The Howe Messenger (Howe, Tex.), Vol. 19, No. 25, Ed. 1 Friday, July 10, 1942 Page: 2 of 4
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THE HOWE MESvSENGER
Friday, July 10, 1942
household
I
Use a whisk broom, kept for the
purpose, and hot water to sprinkle
the clothes. They will be more
evenly dampened than when sprin-
kled by hand.
* * •
When ironing no matter what
the article, the important thing is
to iron it until absolutely dry.
* * *
Apply several coats of boiled lin-
seed oil to the soles of your shoes
and let dry thoroughly to conserve
them.
* * *
Equal amounts of coffee and
heated milk, sweetened to taste,
make an appetizing drink.
* * *
Old army and National Guard
cloth - covered canteens, which
may be purchased at army and
navy stores, may be used in place
of rubber hot-water bottles.
* * *
If you perspire too freely, throw
a handful of salt into your bath
water.
* * *
Tiny pearl onions make tempt-
ing garnishes for vegetable salads
or canapes.
A most welcome gift to any
pipe-smoker or roll-your-own fan
now in our armed forces is a
pound of ^ favorite tobacco. Nu-
merous su. yeys have shown that
tobacco is the No. 1 gift on the
service man’s list. A favorite with
many of our soldiers, sailors, ma-
rines, and Coast Guardsmen is
Prince Albert, the largest-selling
smoking tobacco in the world. If
you have a friend or. relative in
the Army, Navy, Marines, or
Coast Guard who smokes a pipe or
rolls-his-own, send a pound can of
Prince Albert. Your local dealer
is featuring the National Joy
Smoke as an ideal gift for service
! men.—Adv.
I-
NO ASPIRIN FASTER
than genuine, pure St. Joseph Aspirin.
World’s largest seller at 10^. None safer,
none surer. Demand St. Joseph Aspirin.
Devout Thoughts
Certain thoughts are prayers.
(There are moments when what-
ever be the attitude of the body,
the soul is on its knees.—Victor
Hugo.
CORNS GO I&ST
Pain goes quick, corns
speedily removed when
you use thin, soothing,
cushioning Dr. Scholl’s
Zino-pads. Try them!
DT Scholls Ziriopa
The Unbeliever
It is the pert, superficial thinker
who is generally strongest in ev-
ery kind of unbelief.—Sir Hum-
Da vy.
SAVE YOUR SCRAP
TO KELP GAIN
ICTORY
Old METAL, RAGS,
RUBBER and PAPER
27—42
iWNU—L
That Nag^in^
- Backache
May Warn of Disordered
Kidney Action
ikmg—its risk ot exposure anc
tion—throws heavy strain on the work
of the kidneys. They are apt to beco:
over-taxed and fail to filter excess a.
and other impurities from the life-giving
blood.
hey are
over-taxed and fail to filter excess aci
’ ■'—5-----from the life-givir
mo
cid
You may suffer nagging backache,
j , j,—s---- ——-‘-ig up nights.
tired, nervous, all worn out. utner signs
of kidney or bladder disorder are some-
times burning, scanty or too frequent
urination.
Try Doan’s Pills. Doan’s help the
kidneys to pass off harmful excess body
waste. They have had more than half a
century of public approval. Are recom-
mended by grateful users everywhere.
i>y grat
Ask your neighbor!
Doans Pills
Notes of an
Innocent Bystander:
The Wireless: Elmer Davis will
be missed on the networks. His dry
tones had a debunking magic that
ruined Nazi lies with merely an in-
flection . . . Radio Rome needs an
editor and a rehearsal. H. Denny,
the Times man, has been back writ-
ing pieces about the Italian situa-
tion for over six weeks, but the
Rome short-wavers announced the
other day that he is a prisoner of
Italy . . . It is comforting to no-
tice that the fright note gets more
and more apparent in the Berlin
broadcasts. They had three versions
of American fliers over Rumania,
which is the sort of stuttering that
tips off a worried mind . . . Bing
Crosby’s appeal for 10 jaer cent of
your salary for bonds was a corker.
To wit: “It’s not much to ask, a
mere dime on a buck isn’t giving
till it hurts—because you can’t give
enough money to hurt. I mean hurt
the way some guys are getting hurt.
Pay your way. Pick up your share
of the check. Funny thing. Free-
dom ain’t free. But whatever you
pay for it, it’s worth it.”
