MiULm
SECOND INSTALMENT
SYNOPSIS: Ellen Mackay, on her
way from school at Winnipeg, to join
her father at Fort Edson, misses the
boat by which she was to travel.
Hearing that another boat was to
start north in the morning, Ellen
goes to the owner, John Benham, and
begs him to give her a passage. To
her surprise he flatly refuses.
"This is Angus Mackeys lass,
Pierre,” announced Pat.
Pierre Buschard murmured a so
norous greeting and bowed clumsily.
Eilen smiled and advanced close
to the giant riverman. "You are go
ing o help me, Pierre?”
<‘Oui, oui, mam’selle,” rumbled the
big -fellow'. "M’sieu Benham, he’s be
mad lak’ wolf at Pierre Buschard,
but Pierre do w’at he can. YTou come
wit’ Pierre now mam'selle, and we
must be quiet lak’ lynx w’en he stalk;
dat rabbit.”
Ellen, victim to a sudden tumultu
ous thrill, scurried away and donned
her mackinaw and cap. Back in the
big room she stood on her tiptoes,
and pecked Pat McClatchney on one’
w'hiskery cheek with her red pursed
lips. "I’ll remember this, Pat,” she
promised.
“’Tis little enough, lass. Now
stick to your guns and I gamble this
will come out well enough. I feelr
6ure of your safety, for w'hatever
else he may be, John Benham is a
gentleman and the finest riverman j
in the north. Now run along with
Pierre and do just as he says. He
has already taken care of your lug-1
gage.”
Pat gave Ellen's arm a squeeze
and shook hands with Pierre Busch-j
ard. The next thing Ellen knew
Pierre had taken her by the elbow
and was guiding her steps down the
sloping bank of the river.
It was still out there, vastly ex
cept for the ceasless beat of the
river, while the night throbbed to the
power of the limitless wilderness
which stretched away to the north.
A faint, haunting, quavering note
Spray drenched her and the wind of their speed clutched at her face.
drifted down from among the mas
sed stars. The geese were winging
north. All things were heading
north, even she! Ellen found herself
thrilling with a strange, wild ecs
tasy.
There was a big Peterborough
canoe pulled up on the shore, and in
the bow of this Pierre placed the
girl. Then he shaved off, balancing
himself deftly in the stern, while he
lifted and dipped a gleaming paddle.
The buoyant craft trembled before!
the grip of the river, but headed
againsPt the current and stole gently
upstream. I
Ahead a jutting point loomed. Still
as a wind-blown shadow they round
ed the point and drifted bankwards
again. Uncouth shapes took form
in the night. Ellen recognized the
loaded scows of John Benham’s
brigade. The canoe drifted in and
gently nosed the nearest scow. Sil
ently Pierre Bus chard stepped to the
scow and held the Peterborough firm.
“Come, mam’eelle,” he whispered.
Ellen stepped out beside him.
Pierre indicated the massed cargo1
of freight upon the scow. He lifted
up one edge of the tarpaulin which
covered the pile. "Under here,” he
breather. "You must hide. For a
day and a night you must hide,
mam'selle. Den we will shoot dat1
Cascade Rapid. Ifsieu Benham, she's
not send you back after dat. I have
put dat food and water and blankets,
mam’selle. And Pierre, he’s watch
out for you.”
Ellen gripped Pierre's huge paw
with both her slim hands. "You are
kind, Pierre,” she murmured. ‘*1 will'
__!'
never forget this.”
"Bien,” he igrinned. “She’s make
me happy to help, mam’selle. You
hide now, quick.”
Her heart beating thunderously,
Ellen crept beneath the edge Of the
tarpaulin and crouched quietly. She
felt the slight quiver of the scow
as Pierre left it. Alone now. Alone!
Definitely committed to the great
adventure. The future might bring
_anything, but queerly enough, El
len felt no fear. Only a stirring an
ticipation.
