By ARTHUR STRINGER WN.U. SERVICE.
THE STORY SO FAR: Although be
inspects him of being up to something,
Alan Slade agrees to fly a "scientist’’
named Frayne and his assistant, Kar
neU, to the Anawotto river in search of
the trumpeter swan. Frayne pays them
enough to enable Cruger, Slade's partner
In Norland Airways, to buy a Lockheed
plane. But while Slade is away the
plane is stolen. When he starts out to
And It, Slade Is aided by an eskimo
named Lmanak and by two old pros
pectors, Zeke and Minty. He returns to
Frayne’s camp, where he learns that
Frayne has the Lockheed and that an
outcast pilot named Slim Tumstead is
flying something out of the country for
him. But when Slade attempts to ex
amine the plane’s cargo he Is knocked
unconscious by Karnell. Tumstead saves
him but abandons him later on a de
serted island. Lmanak, the eskimo, suc
ceeds in getting a sample of Frayne’s
cargo, which turns out to be pitchblende,
a valuable source of power. Now Zeke
and Minty, who found Slade’s plane and
are guarding it, have been Joined by
the "flying Padre" and his daughter,
Lynn. Knowing that Slade would not
have left his plane unguarded, they real
ise that something has happened to him.
Lynn has gone off alone In her father's
plane to find him.
Now continue with the story.
CHAPTER XVII
A lowering sun and a quick glance
At her gas gauge told Lynn that
her cruising had carried her far
ther afield than she had first in
tended. Tired and dispirited, she
set her ship down on a many-armed
lake that met a series of lime
stone ridges on one side and merged
Into scattered islets and muskeg on
the other. And after eating and not
ing the thinning light about her she
decided that enough flying had been
done for one day.
So she slept that night m the plane
cabin, as she had done often enough
before. Her sleep, for all her weari
ness, was both broken and troubled.
When she awakened, in the gray
light of morning, it was oddly like
awakening to a call. She sat up
and looked about, wondering as to
the source of that ghostly summons.
She smiled when she heard it re
peated. For what had come to her
over the lake water draped with its
morning mists was the echoing call
of a trumpeter swan.
Lynn quietly opened the cabin
hatch and studied the lake’s surface.
A moment later her eyes coasted
the nearer shoreline and through
the scrub spruce she saw a bear
crawl down to the water’s edge and
drink.
She thought, at first, that it was
wounded, its movements were so
slow and uncertain. Then the bear,
with an effort, stood up on its hind
legs. And the staring girl saw it
was not a bear, but a man.
Lynn clambered down from the
plane and hurried ashore. She
coursed over gravel beds and gul
lies and pushed her way through a
tangle of briars, her breath coming
in shorter and shorter gasps as she
ran. She did not call out. But
gladness and anxiety swept through
her in interlocking waves as she
hurried on. For even before she
confronted that squatting figure she
knew it was Slade.
She dropped to her knees, in front
of him.
“Alan,’’ she cried.
His gaze remained empty and un
responsive.
"It’s not a dream, Alan,” she
panted as she crowded closer to
him and brushed back the tangle of
hair from his face. She could see
a little of the vacancy go out of his
eyes.
"Lynn?” he mumbled, still in
credulous.
“Yes, It’s Lynn,” she told
him, encircling his ragged body
with her arms. “I’ve found
you.”
Lynn noticed, for the nrst time,
the gauntness of his tremulous body.
She supported him as he sank to
the ground, where he sat staring at
his worn and battered flyer’s boots.
“I lost my knife,” he muttered.
"That doesn’t count now,” she
told him. “There’s food and every
thing we need in the plane. But
I’m wondering if you can walk that
far.”
He laughed again, less harshly.
“I guess I could still walk a hun
dred miles for a meal,” he said as
he once more got to his feet. “It's
what I’ve been doing . . . walking
. . . walking!”
