By ARTHUR STRINGER W.N.U. SERVICE
THE STORY SO FAR: In order to
save Norland Airways from bank
ruptcy Alan Slade agrees to fly a so
called scientist named Frayne and his
assistant, Karnell, to the Anawotto river
In search of the trumpeter swan. With
the proceeds Slade's partner, Cruger,
has bought a plane, a Lockheed, which Is
stolen while Slade is away. Suspecting
that the disappearance of the plane has
something to do with Frayne, Slade re
turns to where be left the swan-hunter,
only to find him apparently doing uothing
but bunt swans. There is no trace of
the plane. That leaves Slade with only
one clue, the “devil bird,” or "ghost”
plane which the eskimo, Cmanak, first
heard and which appears to come from
Echo Harbor. On his way back to re
port to Cruger Slade stops to see his
old prospector friends, Zeke and Minty,
and learns that the gas cache he keeps
near their cabin has been robbed. Now
he and Cruger are talking and Slade is
outlining his plans.
Now continue with the story.
CHAPTER XI
Slade’s first impulse was to pro
claim that he’d be looking for a
ghost plane.
“All right,” Cruger said out of a
prolonged silence. “You win. Give
that Anawotto country the once-over.
We’re going bust anyway, the way
things are.”
Slade’s lips thinned with resolu
tion.
“I’m going to find that Lockheed,”
he affirmed.
Cruger remained unimpressed.
“When do you start?” he inquired.
'Slade disregarded the note of
mockery.
“As soon as I have a look around
this burg,” was his slightly abstract
ed reply. “And then a look around
McMurray.”
“For what?”
“To find a friend of mine,” was
Slade's unexpected reply, “who got
hurt in a fight—Slim Tumstead.”
“I didn’t think you played around
with camp bums," said Cruger.
“What’s your fighting friend got to
do with this trip into the Anawotto?”
“I don’t know yet,” was Slade’s
quiet-voiced reply. “But it’s going
to help a little to know just where
he’s hanging out.”
The cabin on the Kasakana, nes
tling between its shouldering hills,
stood a place of peace as the sun
mounted high above the spruce
ridges and the spoonbills and wav
eys fed in the water shallows.
But that air of peace departed
once Zeke Pratt had rolled out of
his wall bunk and reached for his
scarred old larrigans. From one
of them, he saw, a lace was most
unmistakably missing. He squinted
about the floor boards. Then he
groped and grunted about under the
bunk end. Then his narrowing gaze
centered on his camp-mate, whose
smile was bland as he busied him
self slicing sowbelly for breakfast.
"You took my shoelace, you Ju
das-souled old skillet-swabber,” was
Zeke's indignant accusation.
"What’d I want with your shoe
lace?" demanded Minty, edging
away until he stood at the far side
of the cookstove.
“You wanted it enough to swipe
it from this-here larrigan,” charged
Zeke. He dropped down on all fours
to inspect his companion’s shoe
packs. “And she’s there, wrapped
around your scrofulous old shin
bone.”
"She ain’t,” piped Minty.
“You gimme back that lace o’
mine, or d’you know what I’ll do?
I’ll call it quits for keeps. I don’t
aim to do minin’ work with a human
polecat who robs a camp-mate in
his sleep.”
“And I’m sure fed up with tryin’
to live peaceful under the same roof
with a rattlesnake in larrigans.”
But by the time they had eaten,
the hurricane had blown itself out.
They were forlornly dependent on
each other, in their isolation, and
they knew it
"Meat’s gittn lower’n I like to
see it” ventured Minty as he hung
up the flour sack that served as a
towel. “S’posin’ you finish up the
strippin’ on that new dike while I
go scoutin’ for a day or two.”
“What’ll you scout for?” demand
ed Zeke, secretly disturbed by the
thought of being alone.
“Spotted a buck out by that old
caribou crossin’ yesterday,” said
Minty. “Reckon I’ll go after him.”