She remembered those strange,
marvellously clean, almost hypnotic
eyes of John Benham. The next
time they rested on her_what
would they mirror? Surprise, yes.
Anger_almost surely. Yet Ellen
felt comfort somehow.
It was cosy there in the darkness
beneath the tarpaulin. She stirred
and felt about her. Then she bless
ed simple, big-hearted Pierre Bus
chard. For, in a crevice between
the massed bales and boxes of the
cargo was a bundle of food and the
sleek, chill contours of a jar of
water.
Ellen snuggled down into the
blankets, covering herself with the
warm, comforting folds. After a bit
she relaxed all tension. The scow
rose and fell to the surge of the
iver, creaking and complaining at
its tether like a blooded horse, an
xious to be gone.
Ellen's thoughts grew dreamy and
clouded with sweet languor. The
scow became a cradle and the great
mysterious force of the river a gen
tle hand to rock it. Presently she
slept.
When Ellen Mackav awoSce again
it was with a start and a short gasp
of surprise. For a moment she
scarcely knew- where she was. Then
all that had happened during the
night came back to her and she re
laxed. Close beside her a deep voice
was booming. A moment she list
ened, then smiled. Her perturbation
left her. In its place came a flood
of warm, dancing thrills. She began
humming- softly, keeping time with
the cadence of the song the deep
chested riverman was singing. It
was the old song of the river bri
gades, the Chanson de Voyageur.
A.nd it meant that the scows of
John Benham’s brigade were at -ast
[reed of their tethers; that they were
now part and parcel of the great
spring migration into the distant
wilderness of the Three River Coun
try.
The chili of early morning was
still in the air, and Ellen was grate
ful for the warmth of her blankets.
3he lay there quietly, queerly con
sent. Strange the transition wrought
within the space of two short weeks.
3he thought of the school life she
nad left behind her; of the compan
onship, the gaiety, the luxury. A
far cry indeed from her present posi
:ion. Yet she knew no regret. It all
seemed queerly vague and lacking
n outline, somewhat 'like a -half- re
membered dream. Suddenly she
realized that the inexplicable rest
lessness which had actuated her
luring those four years had been
nothing else but a form Of nostalgia,
[t had been her own country; the
far countnry, that had been calling
:o her. And now she was going
come!
Presently the riverman ceased his
song, and then all the multitude of
esser sounds became manifest The
loarse, throaty mutter of the river;
:be endless song of adventuring
waters; the creak of stout timbers;
he rasp of hard-swung sweep*
igainet the thole . pins- Once the
thrill hunting scream of the osprey
tchoed. Several times she heard the
toft shuffle of moccaslned feet pass
ng close beside her hiding place
At first these sounds were sooth
ng, but with a passing hour or two,
■estlessness seized the crouching
firl. -Her hiding place was far from
mcomfortable, but it was irksome
;o remain so still and quiet when
;very fibre of her being called for
rreedom and action. She began
LVidly te crave sight of that world
'"l)ich lay just beyond the thin cov
ering of capyass.
It was the rising sun which made
Ellen's position particularly uncom
ortable. The heat, under that can
res covering grew thick and heavy.
3ef0re long she bathed in perspir
ition, and she drank often of the
water the thoughtful Pierre .Busch.
ird had provided. The crawling
lours seemed innumerably k>*g. She
lid-her best to sleep thos* hours
'way, but a ftiful doze was the best
the . could accomplish. By the time
ughtfall brought blessed coolness
igoin her bead was aching and her
muscles tormented with the inac
tivity. But when, by the efforts and
shouting of the Cree Indians, she
knew the scows were being warped
into the bank tc tie up for the night,
renewed energy came again to her,
and she smiled in triumph. One more
cool, friednly night in hiding, and
in the morning the brigade would
shoot the Cascade Rapid. After that
she would be safe in making her
presence known to John Benham.
For, once below the rapid, he could
not send her back without expensive
delay and labour.