She eased him to the ground,
along a slope of moss-covered rock,
when she reached the lake arm
where the plane was resting. Then
she hurriedly made a Are and
brought canned milk and coffee
from her cabin stores.
He remained as passive as a child
in a hospital ward while she tugged
and turned and rid him of his tat
tered clothes. She bathed his bruised
body, noting the cuts and scratches,
which she later anointed with witch
hazel. Then she dressed him in
the Padre’s denim shirt, which was
too small for him, and in the Padre’s
denim overalls, which were too wide
in the waist.
“And now,” she said, “we’ve got
to get you looking less like a bear.”
He smiled a little as she lathered
his face and bent over him with her
razor.
“How'd you And me?” he asked
as the razor blade scraped clean his
hollowed cheek.
“The swans wakened me,” she
said as she scraped. "I might have
vi mu —it—
"Yes, It’s Lynn,” she told him. *‘I’ve found you.”
slept on, if it hadn’t been for them,
and not seen you.”
He blinked down at the plane
wings in the lake cove, surrounded
by its sheltering ridges.
“What is it?” asked Lynn.
“I’ve got to go back,” cried Slade,
struggling to his feet.
“Back where?” asked Lynn, star
tled by the look of hate that dark
ened his face.
“To where they’re hiding with that
Lockheed. I’ve got to find Turn
stead and Frayne.” His voice shook
with passion. “I’ve an account to
settle with them.”
He told her, briefly, of his cap
ture and abduction, of his escape
from the island, of his loss of
strength as he tried to fight his way
down to the coast.
“And if you hadn’t come,” he
concluded, “I’d have gone out the
way they wanted me to.”
“Then you mustn’t go back,” she
maintained. “You’ve faced danger
enough. We know what those men
are now. They'll stop at nothing.
And I don’t want you killed.”
He shook off her hand and faced
her.
“Who knows what those men
are?” he demanded.
She told him of Umanak’s discov
ery and of the Flying Padre’s flight
that brought him to the two embat
tled old sourdoughs from the Kasa
kana.
Slade’s eyes narrowed as he lis
tened.
“Then my hunch wasn’t wrong,”
he cried out as his face darkened
with a newer hostility. He looked
at the spruce ridges that stretched
away to the south. Then he looked
at the faded blue wings of the plane.
“Let’s get going,” he announced
with a brusqueness that brought her
gaze about to his face.
“Not yet,” she said, realizing how
remote from her he stood in his
man’s world of conflict.
“What is it?” he questioned, puz
zled by the intentness with which
she continued to study him.
“If you go back there,” she told
him, “it will be like going into bat
tle. It will—”
But he cut her short.
“It’ll be battle all right,” was the
bark that came from his dry lips.
“We can’t tell what will happen,”
she went on. “We can’t be sure of
anything. But before we go I want to
be sure of one thing."
“Of what?” he asked, his eyes on
the plane. ,
But after another look at his gaunt
face, she knew there was no room
for life’s subtler hungers in that
tired and broken body of his. And
pride, coming to her rescue, kept
her from answering his question.
“Let’s go,” was all she said as
she stooped to gather up her scat
tered possessions.
Slade, at the controls, arrowed
southward with his throttle wide
open, Lynn, from time to time, was
conscious of the grimness of his
face. Yet she smiled as she realized
that a part of his grimness was
due to the assiduousness with which
he was chewing dried beef as he
flew. He had been hungry, she re
membered, for a long time.
Then he stopped chewing and
scrutinized the country under his
floats. The emptier rock ridges had
given way to more closely watered
terrain, to a region of lakes and
streams interspersed with dolorous
stretches of muskeg and marshland.
"We must be getting there," he
called over his shoulder as a still
larger lake floated under them and
was left behind.
"There should be smoke," Lynn
told him. "Father said a fire would
be kept going."
"Where?” asked Slade.
"Where you left your ship," she
explained, already searching the
blue-misted ridges before her.
