POOR MAN'S GOLD Courtney Ryley Cooper 0 Courtney RjrWy Cooper. WNUSerric. SYNOPSIS Jack Hammond, gold prospector, returns to Prince Rupert after a spree In Seattle and learns that a gold rush Is starting as a result of some careless remarks he had dropped at a party concerning a gold dis covery. He finds that his partner, McKen zie Joe Britten, has gone on north to protect their claims. Besieged, Hammond decides to tell the would-be prospectors how to reach the new gold fields. Around the World Annie, a frontier dance hall proprietor, has assembled a troupe of girls and is bent on starting a dance hall at the new camp. Jack muses about Kay Joyce, the girl In Seattle whom he loves and to whom he confided the secret of his gold strike. Going to his law* yer's office, he passes a young girl on the stairs. Jack asks Barstow the lawyer about the girl and learns that she is a volunteer client. Jack tells him about Kay. Tlmmy Moon, a mutual acquaintance, had brought them together. Kay was chilly at first, but when she saw some of his gold nuggets they got along beautifully. He had met her mother and a friend of the family, Bruce Kenning, a geologist. Sergeant Terry of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police joins the gold-seekers on their trip north. Jack en counters the girl, Jeanne Towers, and she asks him to lend her a team of dogs and supplies. He consents. The next day the trek to the new bonanza begins. Later, on the trail, Jeanne Is lost and Hammond saves her. The gold seekers arrive and the new camp Is soon in full swing. CHAPTER IV ? Continued "Well, let 'em work down creek all they want," said Joe. "The real gold's somewhere else. The Big Moose didn't always ride along over against those mountains. It trav eled over here somewhere ? and here's where we'll find the bonan a." "Big as hen's eggs!" Hammond laughed. "Make it a goose; it's just as easy." They returned to work, finally, to clean out the pit. It was a test job ? the first of dozens, maybe a hundred, which they knew they must sink in their search for an age-old river bed, long covered by the overburden of erosion. At last, with the moosehide bucket raised, they started back toward "town." The days were growing longer. Spring already had arrived in cli mates farther south; summer was on the way. But up here, every thing remained under a burden of white. Hammond glanced far to the right. "One less moose," he said. "There's Olson with a supply of meat! The pack that man can car ry!" They watched him angle across the drifts toward the main trail, his rifle dragging, the hind quarters of an Alaskan moose on his back. "Think I'll go beg some of that," McKenzie Joe said. "The way those wild men are coming into this coun try, there won't be a lot of game left." ^ "Get an extra piece, will you?" "Sure. For that girl?" McKenzie Joe started away. "Guess you're right ? guess she's just like the rest of us ? tired of her own grub and fed up with the stuff they hand Out at the Slumgullion." Soon McKenzie Joe, two great hunks of moose meat freezing in his grasp, halted beside his part ner. "Well, here's the meat ana tnere s the last of the snow burners," he said. "Sergeant Terry came along with 'em. Break-up's hit below. Wet snow most of the way until the last forty or fifty miles." Hammond took the unwrapped meat and started away. His course led through a maze of tents, dog hutches, dirty snow piles, hastily shoveled away to reveal the founda tion for a moss-chinked cabin or shacks and uprights of new build ings, the latter an output from a portable sawmill brought in over the snow. At last, he sighted a tiny log cabin; he and Joe had built it for Jeanne Towers. Then he saw the girl. She broke from the door at his approach, running, almost sprawl ing over the crusted snow. She cried out; Hammond saw that she waved something in one hand. In the doorway behind her was framed the bulky figure of a man. On came the girl; she stumbled, straightened, and continued to run. "I've got two hundred dollars!" she cried out. "I've got two hun dred dollars!" She was transformed ; almost childish in her excitement. There were tears on her cheeks. "I've got two hundred dollars!" came again, as she reached him. "I can begin to pay you back." 