The seows were in movement when
Ellen awoke on the 'following morn
ing. Again some member of the
crew, invigorated by the sparkling
dawn, was roaring out the river
song. And again the river was
speaking to her, though a new note
had entered its voice. At first it
was only a distant throb, but as
time went on the throb became a
deep rumbling roar. Cascade Rap
ids.
Fresh activity arose on the scows.
Directions and advice were shouted
back and forth. The creak of
sweeps on thole pins became stead
ier, firmer. The scows began to
pitch and rock. Ellen, even in her
walled-in covert, could distinctly
feel the increase in speed. The
thunder of the rapids arose to crash
ing proportions. Then it seemed as
though a giant hand grasped the
scow and hurled it out into utter
chaos.
Mad waters! The hoarse, quiver
ing roar of the pent river beast, bat
tling the barriers of confinement.
Spray arose to tingle the lungs. The
scow leaped and danced like the
merest cockleshell, if men were
shouting now, then their voices were
being beaten back at their lips.
Ellen was not frightened. Rather
was she thrilled to her fmcer-tins.
Here was the true pioneer blood,
which beat rich and strong and vi
brant in the battle with natural
forces. Abruptly she swept aside
the tarpaulin and stepped forth.
Confinement had become intolerable.
The men at the sweeps did not seem
to notice her. With quick, thrilling
steps she ran to the front of the
scow and braced herself there. Spray
drenched her, the wind of their speed
e'utched at her face, her throat, her
hair, her clothes, whipping the lat
ter tight about her slim, valiant fi
gure.
Presently Ellen turned. The crew
spied her now, stolid, dark, stoic
faced Cree Indians, and they stared
at her in shy, unwinking amaze
ment. Eyes from other scows had
marked her presence also, and she
saw Pierre Buschard grinning broad
ly and waving at her. Then one ot
the big craft headed in towards her
own. When the scows were still a
jood three yards apart a big, bare
headed figure cleared the space in
one clean leap of splendidly co-or
dinated muscles, and a moment later
John Benham was beside her.
"Well,” he said slowly, his voice
steady and deep. "I see you've won.
And by the grin on Pierre Buschard
I can guess how you did it.”
Ellen’s courage came back with a
rush. She smiled. “I was desperate,”
she answered. "It was the only way.,
I hope you will not be angry with
Pierre. He was very kind. And as I
said at first_I will pay you well for
your trouble.”
A queer hardness twisted his mouth
and a certain glint of triumph shone
in his eyes. “My payment is already
assured,’’ he said grimly. «Tm a
good hater. I’ll exact my pound of
flesh.’’
Ellen stared at him. In a space
of seconds he had become somehow
stern and savage. A ripple of fear
shot through her. It couldn't be . .
surely . . .
"Don’t worry personally,” he stated
with a swift, harsh laugh, reading
her thoughts with disconcerting ease
“you’ll be quite safe. And Pierre is
-n old and valued friend. He meant
weU."
A crimson tide aigain flowed across
Ellen's face. “Thank you," she said
stiffly. “Im not afraid.’’
Benham nodded and turned away.
Going .back to the crew he snapped
few tense orders. The Creea lean
ed muscular bodies against the
sweeps and under Benham’s direc
tions drove the scow up to the bank
and tethered it there.
Ellen’s uneasiness grew. Was he
going to send her back after all?
Was her .triumph to be so Bhort liv
ed? Then she breathed more easily.
Benham, axe in hand, had leaped
ashore and was swinging the gleam
ing blade in swift, powerful strokes
among the slender boles of a dwarf
birch thicket. In ten minutes' time
he had felled and trimmed a full
dozen of the tapering poles and had
passed, them aboard. A moment lat
er the scow was again out in the
iver, scudding northward.
Continued next week
Strength During j
MIDDLE LIFE :
Strength Is extra-important
for women going through the
change of life. Then the body
needs the very best nourish
ment to fortify it against the <
changes that are taking plape. .
