.. . Come Ye Thankful People, Come
(See Recipes Below)
Thanksgiving!
Traditional Thanksgiving turkey
may this year give way to roast
chicken, but tne
feast can have all
the spirit of those
you have had in
former years.
| Though your
meal may be less
elaborate, every
food can be done
is a turn, the frills may be just as
Interesting, and your thanks can rise
to a new height
Let the charm of your dinner lie
In its simplicity. Get the most out
of your food and prepare it to deli
ciousness. The same vegetables
that you had with turkey can go
with chicken—if turnip puffs or corn
pudding or squash or sweet potato
and apples are a tradition in your
family.
Prepare your chicken with the
■ame care you would give turkey
and it will look as nice and taste
Just wonderful. It’s easy enough to
truss chicken properly so that it
will look nice. Here's one way of
doing it:
Trussing Chicken.
Insert trussing needle through
body of chicken below knee Joint and
pull cord through; continue cord
through wings. Tie tightly to hold
wings close to body. Stuff neck
opening of chicken with stuffing and
tuck neck skin under cord. Use an
other piece of cord, and insert nee
dle through legs’ rear joint. Stuff
body cavity and truss opening with
truss pins or cord. Draw cord from
legs around tail piece and tie legs
down close to body.
The stuffing is just as important
as the chicken itself. Have it not
too soggy, not too dry, and well sea
soned:
'Celery Stuffing.
1 cup finely chopped celery
1 tablespoon minced onion
1 tablespoon minced parsley
1 tablespoon butter or fat
H teaspoon marjoram
H teaspoon celery seed
Salt and pepper
Water ar stock
IK cups bread crumbs
Cook celery onion and parsley in
fat for a few minutes. Add other
Ingredients with enough liquid to
hold together and make dressing
slightly moist.
'Roast Chicken.
4 ts 5 pound roasting chicken
Salt (k t* V< teaspoon per pound)
Stuffing
Melted fat
Singe chicken, clean, wash and
dry. Rub inside with salt. Stuff
lightly with celery stuffing and truss.
Rub surface with unsalted fat. Place
an rack in an uncovered roaster,
breast up. Cover with layer of fat
from body of chicken, then with a
clean cloth dipped into melted, un
salted fat. Roast, uncovered, in a
slow oven (300 degrees) until ten
der, basting occasionally with drip
pings. Season with additional salt
when half done.
Remove cloth near end of roasting
period end allow to brown. A
chicken weighing 4 to 5 pounds re
quires 34 to 35 minutes per pound to
roast A smaller chicken 40 to 45
minutes per pound.
Cranberry Sauce has a place with
all fowl, and especially in the
Lynn Says:
Conserving Fuel: You'll not
only be saving on your own fuel
bills but also co-operating with
government requests if you save
on cooking heat Here's how:
When using oven, plan to cook
several items in it at once. Meat
and vegetables, and even hot
bread and dessert can all be
cooked in oven. It's poor econo
my to use both oven and surface
heat to get a dinner together.
Food should be ready for oven
at the same time oven is correct
temperature. Do not keep open
ing oven door to see “how things
are coming along."
--ll
Lynn Chambers’ Point-Saving
Menu
Thanksgiving Dinner
Chilled Cranberry and Orange
Juice
Wafers
•Roast Chicken
•Celery Stuffing Gravy
•Baked Sweet Potatoes
and Apples
Squash Puff Broccoli
•Hot Rolls
Pumpkin Pie
Relishes: 'Cranberry Sauce,
Olives, Celery
•Recipes Given.
Thanksgiving dinner:
•Cranberry Sauce.
3 cups cranberries
Hi cups sugar
1 cup hot water
Put berries, sugar and water into
a saucepan and let stand for 5 min
utes. Then cook 5 minutes. Re
move from range and let stand 5
minutes, then cook for another 5
minutes. Cool and serve with roast
fowl.
Now, for the vegetables. You will
probably have several kinds in mind
such as:
•Baked Sweet Potatoes and Apples.
(Serves 4)
2 large tart apples
2 large cold cooked sweet potatoes
H teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons margarine
54 cup corn or maple syrup
Core, pare and cut apples in
slices. Saute each slice in marga
rine until nearly
soft, browning the
pieces thorough
ly. Cut potatoes
into rather thick
slices, sprinkle
with salt and
place a slice of
iried apple on the side of each po
tato. Arrange in a shallow baking
dish, pour syrup over all, dot with
butter. Bake Vt hour in a moderate
oven until potato absorbs syrup.
•Two-Hour Rolls.