The Front Pages: The Times edi-
torial, “Lidice The Immortal,” on
the murder of a Bohemian village,
will live among the masterpieces in-
spired by the war ... A Christian
Science Monitor columnist pointed
out this oddity in the news. That
the king of Greece cooled his heels
in Washington while the gov’t wel-
comed a peasant—Molotov . . . Rob-
ert Lasch described the war policy
of “The World’s Greatest Waste-
paper” (in Chicago): “It has en-
deavored to. lodge the responsibility
for the war with ourselves, rather
than with our enemies” . . . Two
local editorialists are engaged in a
feud. The first reported that the
Atlantic Charter was never ratified
by the Senate. The other pointed
out that the Senate never ratified
the Declaration of Independence . . .
From the L. A. Evening Herald-
Express: On the Noble sedition
trial: “Noble’s attorney asked the
witness whether W. Winchell was
mentioned at the meeting. ‘It is
likely,’ said Ellis Jones, ‘Winchell
was attacking us week after week* ”
. . . With his gents’ room journal-
ism, huh? . . . Ralph Ingersoll
asked the New York Post for a
message on his,paper’s anniversary.
The Post, which is over a century
old, replied: “The first hundred
years (see the N. Y. Post masthead)
are the hardest.”
Typewriter Ribbons: John Ander-
son: It caused such a lifting of eye-
brows that some have not yet come
down . . . The N. Y. Mirror: If
you can’t go over—come across!
. . . Jake Falstaff: Great buffalo
clouds, roaming the blue sky prairie
. . . Louise R. Peattie: A man’s
method of packing is to strangle his
clothes and bury them . . . E. Buck-
ler: It is good to lie in bed and let
sleep’s drowsy wind blow out the
candles of thought . . . R. L. Ste-
venson: You don’t really love free-
dom if you’re not willing to protect
it against those who hate it . . .
N. F. (in a Letters to the Editor
colyum): How come Hitler doesn’t
blame the Jews for Heydrich’s as-
sassination? Is it possible he doesn’t
want to give the Jews credit for a
good deed? . . . Anon: Scared as an
isolationist congressman when you
mention his voting record . . . C.
E. Heller: Lucky as a mosquito on
Marlene Dietrich’s legs . . . John
Harrower: As primitively brutal as
a sissy biting his own lip.
New Yorkers You Won’t See from
a Sight-Seeing Bus: Shoestring An-
nie—as well-known as the mayor to
the Lindy Restaurant set. Always
wears one shoe sans a lace and
asks for a nickel to buy some . . .
Razor Phil — soft-spoken, well-
dressed, who sells tickets for testi-
monial affairs (to himself)—a well-
groomed Commodore Dutch. Car-
ries a barber’s razor in the rear of
his collar for protection . . . Ted
Lewis’ original Shadow—now has a
bar and grill on W. 44th Street which
features a juke box with only Ted
Lewis recordings. Still wears a bro-
ken down high hat, a la Ted . . .
Jerusalem Jake—a Negro who wears
artist’s attire. Always needs coin
“to get back to Jerusalem.” Speaks
French, English, Spanish and Yid-
dish fluently . . . Morris the Dancer
—which he isn’t. A bookie . . . The
Owl—a giant Negro. Gets the name
because he arises every 3 ayem,
clocks the horses at the tracks until
8 and peddles his figures to handi-
cappers . . . Swifty Morgan—a
necktie peddler (to celebrities only
if you please) who rides in a chauf-
feured limousine.
Manhattan Murals: The winding
garden path that leads to a sleepy
little country chapel on West! 69th
Street. . . The pairs swapping good-
night kisses in dimmed-out Times
Square—just as though it were a
front porch . . . The topsy-turvy
backstage set-up at “This Is the
Army!” rehearsals. All the chor-
ines are boys and all the stage-door
Johnnies are goils . . . The door-
man at the Waldorf with his pince-
nez, white mustache and uniform—
more regal than all the monarch*
who dwell there.
By ARTHUR STRINGER
THE STORY SO FAR: Alan Slade has
agreed to fly a “scientist” named Frayne
to the Anawotto river to look for the
breeding ground of the trumpeter swan.