In such cases, Cardui lias j
proved helpful to many worn- ’
en. It increases the appetite j
and aids digestion, favoring
more complete transformation :
of food into living tissue, re- ,
suiting in improved nutrition •
and building up and strength- 1
ening of the whole system. ,
H Mother—heed the urgent ad
vice of doctors and hospitals;
do as they do; give your baby a
daily body-rub with the anti
septic oil that chases away
germs, and keeps the skin SAFE.
That means Mennen Antiseptic
jDil. It’s used by nearly ill
4" maternity hospitals. It gets
down into skin-folds—and pre
. ... .vents infection, chafing, chap
ping and roughness. Get a bot
tle today. At any druggist. •
MENNEN Antisdptic Oll
U. S.rBOYS* SHOW ARGENTINIAN #
ADVENTURERS A CAMPING TRICK
Members of the Madison Square Boys Club in New York City
Demonstrate That Food Is the Universal Language Wh ■>" They
Play Host To Victor Scaraffia and Vicente Espasa.
A GROUP of young hikers, all members of the famous Maoison
Square Boys’ Club, which holds a remarkable record for success
in saving boys of the slums from the streets and preparing them for
constructive citizenship, recently entertained Victor Scaraffia and
Vicente Espasa, good-will exploring adventurers, with a typical Amer
ican outing on the roof of the Club at 312 East 30th Street,
MckW Vnrl; Pitv <•>—-—
Scaraffia and Espasa, whose
25,000-mile inter-continental trek
on a tandem bicycle was climaxed j
by a dramatic entry into New |
York via the Holland Tunnel, ex- i
pect to remain some time in the !
United States as good-will embas
sadors from their native Argen
tine. <
Neither of the South Americans
speaks English, but an interpreter j
pinch-hit for them as they describ- j
ed their extraordinary adventures
to the wide-eyed boys. Attacks j
by a giant eagle, struggles with a i
20-foot python, ti.'ee days in the j
dense tropical forest without food
or water, when their condition
was so weak that they were forced
to take turns, one mounting the
bicycle while the other pushed it
—these are but a sample of ex
periences that made their friendly
camp on a 30-foot-high roof seem
better to the boys than the pros
pect of a jungle adventure.
When It came their turn to
brag, as all explorers will, the boyp
talked everybody’s .language —
food. In less than fifteen minute'
they prepared a good old-fashion
ed American vegetable-beef stew
complete with dumplings, made
from soup-and biscuit mix. This
example of speed-cooking on an
outdoor fireplace proved to ih.
South Americans that American
•boys know at least one camping
trick that will be worth remember
ing when they mount their tandem
bicycle for another cross-continent
hike. Sea raffia, left, and Espasa.
right, were much impressed with
the roof-camp, which is equipped
with two fire-places and two tents,
with rare examples of Xertn
American Indian totem poles, the
gift of Archibald Rooseyelt.
Guard Child’s Eyes During
ffEyestrain’’ Season
■ " 1 ii- By Jean Prentice - ■■
a 'nriim mm km rnmn'milii.Mmm ~~T~' ■ I
■ct. uLi—l. .... csa.. ■ - ■ 1 ! ■ ■ . i«.aa
Three-fourths of all a young child learns, say scientists, comes
through the eyes. Prevention of eyestrain-is particularly
important during these early years.
STUDENTS, six or sixty years of
age, need good lighting for bet
ter sight, better grades , . . and for
less of that “tired feeling.”
And just as children need the
proper size of chair and table for the
comfort of their bodies when they
study, so they need proper lighting
for the comfort and protection of
their eyes.
These facts are pointed out at this
"eyestrain” season of the year by
lighting scientists who have care
fully studied light in its relation to
sight.
No longer does the alert mother
or father take it for granted that any
kind of light is safe for home work.
Research in the country’s lighting
laboratories has showr. us differently.
Poor Light Causes Eye Defects
Impaired eyesight is found in one
out of five' school children, two out
of five college students and three
out of five persons over forty. And
we" know that poor lighting has been
a contributing cause, to this regret
able condition.