He had, he knew, a second reason
for that excursion out over the
northern ridges. He had a hanker
ing to nose about a bit and find out
what might be bringing an outsid
er’s plane into that district of theirs.
Minty was too good a woodsman
not to spot his landmarks and blaze
an occasional spruce or jackpine as
he pushed deeper and deeper into
the broken country north of the Kas
akana. He went on, hour after si
lent hour, encouraged by a showing
of deer tracks and spoor. But he
got no glimpse of his buck.
What most occupied his mind, as
the sun lowered and weariness over
took him, was the problem of find
ing a comfortable place to make
camp. And he had the needed wood
and water, he discovered, when he
came to a loon-haunted lake lightly
fringed with spruce. He stoically
made his Are, cooked his supper,
and ate his bannock and bacon,
washed down with strong tea. Then,
lighting his pipe, he sat watching
the wild fowl on the lake water.
To the silent watcher, a moment
later, came a sound that was neither
a throb nor a drone, a far-away
The hungry look was still in her eyes. But the world had come back to her.
sound that grew stronger as he lis
tened. Peering north, where a be
lated sun still hung red above the
horizon, he caught sight of a plane.
It was flying low, growing bigger
as he watched. It showed dark, at
first, against the evening light But
as it came closer and veered a point
or two into the wind it became a
framework of ghostly white, heeling
down in the lake and slowly losing
headway on the ruffled water.
Minty, blinking at the pallid
wings, realized the ship was both
bigger than Lindy Slade’s Snow-Ball
Baby and different in outline. It
floated higher on the water, and
gave the impression of being bob
tailed, as it drifted slowly in to
ward the shoreline where the spruce
groves met the water.
Then Minty rubbed his eyes and
blinked harder than ever. For, be
fore he quite knew how or when,
the plane had disappeared from
sight
Minty, who didn’t believe in mira
cles, decided to look into what had
all the aspects of a miraculous dis
appearance. He smothered his fire
and rolled up his worn old four
pointer. Then he took up his rifle
and quietly rounded the southerly
arm of the lake, making it a point
to keep as well under cover as
possible.
But no sign of life, as he stopped
from time to time, stood revealed
to him. He seemed so alone in a
world of twilit emptiness that he
fell to wondering, as he pressed on,
if his old eyes had been playing
tricks on him.
Then he stopped short, arrested
by the sound of voices.
“Why’d you have a fire on the oth
er side of the lake?” one of these
voices inquired.
“I had no fire,” a more guttural
voice responded.
“But I saw it as I came down,”
maintained the other. “And if you
advertise this layout you’ll last
about as long here as a snowball in
hell."
“I had no fire,” was the stubborn
ly repeated protest
Minty’s first impulse was to creep
a little closer. But on second
thought he dropped behind the ridge
and circled back through the scat
tered spruce boles. He noticed, as
he traversed the valley that led to
the neighboring ridge, how the tim
ber had been cut away to leave a
rough trail that led lakeward. He
also noticed, as he skirted this sec
ond ridge, that its black-rocked sur
face was scored and seamed with
shallow trenches, as though a pros
pector had been stripping and
searching for color there.
Minty stood thoughtful a moment
and then made his way higher up
the sloping hogback that terminated
in an abrupt cliff end at the water’s
edge. He crouched low as he went,
for the cover thinned out as he as
cended. But he could no longer
hear voices. That troubled him a
little as he moved forward to the
crest of the divide. From there he
could see how the lake bluff merged
into a darker tangle of timber. And
that timber, he saw, was a man
made canopy of spruce boles. It
was an arbor-cave into which the
wings of a plane could slip and lie
concealed. And under the casually
woven cover that arched the nar
row harbor between the rock-shoul
ders he could make out the pallid
outlines of his vanished airplane.
A tingle eddied through him as he
discerned a roughly made landing
platform close under the plane
wings, a landing platform on which
he saw a double row of ore bags.