(Makes 12 to 16 rolls)
1 yeast cake
H cup lukewarm water
3 cups all-purpose flour, sifted
1 level tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
2 heaping tablespoons lard
It cup milk
Dissolve yeast cake in lukewarm
water. Mix dry ingredients, work
mg in lard as tor
pie crust. Add
milk and yeast
mixture to make
dough. Turn onto
a floured board
and knead well.
Roll and cut into
any shape. Let
rise 2 hours. Bake Q
20 minutes in a
hot oven (425 degrees).
Your choice for dessert may be
a pumpkin pie, or perhaps an old
fashioned steamed pudding with
lemon sauce;
Steamed Pudding.
(Serves 6)
1 cup bread crumbs
H cup sour milk
M cup shortening
H cup sugar
Vs teaspoon vanilla
1 egg
H cup sifted flour
H teaspoon baking soda
teaspoon nutmeg
H teaspoon cinnamon
H cup raisins
K cup chopped nuts
Soften bread crumbs in sour milk.
Cream shortening and sugar until
fluffy. Add vanilla and blend. Beat
egg and combine with milk and
crumbs, then add to first mixture.
Sift dry ingredients and spices, add
raisins and nuts and combine with
first mixture.. Steam for 1 hour in
a greased mold.
If you uant sugar saving suggestions,
write to l.ynn Chambers, W estern News
paper Union, 210 South Desplaines
Street, Chicago, Illinois. Don't forget
to enclose a stamped, self-addressed
envelope for your reply.
Released by Western Newspaper Union.
IW*CLIFFORD KNIGHT ..TvYc. I
Elsa Chatfield, Hollywood artist, is cot
off from the will of her Aunt Kitty, who
died from an overdose of morphine. Bar
ry Madison, an amateur detective, and
Hunt Rogers, professional sleuth, go to
Mazallan, Mexico, on a cruise with Mar
garet and Dwight Nichols. On arriving
they find that Elsa and her party have
preceded them by plane. Sam Chatfield,
Elsa’s father, who Is a rancher, puts on
a big fiesta for the ranch workers. While
the fiesta Is In progress he asks Rogers
to conduct an Investigation among his
gnests concerning the death of his sister.
Everyone present seems to have a mo
tive. After the cross questioning the
guests rrpatr to the courtyard to watch
the dancing.
CHAPTER IX
Elsa suddenly waa vibrant with
excitement She directed my at
tention to the platform. "Look, Bar
ry; listen!” she exclaimed.
Two youthful figures were mount
ing the stage, followed by a third, a
larger more mature figure. The
first two were our pair of wandering
musicians, Pancho and Felipe, with
battered guitar and ukulele. The
third man carried a small harplike
instrument.
They began to play before they
had turned to face the audience; and
Felipe, the older, lifted his soft tenor
voice in the Spanish words of a
song: "Let us unite our hearts,
Charro and China dancing!"
There was a China Poblana lurk
ing in the shadows ready to step
onto the platform; a short nervous
Charro stood behind her. Of a sud
den Elsa left me. At the edge of
the crowd I saw Reed Barton move
swiftly toward the platform, and be
fore I realized what was happen
ing, the two were standing before us
under the bright light, and the mu
sicians were backing off to the side
still playing, enticingly, seductively.
I’m sure it was one of those spon
taneous, impulsive acts to which
Elsa was so prone. 1 was reminded
of that February evening now weeks
in the past and far away in Cali
fornia at the beach club, when Reed
Barton had appeared and claimed
Elsa for their first dance together.
And now they stood before us—Elsa
in the costume said to have been
named for a Chinese woman who
brought it to the town of Puebla
many years ago, and which is to be
seen on festive occasions through
out Mexico; Reed Barton in the
costume of the cowboy.
"Senor! Valgame Dios! Senor!"
"Aqui, Maria,” commanded Sam
Chatfield from his place a few seats
beyond us. “Que deseas tu?”
"Oh, senor!" cried the woman
breathlessly, her words smothered
somewhat by the applause. "Val
game Dios! El caballero esta muer
to!"
Rogers’ strong hand fell upon my
leg and his fingers gripped it pow
erfully. "Did you hear what she
said?" he asked, getting to his feet.
"Yes. I heard. Chesebro’s dead."
A little group of frightened wom
en servants was outside the entrance
to Chesebro's room. Sam Chatfield
drove them away, admonishing them
to go back to the kitchen, then threw
open the door, and stood back for
Rogers and me to enter.
James Chesebro lay as if a great
and welcome peace had descended
upon him. His fat body made a
huge mound under the light cover
ing.
The heart failed to rally, I sup
pose. The attack must have been
more severe than Doctor Cruz
thought.”
“Do you think so, Mr. Madison?”
“I don’t know, of course, Mr.