By actual test it has been proved
that home work is easier for chil
dren when studied under improved
lighting, and that better grades re
•ult.
"All right,” say? mother, “I’ll im
prove the lighting. But how?”
First, .have your lighting- meas
ured. It’s being done these days as
matter of factly as yot}, call upon
the thermometer for your child when
•he get* side.: Light is measured
with a little instrument called a light
meter. The meter may be carried
about in yoqr.hand.. A moving needle
points on the dial to the amount of
light you have (in a measurement
called “footcandles”). Your lighting
company can easily do the measuring
for you. :'' '■ /' "
In many homes only five foot
. candles of light are found at the
child’s study table. Yet nature gives
us at least 500 in the shade of a tree.
Your child should have a minimum
of ten for most textbooks.
Quality of Eight Important
But quantity of -light has little
value without quality. This means
an even amount of general illumina
tion throughout the roqrn in addition
to light from a study lamp. The eyes ;
are thus not constantly forced to j
“change gears’.’ as they look from '
light to dark.
Quality of light also means a good |
lamp. Ideal ones for your child are j
those approved by the Illuminating j
Engineering Society, a nationally j
known group of lighting men and
eyesight specialists. The lamps are
made in a variety of designs by a
number of manufacturers. Their
proper height, wide shade and inner
translucent. bqwl generously, distrib
ute the light both up and down and
’ over a wide Sf ear The light is smooth
and soft, -.and- harmful -glare -it
avoided- < ^ j
And then watch your boy or girl
study under one of these lamps I Of
try it yourself^.
^jNUWAlPKTt REVEALED
Scallions of love jJCAN ARTHUR merits a
place in the Hall of fame. Darina the
filminq of ADVfNTUAl IN MANHATTAN^
she plowed alove seen* with JOU MeCREA,
who had been munchinq seallions.Time
out had to be taken In '‘tokes*’so
that Jean could bis
“-■-|- -
” M6INALD OWiiTl
S«rv« d tkfte qeors In I
_ franee as lieutenant
oftft«RoA|al Garrison
Artilleru.. •
^ kb O S
Tonque-twistinq HERMAN BINS it on accomplished
linquistond collects fbretqn dictionaries,
tvorqone at Columbia Studios was con
vulsed everq time Herman rolled his* r's*.
Traveling Around America
— ' " —k*.
■ ..... Phots Gracs Lin* ''
TRAVELER’S TREE **,.„.*. ‘ '!
IfERE'S a tree which acts like a
** pitcher and looks like a fan and
is called a traveler’s tree. It collects
water between the spokes of its fan
like branches holding as much as
two pitchers full at a time—a supply
which, back in pioneer days, it is
said, furnished refreshment to tired
and thirsty travelers This palm Is
only one of dozens of s'-ange looking
trees which travelers visiting Pan
ama on the weekly cruises to Chile
Had around the Canal and in South
America. • •
For instance, there are the cannon
ball trees which bear fruit resem
hling cannon balls, each containing
four slices of meat which resembles
somewhat that of the avocado near
but is not known to be worth eai <ug
Then there’s the monkey-puzzle tree
with Its hard, rough bark so ridged
that It Is totally unlike other tree
barks and completely puzzles ambi
tious monkeys trying to elimD it.
The white lily tree ie also common
to Panama—in blossom U has lovely
white lilies, and produces;-a, gum
whjch bird vendors melt and. stick
on the branches t'o entrap,thirds The
banyon tree is another Mraftgi* spe
l ctes having limbs which turts hack
and grow into the ground. The nay
paya is another native tree, with
fruit the meat of which resembles a
mellon and is an all-occasion affair
which finds its way into.everyrhing
from salads to cocktails,, and from
cake to ice cream; and if the need
arises, can. through its pepsin con
tent, make a toOgb steak tender. i
UNUSUAL
-by “ffiovk Spotlight”
GENE MORGAN'S
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