They stood there filled and tied, as
though waiting for transport.
Minty’s anxiety for a better view
of those ore bags prompted him to
move to the upper peak of the ridge.
He hesitated about advancing down
the open slope. And as he hesitated
a sudden blast of sound broke the
quietness.
He knew it was a gunshot, even
before he felt the force of the bul
let. The impact of that bullet, tear
ing through the blanket folds within
three inches of his ear, twisted his
startled body halfway around and
sent him tumbling along the rock
slope. He lost possession of his rifle
as he fell. He kept on rolling
and bounding down the long slope
until his body collided with the un
derbrush that fringed the valley bot
tom. From the ridge top he heard
a triumphant voice call out: "I got
himl” But his one impulse, at the
moment, was to put distance be
tween him and that unknown sniper.
He crawled into the underbrush,
grateful for the thinning light that
was paling to semi-darkness. He
wormed forward, seeking always
any deeper cover that offered. He
went on until he came to a stony
cross gully quartering off to the
left Once in this he scrambled to
his feet and ran forward, stooping
low as he went When he spotted a
spruce grove on his right he dove
into it, emerging on a slope of
glacial hardheads along which he
dodged from shadow to shadow.
He neither stopped nor rested un
til he had mounted a second ridge
and lost himself in a second scat
tering of stunted timber. There,
panting and wheezing, he sank down
behind a ridge of granite.
But there was still peril, he felt,
in that neighborhood. He pushed on
through a sludgy bed of tules,
crossed another timbered ridge, and
came to more open country. There
he studied the stars, made sure of
his course, and began fighting his
circuitous way back toward the
camp on the Kasakana. When tired
out he slept. When the sun wakened
him, he ate and went on. The sec
ond night he slept for an hour or
two, and then pushed doggedly on.
The sub-arctic light of morning
was returning to the land when Min
ty reached the shack. Zeke, he
found, was still asleep in his wall
bunk. He awakened him with a
shout tinged with bitterness.
“Your days o’ peace is over, you
pillow-lovin’ old profligate. There’s
goin’ to be war in these regions.”
Lynn was restless and worried.
For the third time in half an hour
she crossed to the door and scanned
the pearl • misted skyline that
stretched away to the south. She
told herself that she was merely
watching for a familiar blue plane
with weathered wings, a plane with
the Flying Padre at the controls.
But her thoughts, as she did so,
were on another plane, an equally
weathered plane known as the
Snow-Ball Baby.
ner wee* oi wu idling over uiu
Umanak had persuaded her that
she was not equipped for solitude.
She turned back to her patient
when she saw Umanak lift his white
swathed head in an attitude of
listening
“Devil-bird come,” he muttered.
A moment later Lynn herself
heard the familiar bee-hum of a
distant motor.
“That’s the Padre,” she said as
she ran to the door. A moment lat
er she was hurrying down the slope
to the waterfront.
But the long-legged figure that
emerged from the cabin was not
that of the Flying Padre. She
brushed back her wind-blown hair
to see Alan striding toward her.
He must have caught the surge of
joy that swept up to her eyes, for
he stopped abruptly and stood
studying her upturned face. He did
not speak. But his own eyes dark
ened as he detected the look of hun
ger in the questioning hazel eyes
resting on his face. He groped for
her hand, with his heart pounding.
Then he took her in his arms.
She roused herself and forced
her quickly breathing body free
of the encircling arms. The
hungry look was still in her
eyes. But time and the world
had come back to her.
“What is it?” he asked, conscious
of the firmness with which she was
holding him away from her.
"I’ve a patient there,” she re
minded him, pointing to the knoll
top surgery.
Slade strode after her as she
moved up the slope. He remem
bered about old Umanak.
“How is the old boy?”
“That's what I’m waiting to find
out,” Lynn explained. "Everything
looks all right, but, of course, I
can’t tell. Father’ll be here, any
time now, to take off the bandages.”