It is bleak country, and Alan suspects
Frayne of having something up his
sleeve, but Norland Airways needs the
job. Slade and his partner, Cruger, have
been having trouble competing with the
larger companies, and Frayne has paid
enough to enable Cruger to buy the plane
they need. When he thought Norland
was going to have to quit, Slade applied
for overseas service with the army air
corps. His application was rejected, but
his disappointment has been lessened
considerably by the brighter outlook for
the business and by the fact that Lynn
Morlock, the local doctor’s daughter,
has decided not to go to England with
her Red Cross unit. Now he has gone
with Lynn while she gives first aid
treatment to an outcast flyer named Slim
Tumstead, who has been hurt in a fight.
They learn that Tumstead knows about
Frayne and about the new Lockheed.
It is a few minutes later, and they are
talking about their plans for the future.
Lynn fdels that she must think first of
her father’s happiness.
Now continue with the story.
CHAPTER IV
“But you m.ustn’t forget,” Slade
contended, “that you have‘your own
life to live.”
“That’s what I’m trying to re-
member,” was Lynn’s vibrant-
voiced reply.
They came to a stop in front of
the hospital steps.
“Some day,” he said with a wave
of recklessness, “I’ll make you see
it my way.”
If it sounded like a ^threat it
brought no touch of concern to the
hazel eyes searching his face. A
smile even hovered about her lip
ends.
“You’ve got a harder job than
that,” she retorted, ”if you’re flying
in to the Anawotto tomorrow.” Then
the smile disappeared. “By the
way, I saw that ornithologist who’s
flying in with you. He was asking
me what I knew about the country
north of the Kasakana.”
“Is he as screwy as he sounds?”
asked Slade.
“He^-s far from screwy,” was
Lynn’s slightly retarded answer.
“He struck me as being cold and
hard and shrewd. And I can’t fig-
ure out what he’s after. It rather
makes me wish someone else was
piloting him into that wilderness.”
Slade was able to laugh, as they
shook hands.
“Don’t lose sleep over that,” he
proclaimed. Then he laughed again.
!{ve flown some queer nuts into
North.”
flade, hurrying sown to the air
harbor, could see his moored plane
tyeing warped in to the landing dock,
(bn the dock itself he could make
out Cassidy, of the Norland staff,
and two strange figures, one more
massive than the other. But what
held his eye was the amount of
duffel piled along the dock’s edge.
As Cruger had told him, they were
giving him a load all right. Even
Cassidy’s broad face broke into a
smile as he handed him the scales-
slip. For Slade’s glance, at the mo-
ment, was directed toward the two
men already interested in getting
their equipment aboard. He resent-
ed the offhand way in which the big-
ger of the two strangers was clam-
bering about his ship. The worn
wolfskin coat that covered the wide
shoulders of this stranger made him
look shabby and subordinate.
When the pilot turned to his sec-
ond passenger he experienced a
sense of disappointment touched
with shame. For there seemed noth-'
ing sinister about the straitened and
scholarly figure confronting him.
That figure even failed to look fool-
ish. Slade saw a man considerably
less aged than he had expected, a
man with sloping and narrow shoul-
ders and an abstracted gaze that
looked out on the world from behind
bifocal glasses.
Slade stepped closer.
“Quite a load you’re giving me,"
he ventured as the man in the bi-
focal glasses continued to divide his
attention between the duffel pile and
a checklist in his hand.
'ihe abstracted eyes lifted and re-
garded him for a moment of silence.
It was the glasses more than any-
thing else, Slade decided, that gave
the stranger his look of delibera-
tion.
“Why does that interest you?” the
stranger inquired. His tone was mild
and without hostility. But the voice,
low-toned and remote, seemed
marked by an exotic precision of
intonation. It persuaded Slade that
he was neither an Englishman nor
an American.
“This happens to be my ship,”
the pilot explained as he rested a
fraternal hand on the sun-faded
fuselage.
“Ah, then we shall see much of
each other,” said the other. His
smile was friendly but abstracted.
“I am Doctor Frayne. And this is
my camp-mate, my good man Fri-
day, Caspar Karnell.”
No Responsive word came from
the big-bodied man in the wolfskin
coat. He merely stood above the
cabin hatch, his eyes expression-
less.
“Caspar is not—shall I say?—vol-
uble,” observed the Doctor. A mild
and forebearing smile wrinkled the
scholarly face behind the glasses.
“And that, I might also explain, is
why we travel together.”
Slade, after an inspection of the
bland emptiness of Karnell’s face,
nodded his understanding.
‘‘Quite an arsenal you’re taking in," he observed.
