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.
%