'Ham mond stared down at the money in her hand. "Oh, it isn't counterfeit. It's all good money ? see ? it's real?" He caught her by the arm, laugh ing. ' "Of course, Jeanne. But where did you get jt?" "I've gold my claim. You told me it wasn't any good. But I got two hundred dollars for it ? see it ? H she waved the money again. Then turning, as the stranger came to them from the doorway, "Here's the man ? " The sentence was cut short. Ham mond had said: "You look like someone I met in Seattle." "And you look like ? why, you're Hammond, aren't you? My name's Bruce Kenning." "Yes, I remember." For an in stant Hammond traveled far away, back to the dock in Seattle, with the sun throwing its morning gleam on smooth waters, with Kay in his arms ? "You didn't happen to bring me a letter ? or anything?" Kenning laughed. He was a sure appearing man, muscular, at home in breeks and boots, just as he had been at home in dinner clothes. "No letter ? but a lot of mes sages." "Do you know each other?" Jeanne Towers asked. "We're old friends of the same family," Kenning explained. "Good to see you after this long trip ? we'll have to spend some time together." "Just in, eh?" "Yes, with today's bunch. I tried' to fight the gold fever. Couldn't. So here I am." Hammond glanced again at the money, clutched in Jeanne's white hands. "I'll say this for you. You work fast." "Don't I?" His smile was dis arming. "Queer how it turned out. I went into Miss Towers' store for some tobacco. Got to talking about the district, of course. I asked what you were doing." Hammond laughed. "Always check up on the fellow who's made the strike?" "Certainly ? first job of a good ge ologist." "You know your mining, eh?" Jack jerked his head. "My cabin's right here. Walk over?" "Glad to," Kenning answered. "Fine. I've a drop or two of Scotch left." Impulsively he laid a hand on the shoulder of Jeanne Towers, as she took the moose meat he had brought her. "You'd better sharpen up your pencil and see what you're going to buy for your store when break-up comes." "But I wanted to pay you?" "That can wait." He patted her shoulder again. Still somewhat dazed by sudden wealth Jeanne Towers returned to her cabin. Ham mond caught eagerly at his com panion's arm. "Listen," he said. "I can't wait. Tell me all about Kay. Is she well? Is she coming up here? Did she really mean it ? you know ? treating me like she cared something about me?" Weeks later, ne stui was asKing the same questions. He and Ken ning stood on a side hill, where forget-me-nots bloomed at the edge of retreating drifts, and the blue of lupin contrasted with the first buds of mountain rhododendron. Spring had come as if a book had been opened and a chapter turned. The streams, only ten days be fore constricted by mounds of ice, now roared to the outpouring of a thousand mountain sides. Every gully contributed its rivulets, every rock slide sprayed a plumelike wa terfall. Below in the village, the sound of hammers echoed endless ly. With waters at flood stage, halt ing much of the gald-seeking, the thoughts of a new civilization had turned to building. That is why Hammond and Kenning had come up here on the hill. Back of them stood a new cabin ? the one Ham mond had promised Kay Joyce he would build for her. "Great view from up here," Ken ning said at last. They could look down on the big lake; a moose feeding in a far away, shallow bay, a few miners fishing in the clear water just off the inlet. I ou can. _ get from your place," Hammond answered. Kenning had built his cabin on the next hill. They went there for a drink, the last of Kenning's supply. Then, with another prideful survey of Kay's house, Hammond dropped down the hill. At last, he walked through the lush grass along the bubbling I course of Loon creek and toward Jeanne's tiny store. She was alone there. He paused at Jie door to watch her, sitting on a rough bench. Then she noticed Hammond's presence, and with a quick smile disentangled herself. "Hello!" she said. It was a wel come, a greeting and an obeisance | al! in one. "Hello," he answered casually. "Still got your two hundred dol lars?" 1 "Oh, I've hidden it." Then, "You missed the excitement. Sergeant I Terry just got a customer for the ' new jail." "No!" This was news. "Who?" "Oh, that Jorgeson fellow. He got in a fight with his wife. He must have beaten her up terribly." * "Too bad. She complained, eh?" Jeanne shook her head. "No ? she stood for it. Somebody else told Terry. Her kind is al ways afraid to complain. People sty they're not married." Jack laughed. "Well, she's lucky at that. Not being tied to him." Jeanne came forward and leaned against the door. The brightness was gone temporarily from her fea tures, she