But Slade was the first to catch
sight of the far-off plume of signal
smoke. He could see the gray drift
above the furred darkness of the
spruce slopes. His jaw hardened as
he changed his course a point or two
and droned down on the many
armed lake that more and more took
on an aspect of familiarity. His
memories of that district clearly
were not palatable ones.
"Where’s my plane?” he demand
ed as they dropped lower.
"It should be here,” said Lynn,
busy searching the shoreline.
But it was not there. All Slade
could see, after drifting into the
lake arm between the ridges, was a
ragged old figure with a rifle, watch
ing them as they came. Behind
him burned a huge fire of spruce
boles, sending a drift of smoke up
the air.
"It’s Minty,” cried Slade as their
pontoons grounded on a gravel bar.
Lynn was the first to clamber down
and hurry ashore.
“Where’s Father?" she questioned.
But the ragged old sentinel with
the rifle was watching the long
legged figure with the mooring gear
in its hand.
“So they found you, Lindy,” he
exulted. "And you’re back in the
nick o’ time, son. For there’s hell
let loose in these hills.”
“Where’s Father?” persisted
Lynn.
Minty, finally conscious of her
questioning, inspected her with a
reproving eye.
“He’s out scoutin’ for you, lady.
And he sure lost sleep wonderin’
what’d happened to you. Where’d
you find this puddle-jumper?”
“That can wait,” said Slade.
“What I want is that swan-hunter.”
Minty spat and squared his shoul
ders.
“Then you’ve sure come to the
right quarters, son,” he asserted.
“For he’s barricaded over at that
lake end o’ his and he’s slingin’
lead at anything that comes within
half a mile o’ his hide-out.”
“And that flyer of his, Tumstead?”
questioned Slade.
“I ain't seen no flyer,” answered
Minty. "And I ain’t seen no plane
come and go. What he's tryin’ to
do. I’d say, is hold us ofT until a
plane can swing in and pick him
up.”
Slade turned to his ragged old
friend.
“Let me have that rifle,” he said.
But Minty promptly backed away.
"Not on your life,” he retorted. "I
got use for this old girl.”
He pointed toward the widen
ing vista of muskeg country that
stretched away into the north.
“Zeke’s out there stalkin’ that
swan-hunter’s side-kick. And I’m
goin' to help him run down that
human gorilla."
“You mean Karnell?” cried Slade.
"That's jus' who I mean, Lindy.
The slinkin’ louse tried to outflank
us in the night. But Zeke’s got him
cut off from his camp-mate out
there, dodgin’ lead like a coyote.
And I’m goin' out to back up my
bunkie.”
Even as he spoke the sound of a
repeated rifle shot, thinned by dis
lance, came 10 mem.
“I’ll go with you,” announced
Slade
Lynn could see his gaunt face
once more darken with hate. Then
he turned to her.
"Stay here with the plane,” he
told her. He pointed to the Are.
"And you’d better keep smoke show
ing until the Padre gets back."
She was able to forgive the per
emptory note in his voice as she
moved closer to him. He stopped,
for a moment, to study her face.
But he failed to fathom the source
of her anxiety.
“You'll be safe in the plane,” he
told her. "If you’re in doubt, or
there's any threat of danger, you
can take off."
"I wasn’t thinking about myself."
she said with reproving quietness.
“Then what’s worrying you?” he
asked matter-of-factly.
She caught at his sleeve.
“I don’t want you to go, Alan.”
His eyes remained preoccupied as
he freed himself.
"Don’t worry about me,” he said.
‘T’ve got to go.”
"But what good will it do?”
"I don’t know yet,” he retorted.
"But Karnell tried to kill me. And
I’m going to do what I can to round
him up.”
She knew enough of frontier life
to realize there were times when
women figured small in men’s
scheme of things. And this was
another occasion, she remembered,
when there was no room for tender
ness in life.
"All right," she said, well-schooled
in quick decisions from others. "I’ll
be here with the plane. When Fa
ther gets back I’ll tell him which
way you went.”
She wanted to say more, bui shp
knew it was useless.
