a dull moment in the entire procedure of getting a smart and practical back-to-school wardrobe together. Each of the fashions pictured in the above illustration serves as a prophecy of what is to be in the way of smart fall trends. Considering these styles from the viewpoint of the wearers themselves young Miss America shown to the left in the group is probably soliloquizing in this wise—“I hope I’ll be as smart in courses as I am about clothes, because I really think I’d made the dean's list if my cotton whipcord bolero suit with braid outlining the jacket and cuffs and velveteen col lar could count for credit! Well, I’m on my way to a lecture but I have a feeling I’m going to have a time of it keeping my mind from wandering off into thoughts of the jigger coat I’ve ordered made of one of the new priority fleeces woven on cotton backing and cunningly lined with bright quilted cotton suit ing.” “Now what do I need for my next class (bright girl centered in the picture speaking)? My clothes ought to help the intelligent impres sion I'm going to make, because they are so right for the campus and show I used my head in choosing washable cottons. My jumper is green pin wale corduroy with a chic dirndl-like skirt and handy slash pockets, and my woolly cotton blouse is inspiringly cheerful in col or. I’m so glad jumper dresses are ‘the style’ for with blouse changes a jumper dress is a whole wardrobe in one. I’m finding a lot of satis faction in knowing that the plaid I'm wearing washes ‘just like new,’ and my pinwale corduroy skirt goes through a soap-and-water beauty treatment as nice as you please!” ‘‘I’m starting my sophomore year,” says Miss Collegiate to the right in the group, “and after two semesters in college I know what’s what, what’s done and what’s worn, such as my peasant corduroy skirt slipped over—guess what? A cotton challis play suit for lounging around! I adore the slenderizing lines of this play suit cut princess bodice-and shorts fashion. Don’t you think the challis has a cunning rose pattern ing? Be sure to notice the full looking skirt with intriguing pockets which looks as if it took yards and yards, but designers are clever these days about using not even an inch of material over the amount allowed under WPB regulations. They’ve learned to get maximum fullness with minimurp yardage.” Released by Western Newspaper Union. Barbecue Dirndl Now that backyard barbecue par ties are so popular on the home entertaining program, designers are creating fashions that are pictorial ly perfect for the occasion. This winsome outfit is of cotton percale in a quaint print. It has a square neckline, puffed sleeves and corselet lacing up the blouse front. The dirndl skirt is protected by a cute apron with capacious pockets. Felt Hats Crowned By Dizzy Heights The most noticeable thing about the new felt hats is their crowns, which mount to dizzy heights. To add to their spectacular rise in the world they are manipulated into fan tastic shapes which are breathtak ing in their daring and their origi nality. Designed to be worn with suits are small cloche brims with tall taper ing crowns, some with self-bow ac cents, others having their outlines softened with gracefully dangling tassels. Feathers galore will also adoro the new hats. You can get all plumage turbans, or, if it’s a huge felt beret you are wearing, it has more than likely taken on a spec tacular coq sweep in vivid coloring. Felts also are taking on intriguing crochet accents. Colors important in millinery displays include salute blue, commando tan, Australian green and a goodly showing of gray, Tip to Toe A costume formula that is in for a tremendous vogue calls for a suit made up of a velveteen skirt topped with a cardigan velvet jacket. Car ry with this one of the new velve teen drawstring pouch bags, and be sure that the velveteen bumper-be ret you wear matches, too. You can carry the ensemble out in mono tone color or contrast matching bag and hat with the suit. By VIRGINIA VALE Released by Western Newspaper Union, □OW that Vera Zorina has been removed from the role of “Maria” in “For Whom the Bell Tolls,” and Ingrid Bergman has been as signed to it, a lot of people are much happier. The role seems made for Miss Berg man. The change wasn’t made without a struggle; ex tra tests were made after the first few days’ work, but fin ally out came the dancer. Paramount announces that this did not in any way impair the star's career, and put Somerset Maugham's “The Hour Before Dawn" into preparation for her. -* Metro’s talking about opening "Seven Sisters” simultaneously In America’s aeven most roman tic cities; If you think yours is one of them, they ask you to send in statistics! Of course, Savannah, Charleston and New Orleans ought to be on the list. But let’s hope that they won’t ignore smaller towns when they make their decision, the ones that are really representative of modern American life. -* When Katharine Hepburn made her first picture, “A Bill of Divorce ment," Adelyn Doyle was her stand in. When Adelyn married, her sis ter Patricia took over the job. Pat KATHARINE HEPBURN J married, and Miss Hepburn recently began “Keeper of the Flame” with Katharine Doyle as stand-in. There are two more Doyle sisters, so it looks as if the supply would last as long as the star’s in the movie busi ness. -* Remember David Niven? Nigel Bruce, working in “Journey for Margaret,” had a letter from him saying that he's now a major in England’s armed forces. And Rob ert Montgomery has been promoted by Uncle Sam’s navy from com mander to squadron commander. -* Alice Faye will return to the screen soon after more than six months' absence, to do a musical picture called “Hello, Frisco, Hel lo.” It’s another of those costume pictures—she must be getting sort of tired of them—with a story laid in 1900. -* When Connie Boswell sings "He Wears a Pair of Silver Wings” it’s more than just a song to her. It’s a salute to her young brother-in law, Ben Leedy, a flier-to-be sta tioned at Mitchel Field. If you’ve seen her work you’ll recall him, rushing out of the wings to lift her into her wheel chair, hurrying out again to take her off stage. She sings it as often as she can on the Friday "Caravan” show. -* The kitten, “Zero,” heard fre quently on "Those We Love” broad casts, is played by that very ver satile actress, Virginia Sale. She also portrays the principal role of “Martha” in the drama series. You’ve seen her in pictures. _-jh_ For weeks Phil Baker had USO headquarters in New York search ing for service men named Baker— wanted them for his anniversary and birthday broadcast of August 23, when only persons named Baker could take part in “Take It Or Leave It.” Celebrities who qualified were numerous enough, starting with Bonnie, Benny, Kenny and Belle. But the program was in complete without men in uniform. -* June Havoc caught the mumps from her young daughter, April, and promptly exposed the entire company of “My Sister Eileen” to them; hadn’t the faintest idea she had them. She says she looked as if she were wearing a small balloon for a necktie. -* Jack Briggs is going to find “Seven Miles From Alcatraz” es pecially interesting, if he gets a chance to see it. The young RKO contract player enlisted in the ma rines as soon as he was 21; a week later he told his family and the studio what he’d done—on the very day that RKO announced him for a pair of important roles in “Ladies’ Day” and "Seven Miles From Al catraz." He just had time to finish the for mer when he had to report lor active duty. %