“Will he be able to see?” Slade
asked. "I mean Umanak.”
“If hoping helps any,” answered
Lynn, “that old hunter will be fol
lowing a dog team again before
long.”
Slade arrested her in the door
way.
"I may be out of a job earlier
than I expected," he said.
(TO BE CON TI W i n
I *
Released by Western Newspaper Union.
Forgotten ‘Savior’
THE 200th anniversary of an im
portant event in American his
tory passed almost unnoticed recent
ly—at least, so far as any national
observance of it was concerned. It
was the Battle of Bloody Marsh,
fought near St. Simon’s. Ga., on
July 7, 1742, and this fight was, ac
cording to historians, "one of the
small number of decisive battles of
all time.”
When it ended In victory for the
English colonist! of Georgia it
meant that the English, instead of
the Spanish, should rule over what
is now the southern part of the Unit
ed States. For, had the Spaniards
won that battle, English coloniza
tion in North America might have
stopped at Virginia and our South
ern states might now be a part of
Mexico.
Not only is Bloody Marsh a “for
gotten victory,” but the man who
won it is also something of a "for
gotten hero.” True, most Americans
remember Gen. James Oglethorpe
as the founder of the colony which
became the state of Georgia. But
few, if any of them, know of all his
rights to fame, including the mili
tary genius which won that decisive
victory 200 years ago.
His colony served as a buffer state
between the Carolinas, the southern
most English colonies, and the Span
ish settlement at St. Augustine in
Florida. Among the Georgia colo
nists was a party of Scottish High
landers who settled on St. Simon’s
island in 1735, established the town
of Frederica and built a fort which
was the British outpost nearest New
Spain. Its strategic value was ap
parent to General Oglethorpe, whose
career as a soldier had begun at
the age of 18 when he served under
Prince Eugene against the Turks.
At 19, upon the recommendation of
the great Marlborough, he had been
GEN. JAMES OGLETHORPE
appointed aide-de-camp to the prince
and had served brilliantly during
the siege and capture of Belgrade.
Then he gave up his military ca
reer to become a member of parlia
ment and to begin his philanthropic
labors which led to the founding of
the colony of Georgia in 1733.
However, he had learned his mili
tary lessons well and when England
and Spain went to war in 1739, he
immediately led an expedition
against Florida. He succeeded in
capturing several Spanish outposts
but failed to take St. Augustine.
The Spaniards retaliated by attack
ing St. Simon’s island but under
Oglethorpe’s leadership the tough
Highlanders beat oil the attack.
The next year Oglethorpe again
descended upon Florida and drove
the Spaniards within the defenses of
St. Augustine, but did not have a
force strong enough to capture the
city. There was a lull in hostilities
for the next two years. Then Ogle
thorpe attacked St. Augustine again
but after a brief siege withdrew in
such a manner as to trick the Span
iards into counterattacking.
They assembled an armada of 50
ships and set out for another assault
on the English stronghold on St.
Simon’s island. Landing there, they
were confronted by Oglethorpe’s lit
tle army which fought a delaying
action until the thistles which cov
ered the island were at their prickli
est stage, thus slowing down the
barefoot Spanish soldiers who out
numbered the English seven to one.
Oglethorpe maneuvered the enemy
into fighting on ground of his own
choosing, allowing them to push for
ward toward the fort along the edge
of a marsh over a trail that was
so narrow that the Spaniards had
to advance in single file.
Then Oglethorpe launched his at
tack and cut the attackers to pieces.
When the Spanish leader brought up
reinforcements to cover his retreat,
Oglethorpe ambushed these forces
and the Spanish invasion ended in a
complete rout.
This campaign proved that Ogle
thorpe was a great soldier. But he
was also, according to one historian,
"a great administrator, a great phi
lanthropist, who instituted and su
pervised a colony for poor debtors,
taking no salary, profits, perqui
sites or land; a great reformer; a
great artist and a great Christian
| gentleman. As administrator, he
i founded the 13th state and ruled
with justice and humanity the di
verse elements which composed it;
English debtors, Austrian religious
refugees, Scottish Highlanders, In
dians and Negroes.