(TO BE COM I\t I I).
Financier of Victory
TODAY our newspapers are filled
with patriotic appeals—through
news stories, editorials, cartoons
and display advertisements—urging
us to "Buy Bonds! Buy War Bonds!
Buy Victory Bonds!” All of which is
nothing new. Financing a war by
direct appeal to the individual citi*
zen goes back even farther than
1917-18.
Back in the days of the Civil war,
newspapers carried such items as
these:
A soldier In the Army of the Potomsc
sends to the subscription agent his sur
plus earnings with the remark, "If I fight
hard enough, my bonds will be good."
Another soldier said, “I am willing to
trust Uncle Sam: if he is not good, no
body else is.”
Besides such “readers” as the
above, there were also display ads
in the newspapers urging the public
to buy bonds. The same message
was carried to them in booklets,
handbills and posters. And all of
this was due mainly to the efforts
of a patriotic banker, Jay Cooke.
Cooke began work a few hours
after he read about the disaster
which had befallen General Mac
Dowell’s army at Manassas in July,
1861. He sat down, scribbled a
few lines on a piece of paper and
set out to visit some of his fellow
bankers in Philadelphia. Within two
hours he had collected more than
$2,000,000 to be advanced to the fed
eral government in the form of a
short term loan.
Although most people in the North,
when the war began, thought it
would be a short one, they were soon
disillusioned. They soon realized,
too, that it would be a costly one.
During its first summer, expendi
tures rose to $1,000,000 a day. By
the end of the year they had mount
ed to a million and a half a day.
Upon Salmon P. Chase, secretary
of the treasury, fell the burden of
providing the money.
Congress authorized the treasury
to issue three-year notes, bearing
7.3 per cent interest. Accompanied
by Cooke, Chase went to New York
to raise money upon the security of
these notes. But the bankers there
were timid about providing the mon
ey until Chase threatened to flood
! the country with unsecured paper.
; Then they agreed to enter a syndi
| cate with bankers in Boston and
Philadelphia to advance $50,000,000
to the treasury on the secretary’s
notes if he would appeal to the pub
lic to subscribe to them.
Cooke was named as one of a
corps of 148 agents appointed to han
dle the issue of “seven-thirties” (so
called because they paid $7.30 in
terest yearly on $100). The Phila
delphia banker went at it on a big
scale. He bought a large amount of
advertising space in the newspapers
and kept the editors liberally sup
| plied with "promotional copy.” The
treasury had allowed him $150 for
advertising purposes but he spent
many times that amount and paid
! for it out of his own pocket. When
the selling campaign ended it was
found that he had sold more than
I one-fifth of the entire bond issue.
The next year the treasury found
: that it was becoming increasingly
j difficult to finance the war. Mili
tary reverses suffered by the Union
armies had shaken the public’s faith
in the government. Again Cooke
was called in. He was placed in
charge of a $513,000,000 issue of
"five-twenties” (bonds bearing 6 per
cent interest and payable after five
and in not more than 20 years). It
J was then that Cooke’s genius for
! publicizing the bond selling cam
; paign proved itself even more than
before.
This campaign was a success, as
were his later campaigns—a “ten
forty” loan of $200,000,000 and a
“seven-thirty” loan of $830,000,000.
All in all, Cooke was responsible for
raising more than $2,000,000,000 to
finance the Union victory. As one
historian has well said "these were
the most remarkable feats of finan
ciering known to history.”
Methods of selling bonds which
may be considered new and original
today were used by Cooke in his
operations. He devised a “pay roll
deduction” plan and more than 1,000
employees of a Philadelphia railroad
company subscribed to the bond is
sue under this plan. Cooke also per
suaded many companies which had
government contracts to accept
bonds in part payment for their serv
ices and supplies. He enlisted the
aid of stage stars to help publicize
the bonds and encouraged newspa
pers to carry “box scores” showing
the progress of the campaigns.