Chatfleld, but—”
I was halted in mid-sentence by
Rogers’ action. He stooped, grasped
the edge of the bed covers and
stripped them back.
"His heart failed for quite a dif
ferent reason. Barry,” he said grim
ly, pointing to a widening stain of
blood over the front of the pajamas.
There was a small hole through
the cloth over the heart, and when
the cloth itself was pulled aside
there was disclosed a small hole in
the skin which still oozed blood.
“With your permission, Mr. Chat
fleld," Hunt said slowly. ”1 should
like to have Dwight and Margaret
stay, and George Rumble, and Reed
Barton too. The police, of course,”
he looked closely at Sam Chatfleld,
“will investigate.”
“I am required to sena for the
juez local and the medico legista.”
There was a suggestion of stiffness
In his words, as if Rogers had an
ticipated his next move and he re
sented it. “The body must not be
touched until one or both of them
have examined it Doctor Cruz hap
pens to be the medico legista at
Mazatlan. The police, of course,
will come.”
The door closed behind Chatfleld’s
short figure, and Instantly Rogers
became active. He glanced at his
watch. It was nine-thirty. “I want
your help, Barry,” he said. “The
capacity of the Mexican police is an
unknown quantity to me. It may
be excellent. I’ve had no experience
with it We should have half an
hour before they arrive. If we’re
to solve the murder of Kitty Chat
fleld, it may be necessary to know
just what’s happened here in Ma
zatlan.”
He glanced about the shadowy
room, neglectful now of the body
that lay in its huge mound on the
bed. “The cause of death is ob
j vious,” he remarked, as if in an
swer to my thoughts. “A small.
thin blade of some sort stopped our
friend’s weakened heart.”
He looked at the little tile table
beside the bed, where Chesebro’s
watch lay and a glass of water
stood. He walked over to a huge
clothespress that reached toward the
shadowy ceiling. “Would you mind
Holding the candle for me, Barry?”
he requested.
1 took it and he opened the door
to the clothespress. “I am looking
for Chesebro’s clothing. Here it is.”
He brought out the suit of clothes
Chesebro had worn that morning,
and ran his hand swiftly inlo the
various pockets. "There’s hardly a
chance that it's robbery," he re
marked. "Gold pencil,” he enumer
ated the various objects as he came
across them. "Loose change in the
trousers pocket. A billfold, obvi
ously containing money. Letters and
papers. That’s all." He put the suit
back into the clothespress again and
shut the door. ,fRobbery is not the
motive," he said.
“Not robbery,” said Rogers as we
finished our round, “and entrance
could have been had only by
"Maybe the murderer i> hiding
there."
means of the door ’’ He stood a mo
ment uncertainly. “A dozen murder
ers could be lurking in the shad
ows of this enormous room. Let’s
make sure they are not doing so
now.”
Rogers led the way to the farther
end of the room. Massive furniture,
dark with age, of a period reminis
cent of Maximilian, blocked our
pathway.
“There s nothing back this way,
said Rogers, holding high the candle
and throwing its feeble beams about
the end of the room. “Let’s go
back to the other end. Maybe the
murderer is hiding there.” He led
the way, holding the candle high
above the level of his eyes. His
foot kicked something as we walked,
and it shot like a dark and ominous
shadow before us and fell to the
floor.,
“What is it?" I asked, feeling
that my voice shook slightly.
“Something soft, and light,” he
said, advancing again. A few steps
farther on he halted, stooped and
picked up the object. “A sombrero,”
he said.
Rogers held the large sombrero
in his hand as if to examine it in
the light of the candle.
I took it from his hands and
walked over to the light near the
bed. It was a black felt sombrero,
comparatively new, for it showed
almost no signs of wear; across the
front of the crown was an orna
mental pattern in hand-wrought sil
ver.
“George Rumble’s sombrero, isn’t
it?” asked Rogers over my shoul
der.
“He has one like this,” I replied.
“It was on the rack near the front
door earlier this evening. How would
it get in here, though?”
“Perhaps George can tell us." He
took the sombrero from me and
dropped it on the foot of the bed,
whera it remained a dark and sin
ister shadow, and turned to the bed
side as if to check again some point
about the murder victim which had
occurred to him. A light tap came
at the door, and Rogers halted
abruptly.
“Come,” he called. The door was
pushed resolutely open.
Vague figures in the dim light
crowded the doorway. Sam Chat
field entered, followed by Doctor
Cruz, and behind him two men in
uniform. They advanced into the
room and the door closed behind
them.
Doctor Cruz nodded to us, and
went at once to the figure on the
bed. Sam Chatfield presented the
other two men. “Senor Otilio Lom
bardo, jefe del policia,” he said,
“and Senor Alvarez of the policia;
Senor Madison and Senor Rogers.”