Wide Wale Corduroy Is Given
New Importance by Designers
By CHERIE NICHOLAS
WATCH corduroys as they take
the lead in the fashion parade
this fall. As front page fabric news
corduroy is ‘‘it” this season and no
mistake. Ask any college-bound
girl. She knows!
Not only are campus enthusiasts
"rushing” corduroy for all it is
worth, but though the season is yet
young this material is proving so
much of an out-and-out choice the
fabric sections are booking orders
one fast following after another.
To be sure, the fact that corduroy
is free from priority rulings is in
itself a sufficient reason why en
thusiasm for it is running high.
However, seeing the stunning coats
and suits designers are turning out
made of corduroy puts an irresist
ible desire in one to acquire a whole
wardrobe of corduroys. The amaz
ing adaptability of corduroy to all
phases of fashion is enough to in
spire one to do just that. Certainly
corduroy serves as an all-purpose
fabric with amazing versatility. You
can find in the shops everything
from slacks to the smartest sort
of town suits and stunning topcoats
to satisfy the most exacting and dis
criminating taste.
Wide wale corduroy is the impor
tant news in stylish corduroys this
season. The new wide wales are
making such a dramatic and spec
tacular appearance in all costume
collections you can find everything
from knee-length shorts outfits to
daytime boxy jackets and coats
that are so craftily styled they real
ly out-style everything in corduroy
that has gone before.
A tailored suit of wide wale cor
duroy of the hollow-cut velveteen
type as pictured to the right in the
above illustration is a prize posses
■■ mm » m aw:■: —n* i iitww—wwwww
sion to include in a 1942 collegian’*
wardrobe. It’a the *uit of a hundred
uses, dressy enough to wear to facul
ty leas, sturdy enough to wear to
class, of a weight that is comfort
able for spring (looking ahead) and
Just right for fall wear. For
town wear add a casual hand
crocheted chenille hat (note its tow
ering tall crown) and handsewn
double-woven cotton gloves.
Off to town for a big week-end the
young lady shown centered in the
above illustration chooses to wear
a hollow-cut velveteen coat, for it’s
going to look ever so smart when she
goes tea dancing or to the matinee
with her soldier. This corduroy vel
veteen is ndt only glamorous, but,
being cotton and sturdy, it has plen
ty of common sense back of it.
The fingertip coat pictured to the
left will prove a friend indeed come
rain or storm. Here is an outfit
that shows judgment, common sense
and high fashion instinct combined.
This two-piece which mounts a re
versible corduroy-lined coat over a
corduroy skirt is typical of what
college girls will be wearing this
fall.
They will also be lounging infor
mally or playing hard in corduroy
slacks and in culottes made of cor
duroy. The favorite color in cordu
roy is a rich beige. College girls
also like coats made of bright red
corduroy, and forest green corduroy
lined with quilted red cotton is an
other college favorite.
Released by Western Newspaper Union.
Gabardine Jumper
Keeping close watch on the clothes
preferences of women as they lead
a life packed to the brim with ac
tivity, designers have laid much
stress on practical clothes. The
present revival of the jumper dress
as a smart and much-needed fash
ion is recognized in the practical
outfit pictured above—a model dis
played at the Merchandise Mart of
Chicago at an advance showing of
fall styles. It is made of red gabar
dine, will wash and is altogether
practical. Its gay color classes it
as right up to the minute.
Lace Blouse
Dressy afternoon styles place em
phasis on the velvet suit worn with
a blouse fashioned of lace. This is
a fashion that is destined to become
of outstanding importance as the
social season gets into swing.
Lace Adds a Touch
Of Feminine Chai m
For memorable evenings what
better choice than lace—that lovely
non-priority charmer that makes
women appear at their loveliest.