% “They tell me I’m to take you in
to the Anawotto,” prompted the
bush pilot.
“That is my desire,” answered
Dr. Frayne. “It may so happen
that we shall winter up north.”
“Down north,” Slade corrected.
“We speak of it here as down north.”
The man with the abstracted eyes
ventured a shrug.
“With time,” he said, “I shall be-
come better acquainted with your
country.” His movement, as he
swung a bag of what had every as-
pect of mining tools up to his com-
panion, wras almost a dismissive
one.
“Prospecting?” questioned Slade.
“I am not interested in prospect-
ing,” was the deliberated answer.
“I am a naturalist.”
- As though in confirmation of that
statement he lifted a case of mount-
ed bird bodies up to his waiting
companion. Then again the forced
smile showed itself.
. “It may impress you as a foolish
profession. But for many years now
I have given my time to the study of
bi,'d life.”
51ade glanced down at the Mann-
lic her-Schoenauer. the two holstered
Li gers, the pair of shotguns of dif-
fe ent gauges and weight that rest-
ed between a scattering of cartridge
ca ses.
“Quite an arsenal you’re tak-
g in,” he observed.
just a . moment the opaque
ej%/regarded him.
“I am not unfamiliar with the
rth,” Frayne announced with a
tience that seemed coerced. “It
is /well, in case of the unexpected,
to be able to live off the land.”
‘Of course,” agreed Slade as he
watched the firearms being stowed
aboard. They were followed by a
te bale and sleeping bags, by con-
densed foods with foreign labels, by
camp equipment and a box of signal
flares and cased instruments and
even two carrier pigeons in a hood-
ed cage.
“You’ve filling me pretty full,” ob-
served Slade.
Frayne’s face remained expres-
sionless.
“Any inconvenience that I may
cause,” he said, “1 profoundly re-
gret. I had hoped, on arriving
here, to purchase a plane. But they
are not to be bought, I find.”
“There’s use for ’em just now,”
observed the pilot. “We’re in the
war, you know.”
The eyes behind the bifocals be-
came less opaque.
“But here at least,” observed the
man of science, “I shall not see it
come between me and my re-
search.”
“The office tells me you’re after
trumpeter swans,” said Slade.
“I am seeking the nesting ground
of that noble bird,” acknowledged
the ornithologist. “They are ex-
tremely shy and hard to find in the
brooding season. That is why I go
into an empty country like the Ana-
wotto.”
Slade, not unconscious of the ped-
agogic note, felt the need of prov-
ing that his interests extended be-
yond gas engines.
“Ever try for them around the
Red Rock Lakes in Yellowstone?”
he asked. “They started a refuge
for trumpeters there not so far
back.”
“A refuge which will be a failure,”
was the prompt response. “Your
trumpeter is a child of the wilds.
He cannot be adjusted to confine-
ment.”
His new friend, Slade admitted,
seemed to know his bird life ail
right.
His eye-squint deepened as he no-
ticed two heavier cases being lifted
aboard. “By the way, are you tak-
ing radio or wireless in with you?”
“Why should I do that?” Frayne
questioned. “It is with the lady
swan I wish to converse.”
“But how’ll you come out?” asked
Slade. “How’ll we know where to
pibk you up?”
Frayne’s gaze again became dif-
fused.
“That may not be necessary,” he
finally explained. “We shall per-
haps work our way through to what
are locally known as the Barrens
and come out along your Hudson
Bay coast. It is a country you
may happen to know?”
Slade smiled.
“I know it all right. As much as
a white man can know such ice-
fringed emptiness.”
The bush pilot found himself be-
ing inspected with a new interest.
“That is extremely good news,”
averred his passenger. “As we fly
north, I hope you will give me in-
formation about a country that is
still distressingly unknown to me.”
Slade resisted the temptation to
observe that it wouldn’t be so un-
known to him by the time he’d
wintered there.
“But you won’t get swans as far
east as the bay,” he pointed out
instead. “At least, not trumpeters.”
Frayne’s smile became more
friendly.
“Already,” he announced, “you
are helping me. And there is an-
other point on which you might en-
lighten us. Is the Anawotto River
navigable?”
“No, it’s not navigable,” an-
swered Slade. “It’s blocked by too
many falls and rapids. That’s what’s
kept the country closed. Even Tyr-
rell couldn’t get into it.”