They bowed to us, but their in
i terest was centered on the bed
where Doctor Cruz already was ex
amining the dead man. They
pushed on to join him and stood re
spectfully back until at last the doc
tor looked up and gave in Spanish
his opinion that James Chesebro had
died of a knife thrust not so long a
time before.
Lombardo and his satellite looked
intently for some moments at the
wound, then turned away without a
word and sat down.
"I am very sorry, Senor Chat
fleld,” Lombardo said, looking up
at our host and speaking in Span
ish, “that this has happened in your
house. I know that your hospitality
is above reproach. You cannot help
this sad thing, of course; it is very
sad. Who is the gentleman?”
“Senor James Chesebro.”
Lombardo’s eyebrows shot up
ward. “He of the mine back in the
mountains?” he inquired.
“Yes."
“That is bad. Can you tell me
who killed him?”
“I cannot, Senor Lombardo.”
“Senor Rogers here,” said Sam
Chatfleld, laying his hand upon Rog
ers' arm, “is quite famous for solv
ing the mystery of murder north of
the border.”
“Ah, so!” exclaimed Lombardo.
"Welcome, my friend. Perhaps we
have a mystery here. If so I shall
lean upon you. But, I think it is
easily explained, no?”
"I hope so, Senor Lombardo,"
Rogers replied in Spanish. “So far
Senor Madison and I have found
nothing of importance. It was not
suicide, because there is no weapon.
It was not murder for the purpose
of robbery.”
“And the weapon, Senor Rogers;
you say you have not found it?”
“I’ve been unable to discover it
anywhere in the room; it is, of
course, a knife of some sort.”
“Yes. Thank you, senor, you have
saved me much work.”
“Did the gentleman have any ene
mies, Senor Rogers, either here in
Mazatlan or at home?” inquired Al
varez, the gendarme. The man had
not spoken until now.
Rogers shook his head. “I know
of none, senor.”
“I think,” Lombardo said, stir
ring to his feet, “it is time we talk
with someone about this crime. Who
made the discovery, Senor Chat
field?”
Sam Chatfleld got to his feet, tak
ing a step toward the door, as if to
lead the way. “I think it was Ma
ria. It was she who came to tell
me of it”
“We shall talk to Maria, then,”
said Lombardo.
The kitchen was large; gloomy
shadows filled all the vast region
above two unfrosted electric light
bulba which hung down from the
high rafters on long cords.
"Stop!” shouted Lombardo. “Do
not rim away, anyone."
Two or three dimly flying figures
made good their escape, while some
four or five less fortunate obeyed
the command and remained behind,
standing with fidgeting hands and
shuffling feet in the presence of the
law.
“Maria,” called Lombardo, sitting
down in a small chair whose creak
ing, polished seat long years before
had been cut from the hide of a cow.
"Yes, sir,” the woman who had
brought word of Chesebro’s death,
as we sat looking on at the dances
in the courtyard, came to a flutter>
attention near the middle oven.
"Come here, senorita,” directed
the chief. Alvarez drew up a chair
before us for the woman, who sat
down timidly, her dark eyes fas
tened apprehensively upon her ques
tioner.
“You made the discovery of the
dead man, did you not, Maria?” in
quired Lombardo.
“Yes, sir."
"Tell me about it."
“I,” she began timidly, "I go to
the gentleman’s room to inquire,
Senor Jefe del Policia, if he desires
food. I push open the door gently
and speak to him. He does not an
swer. I open the door and go in,
and still he does not reply to my
question. I go all the way to the
bed, and—senor—God help me!—be
is dead."
“Did you see the man who killed
him, Maria?” inquired Lombardo.
“Oh, no, sir; I do not. I do not
know who killed him. I swear, se
nor, I do not know. Outside is the
fiesta. I cannot hear. I cannot see.
So I do not know.”
“Come here, you,” commanded
Lombardo.
A man, dressed in white cotton
trousers, a ragged shirt and carry
ing in his hand a battered straw
sombrero, shuffled forward on gua
raches which were little more than
leather soles for his bare feet
“Who are you?” demanded Lom
bardo.
“I am Pedro, sir," the man re
plied nervously.
“Who are you? What do you do?"
"I am Pedro, the pulque man,
sir.” ,
"Pulque man,” grunted Lombar
do. “Why are you here?”
"I bring the pulque for the fiesta,
sir."
“Yes, of course. But what do you
know about the death of the gentle
man in the big room?”
"Nothing, sir. I do not know there
is a gentleman murdered."
(TO BE CONTINUED)
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There are motifs for two pinafores
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Enclose 15 cents (plus one cent to
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Name .
Address .
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