looked thoughtfully out tcward the new, raw camp. "Oh, I don't know, Jack. Some times a woman who isn't married is tied tighter to ? man than if she were his wife. You see, she hasn't anything else ? she lost it when she went with him. Maybe that's why she stands for to much ? " She halted suddenly and attentively turned her head upward. "What's that?" "Sounds like a motor boat. It couldn't be ? " Then a faint shout came from far away. It was picked up by a dozen voices. The fishermen, down at the inlet, cried out? faintly, Jack caught the words: "Airplane ! Airplane coming! There's an airplane!" Doors were banging as Jeanne and Hammond ran from the store. Everyone was running, for that matter, or standing, hands over eyes. Far down the valley, where Lake Sapphire merged with the sky, a great, wide-winged bird was limned against the sunset, moving swiftly into sharper delineation. It circled the town and traveled far down the lake, dropping lower, lower. At last, with its trailing edge-flaps cutting down its speed, it slipped still nearer the lake; its engine snarled anew, and cut off again. Spray scattered like plumes of jetting steam from its pontoons; swishing and splashing, it skipped the water in great leaps, settled again, ploughed onward; then, with the engine roaring anew, began to taxi toward shore. Men ran into the marshy shal lows to greet it, pawing wildly about, then wading frantically to get out of its way. The pilot rose in his cockpit, to motion furiously, warning excited watchers against the danger of the propeller. Jack Hammond gave an exultant shout. He leaped from the side of Jeanne Towers and splashed into the water without even feeling it. "Hello, Timmy!" he yelled. "You made it, Timmy!" The man in the cockpit, veering from side to side as he watched the water depths about him, raised a hand in answer, then swiftly re turned to his task. Now Jack could see the cabin windows. Two persons were inside; Hammond saw that Kay was one of them. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted at the height of his lungs. He jumped up and down in the water until he was dripp'jig. He waved his arms. Hfe jerked off his hat and threw it at the cabin door ? at last it opened. Kay Joyce, trim in polo shirt, fawn-colored breeches, riding boots and red nails of an equal luster, leaned out. "Jack!" she called. "Don't splash around like that. How in the world will you ever carry mother and me ashore? We'll be simply dripping, you old silly!" It was Bruce Kenning, however, who finally carried Kay and her mother ashore. Hammond, all of a sudden, had realized that he was a sodden mess. Then, with the land ing of the party, everything be came confused ; gold seekers crowd ed about, placer miners waded out to catch the rope which Timmy Moon had tossed to them, that they might knot it to a pontoon and an chor the ship. Now Hammond was back in his own cabin, talking ex citedly as he changed his clothes. "Kay's crazy about the cottage," he volunteered. McKenzie Joe, squatted on the doorstep, turned his beaverlike head. "I figured she would be, for awhile." "What do you mean awhile?" "They're city people," said Mc Kenzie Joe quietly. Hammond laughed, tightened his belt, stood immobile a moment, then clawed about him in the half dark room for a necktie. "Don't you worry about that. Kay can take it. So can her mother. They like the outdoors." McKenzie made no direct reply. He only eyed his partner. "Kind of dressing up, aren't you?" ??wen," saia jacic wnn a grin. "You know ? their first night here. We're all going to the Slumgullion to eat. Come along?" "Nope." Joe said it half brusque ly. "Little abrupt, aren't you, Joe?" he said at last. "Not particularly." A queer feeling of resentment shot through Hamtnond. "Joe," he said finally, "what's been eating on you?" "Nothin' but mosquitoes, I reck on." "Let's not joke," the younger man said suddenly. "You've been dif ferent ever since we came back here." "Me different? I ain't noticed it, Jack." "You haven't seemed yourself. Moody ? thinking abput something all the time. Grouchy, like you had a chip on your shoulder." "When?" asked Joe. "The other day, for instance, when Bruce Kenning dropped by our test pit." "He was asking a lot of ques tions, wasn't he?" Hammond spread his hands. "Oh, Joe ? suppose he was? Can't a man be interested in what a friend's doing? You'd think he was going to jump our claims, the way you act." "That wouldn't do him much good," the old prospector