“But there were no planes when
Tyrrell made his survey,” observed
the scholar.
“It’s sure empty country,” assert-
ed the pilot, who had his own mem-
ories of the Anawotto.
“That,” murmured the swan hunt-
er, f is entirely to my liking.”
“But you’re not entirely to my
liking,” was the thought that hov-
erld about at the back of Slade's
hejhd. Lynn, he felt, was right Yet
he Was their Santa Claus, as Cruger
haq expressed it. He had paid well
for \service, and he’d get service.
Slade dismissed that thought and
turned to study the silver-winged
Lockheed that rested on the waters
of the Snye. It looked spick and
span in its new coat of aluminum.
He realized, as he swung about,
that the man in the bifocal glasses
was also studying the Lockheed.
“An attractive ship,” the scientist
observed. “It was my intention to
own her. But in that I was fore-
stalled by your friend Cruger.”
Slade smiled at the sharpened
note in the other’s voice.
“You have to scramble for ’em,
nowadays,” observed Cruger’s bush-
hawk partner.
“So I am learning,” announced
the swan-seeker. He said it casu-
ally. But some newer timbre in the
speaker’s voice made Slade think of
a gun pit smothered in tree
branches.
The brief northern night was at
its darkest when Cassidy, 0 newly
made watchman for Norland Air-
ways, shut off the radio. He sighed
as he reached for his thermos at the
end of the deal table and drained it
of its last cupful of coffee. Then,
lighting his pipe, he stepped out into
the open and blinked about through
the darkness.
He wished he could be having a
second thermos of coffee. But there
was no bright-lighted eating room in
that third-rate outfit on the edge of
Nowhere. Its air lanes were as
short of ships as its administration
building was short of paint All it
was, in faith, was a rough-and-ready
jumping-off place for a lot of luna-
tics who wanted to dig holes in a
wilderness where the frost went
deeper than the gold. It could nev-
er be classed with those high-toned
airports he’d heard many a far-
traveled pilot talking about.
No, Cassidy decided as he made
his rounds, this was a melancholy
place for a man of spirit. He didn’t
like the quietness of the hangar
where the twin-motored Grumman
amphibian stood surrounded by the
engine entrails the workmen had left
scattered about. He was glad to
move down to the dock edge, where
there was 'a little sound of water-
riffles against the floats of the Post-
craft that would be going out in
three hours’ time. Beside it, the
only remaining ship in the harbor,
loomed the new Lockheed that
looked more like the ghost of a
plane, in the uncertain starlight,
than a workaday framework of met-
al and linen well covered with alu-
minum paint.
It startled hirp, as he stood watch-
ing it, that anything so quiet could
give birth to movement. But as he
watched he saw a shadow detach
itself from the shadowy fuselage. He
saw that shadow drop to the near-by
float, and then leap, quick-footed, to
the dock edge.
(TO BE CONTINUEDJ
A SMARTLY flounced blanket j!
chest with contrasting cushion I
is a useful addition to any bed-1'
room. It serves as a convenient
seat; and extra covers are right
at hand on chilly nights. A pair
of these, covered to match
spreads, would go well with twin-
beds.
Plan the size of your chest to
fill your needs and space. It may
be made of one-inch pine and
should be about 15 inches high,
without the cushion. Make the
flounce with double fullness—that
is, twice as long as the space it
is to fill after it is gathered. The
cushion may be filled with cotton
padding, feathers or down.
* * *
NOTE: Book No. 8 of the series of
booklets offered with these articles gives
directions for flowered blanket protectors
and a bedside bag for books and maga-
zines. Also many other things to make
for almost nothing from odds and ends
to be found in almost every home. To get
a copy of Book No. 8 send your order to:
MRS. RUTH WYETH SPEARS
Drawer 10
Bedford Hills New York
Enclose 10 cents for Book 8.
Name................................
Address..............................
Dream Sight
A sight to dream of, not to tell.
-Coleridge.
The white soap, the right soa|r ^
for laundry and diThe'. C
£ —that will save you many a J *
dollar will escape you if ;J
you fail to read carefully and j J
<; regularly the advertising of
<► local merchants * » » .jj
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Bryant, Mrs. Russell W. The Howe Messenger (Howe, Tex.), Vol. 19, No. 25, Ed. 1 Friday, July 10, 1942, newspaper, July 10, 1942; Howe, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth848104/m1/2/: accessed July 6, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; .