Lace Is Feminine, Practical
And, of Course, ‘Non-Priority’
Bv CHERIE NICHOLAS
LACE, the indispensable item in
every woman’s wardrobe, is
prominent in the news for winter.
The flattery, the prettiness, the al
lure of lace has been a theme
throughout the centuries for paint
ers and poets and fashion <*reators,
but this year lace takes on greater
importance than ever in that it is
non-priority. It’s patriotic to wear
lace.
Designers are making the most
of the materials still available for
civilian use and emphasizing the im
portance of using fabrics not needed
for the armed forces. So, in addi
tion to its magic and fascination,
the wearing of lace becomes a pa
triotic gesture.
Lace has a way of making women
look prettily feminine, as they
should look to please soldiers on
furlough. One of the fashion suc
cesses created to meet the wartime
demand for a not-too-formal dress
is the street length dance frock.
Styled of lace, with special atten
tion focused on flattering necklines,
these dresses are styled according
to a formula that is working like
a charm (especially if the lace is
filmy black).
The use of lace over color is again
in fashion, black Chantilly over pink
being favored. Black with chalk
white is also especially chic in such
combinations as a white lace skirt
with a black velvet or jersey blouse
top. Jewel colored laces, too, have
a prominent place in the mode. The
colors that lead stress the fuchsia
purples and reds, and also a lumi
nous blue that is gorgeous at night.
The dress to the left in the above
illustration is fashioned of a beauti
ful scroll-patterned plum colored
lace. It has just the right lines to
achieve a suave, slim silhouette. The
open throat V-neckline and the gath
ered sleeves contribute to the flat
tery of this gown. This is the type
of frock that is regarded as a neces
sary luxury in the wardrobe of an
active woman.
With velvet and velveteen suits
holding the spotlight as they so defi
nitely do this season, the lace blouse
holds forth in the fashion picture in
all its charm and seductive loveli
ness. Certain it is that there is no
surer way of dressing up a suit
than to glorify it with a beguiling
lace blouse. The dainty blouses in
set in the ovals above are furlough
week-enders that will team perfect
ly with the new velvet suit, which
will probably be black or a rich
autumn color. Val edging trims the
becoming neckline and mirror but
tons accent the center of the scal
loped front of the model pictured in
the top oval. This attractive blouse
comes either in chalk white lace or
in ecru.
Sugar-white lace sweetens the oth
er blouse. Here you see the fa
vorite jacket-type blouse that car
ries a look of distinction all its own
The open neckline and three-quar
ter sleeves are smart details. Lace
is frilled around the neckline, the
sleeves and the edge of the blouse.
Mirror buttons twinkle down the
front.
It’s news, too, that the new lace
blouses are introducing exciting ad
ventures in color. The column-slim
dress with that ’’couturier" look of
expert design and workmanship
shown centered in the group tops a
coffee-colored crepe skirt of fluid
grace with a blouse done in cocoa
lace over pale blue. This new color
alliance is dramatic and very lovely.
Released by Western Newspaper Union.
Clever Beret
Smart? Well, smart is a mild word
to use in describing this gem of a
beret that tells you at the very first
glimpse that it is a winner. It is a
black felt beret, and if there is a
type of hat more popular with the
young set than a jaunty beret, it is
yet to be discovered. The double
accordion crown is a new note. The
unique and amusing bright yarn
treatment is right in tune with toe
present trend. And the wide use of
yarn crochet and knit and ingenious
treatments that include yarn fringe,
ball dangles and hair-braid novel
effects, has given to millinery a new
interest.
Long Gloves
Long gloves “up to here” are back
again to be worn with short afternoon
gowns and cocktail dresses. Brace
lets are worn over the gloves with
earrings and clips to match.
Jet Beads, Rhinestones
Add New Glitter Accents
Glitter is apt to occur anywhere
in the mode this season, on daytime
wools and jerseys, on sweaters and
even on topcoat or cape yokes
and sleeves. About all that can be
said about glitter has been said,
and the supply of adjectives to de
scribe the fascinating sparkling fash
ions that hold the center of the stage
have about given out.