said, ? ith a masked smile. "Not the way they're turning out." "Then why be so cagey? We haven't got anything to hide." (TO BE CONTINUED) I Rainy Season Bridge in Guatemala City. Prepared by National Geographic Society, Washington, D. C.?WNU Service. WHEN you enter Guatemala City, you are in the most populous place in all Cen tral America. With a pop ulation of 120,000, including about 6,000 foreigners, Guatemala City is a thriving metropolis of well-paved streets, department stores, luxury shops, cafes, country clubs, busy factories, garages, and modern ho tels. Its motion picture theaters, showing mostly American "talkies" with Spanish subtitles, advertise with big electric signs overhanging the streets in Broadway style. At the capital's covered central market, the largest in the country, the array of foodstuffs, textiles, utensils, furniture, and other com modities is endless. Its long aisles, and the streets adjoining the mar ket building and cathedral, are al ways jammed with a noisy, restless throng of merchants and buyers. And the odors, strange, spicy and heavy! The fresh scents of vege tables and exotic flowers mingle with the greasy smell of cooking food, the aroma of roasted coffee, and the balmy fragrance of copal incense. Those with weak stomachs may not like the appearance or odor of freshly slaughtered meat. Nor will they find appetizing the leached corn mash for tortillas; or arma dillos roasted in their shells ; or crude brown sugar pressed into dirty blocks and balls. But vis itors are delighted with bright trop ical fruits piled in artistic disar ray, graceful baskets and glazed pottery, and gay textiles woven on primitive hand looms. Guatemalans are proud, and just ly so, of the fine coffee grown in their highlands. Placards in Eng lish and Spanish remind the visitor at every turn that "Guatemala Grows the Best Coffee in the World." On the days when tourist trains arrive in Guatemala City, the de partment of agriculture holds open house. Small packages of freshly roasted coffee, wrapped in glazed paper, are presented to each visitor. They are appropriate souvenirs of a nation which is the sixth most im portant coffee grower in the world, being exceeded only by Brazil, Co lombia, the Netherlands Indies, Venezuela and El Salvador. The second most important ex port is the banana, grown in the coastal plains bordering the Gulf of Honduras and the Pacific. Airport a Busy Spot. One of the busiest spots today in this busiest of Central American capitals is La Aurora airport. Here the trunk line of the Pan Amer ican Airways from Brownsville, Texas, to Panama connects with a half-dozen local air services to dis tant parts of the republic. Many who do not come to Guate mala City by plane, come by boat, and dock at San Jose, a sleepy little tropical port. Between steamers this "back door" to Guatemala drowses in the shade of tall bread fruit trees and coconut palms, and carries on a desultory commerce with the Indians of the coastal la goons. Its dingy water front, ragged por ters and fishermen, stifling heat, and main street pre-empted by rail road tracks give no promise of the color and activity of Guate mala's gay, modern capital, high up in the cool central plateau. The first part of the 73-mile Jour ney to Guatemala City follows a gently rising plain, whose black vol canic soil is planted thickly in ba nanas, sugar cane, cotton, cacao, and fruit trees. Guatemala City is nearly a mile above sea level, in the cool and healthful tierra tem plada, or temperate zone, and the train must gain most of this alti tude in the last fifty miles. Not far beyond Palin the line creeps through a narrow valley be tween two towering peaks and comes out on the edge of mountain rimmed Lake Amatitlon. For sev eral miles the railroad winds along the shore, passing groups of In dian women washing clothes in hot springs at the water's edge. It is a con%-enient laundry, for clothes may be boiled in the springs and rinsed in the cold fresh water on >a upoot. OAS < ?f?d lungs, making Hto j You cant oat or also*. Ymt i ache*. Your back achos. Vim- mm plosion io sallow and piaapty. Ymt broatb ia foul. You aro a aick. pronrhy. wrotchod. unhappy Btrsta. YOUR SYSTEM IS POISONED. Thousands of sufTorsrs bavs T to Adlorika tho quh ii ataini Adlorika rtda yot i you of paa i out of BOTH REAL cioanaing with AdlsHka. Oat rid of OAS. Adlorika dooa not pHpo ?is not habit forming. At al Liidm WNU? 4 16 ? ST HELP KIDNEYS T? Ot KM of AcM Doans Pills