Lace is being partnered with fabric
and other media in effective ways.
Especially new is the dress that has
a full lace skirt topped with a fit
ted long-torso bodice of black vel
vet. It is the sort of gown you will
want to wear for your man in serv
ice who wants you to look pretty
and feminine.
The emphasis placed on dressy
formal afternoon suits is in a call
for lovely blouses of feminine type
made of dainty lace. Three richly
jeweled buttons add to the gracious
attractiveness of a brocaded cot
ton lace charmer that is warrant
ed to add distinction to winter suits.
The lace is an exclusive heavily
corded pattern, and with lace on
the non-priority list one can feel
well dressed and patriotic at the
same time.
Gloves, Hat, Shoes and
Bag All Dyed in One Vat
Hats, gloves, bag, shoes in fine doe
skin dyed in one vat have been made
possible through the teamwork of
those who are working together to
achieve a new color formula for
smart accessories.
Your gown is smart black and
your accessories are carried out in
a vivid one-color technique. There
is a new red that is wonderfully ef
fective for monotone accessory en
sembles. Green is a favorite, also,
and the new fuchsia shades are stun
ning with black.
Black Velvet
The black dress sleeved in black
velvet with a huge bow of black
velvet at the waistline of the wrap
around skirt is very distinguished.
Coats of the dressy type are also
trimmed with black velvet.
{Conservation Farming
Most Effective Way
Nation's Farmers Learned
Lesson During Last War
This time it’s going to be differ
ent!
American farmers learned a bitter
lesson from the last World war. In
today's war they are answering the
demand for more food by careful
Conservation farming in the most
effective way to boost output now
and make even greater production
possible tomorrow.
planning to avoid the ruinous ex
ploitation of soil resources which
cost so much last time.
“Plow to the Fence for National
Defense” was the cry during the
World war. Forty million acres of
grass never before broken were up
rooted by the plow. Much of that
land should never have been permit
ted to be sown to anything but grass.
Conservation practices were
forgotten in the seal for “more
of everything.”
This time farmers have a national
wartime farm program developed
by farmers and co-ordinated through
the United States department of ag
riculture adjustment and conserva
tion agencies. It is a plan for get
ting more of the right things and
it stresses conservation farming.
Experience has shown conserva
tion farming is the most effective
way to boost output now and make
even greater production possible to
morrow.
Farming on the contour, for
Instance, has increased corn
production twofold on farms in
test areas. Also, It has required
7 per cent less time and 10 per
cent less fuel in preparing land
and seeding small grains than
non-contoured farming.
It is estimated that if contouring
were extended to one-third of the
corn acreage in the corn belt, pro
duction would be increased 100 mil
lion bushels, an average increase of
six bushels per acre.
In West Virginia, a 30 per cent
increase per acre in tomato
yields was achieved through use
of strip cropping.
By following good range manage
ment, a West Texas rancher in
creased the weight of his calves by
75 pounds at selling time.
This year a minimum of 20 per
cent of the crop land of a farmer
A. C. A. A. Photo.
C. D. Blubaugh, Danville, Ohio,
weighing the harvest from a strip
cropped field. He is one of the some
three million farmers in 693 soil
conservation districts.
participating in the AAA program
will be devoted to soil-conserving
crops and land uses.
Conservation is already pay
ing war dividends. Without the
advances of recent years, Amer
ica’s farms would not have a
chance of reaching 1942 produc
tion goals, not to mention the
strain of producing even more
in 1943.
Thus farmers recognize conserva
tion as the key to getting the most
of the right products now and con
tinuing to get them as they are
needed without permanent injury to
our land resources. That is the les
son they learned from last time.
Agricultural Notes
Domestic consumer demand for
farm products will' continue to rise
during the next’ few months.
• • •
Ground which has been planted
continuously to corn loses almost
half of the normal rain fall.
• * *
Over 215,000 tons of food are rep
resented by the game animals, game
birds, and game fish taken by sports
men in one year.