However, there are new highlights
that deserve mention. Rhinestone
frog fastenings glitter down the
front of a brack velvet dinner gown.
Another idea is Chantilly black lace
spangled with jet beads posed over
pink to foim a plastron covering the
front bodice of a crepe afternoon
dress.
Fray-Proof Seams Make
Fagot ted Slip a 'Find'
It’s a good idea, the fray-proof
slip now available in stores through
out the country. It has a rayon
fagotting that joins the seams. Cut
to fit just so under the arm they are
pe feet for the new slim dresses.
The flat, neat fray-proo' seams are
as decorative as handwork, yet are
many times stronger than the old
fashioned kind. The fagotting gives
without any danger of breaking and
there is no ravel, not a single raw
edge. Absolutely fray-proof, it
has been called the "slip with no
wrong side" because it is finished
off so beautifully.
Colorful Belts
This season novel belts are play
ing a very important role in adding
variety and color to the simple
frock. Colorful peasant types are
shown in the new collections. Most
attractive is a felt belt and bretelle
arrangement that has two square
pockets attached which are gaily
decorated with an applique motif of
richly colorful grapes and felt leaf
| cutouts.
Lovely Cuddle Toys
To Make of Scraps
luimmmmmmm
VOX’LL like these cuddle toys
* because they’re easy to sew
snd made of scraps, too. Baby
will love them because they’re
small and soft.
• • •
Pattern 7121 contain! transfer pattern
»f toyi; Instructions for making; materi
als needed; illustration of stitches. Send
your order to:
Sewing Circle Needlecraft Dept.
82 Eighth Ave. New York
Enclose 15 cents (plus one cent to
cover cost of mailing) for Pattern
No.
Name ..
Address .
Relief At Last
For YourCough
Creomulslon relieves promptly be
cause it goes right to the seat of the
trouble to help loosen and expel
germ laden phlegm, and aid nature
to soothe and heal raw, tender, In
flamed bronchial mucous mem
branes. Tell your druggist to sell you
a bottle of Creomulslon with the un
derstanding you must like the way It
quickly allays the cough or you are
to have your money back.
CREOMULSION
for Coughs, Chest Colds, Bronchitis
★ ★ ★ ★
UNITED STATES
BONDS
AND '
STAMPS
*l|ir
★ ★ ★ ★
Yoa»,rcKi',?K»'
may be quickly relieved with soothing,
medicated, time-tested Rcsinol. Try Itl
RESINOL,
Worthy Name
A good name is rather to be
chosen than great riches, and lov
ing favor rather than silver and
gold.—Prov. 22:1.
-Scolds
quickfy u-ic
LIQUID
TABLETS
SALVE
NOSE DROPS
COUCH DROPS
—
Exaggeration
What you exaggerate you weak
en.—La Harpe.
Don’t Neglect Them!
Nature designed the kidneys to do •
marvelous job. Their task is to keep the
flowing blood stream tree of an excess of
toxic impurities. The act of living—lift
4 itself—is constantly producing waste
matter the kidneys must remove from
' the blood if good heath is to endure.
When the kidneys fail to function as
Nature intended, there is retention of
waste that may cause body-wide dis
tress. One may suffer nagging backache,
persistent headache, attacks of dizziness,
getting up nights, swelling, puflinesa
under the eyes—feel tired, nervous, all
worn out.
Frequent, scanty or burning passages
are sometimes further evidence of kid
ney or bladder disturbance.
The recognized and proper treatment
is a diuretic medicine to help the kidneys
get rid of excess poisonous body waste.
Use Doan's Pills. They have had more .
than forty years of public approval. Are
endorsed the country over. Insist on
Doan's. Sold at all drug stores.
Good Merchandise
Can Be CONSISTENTLY Advertised
• BUY ADVERTISED GOODS •
