Newspapers / Carolina Watchman (Salisbury, N.C.) / March 5, 1937, edition 1 / Page 2
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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. Angry and puzzled, Ellen tells Pat McClate-hney, a kindly old storekeep er of h er difficulty, and Pat with the help of one of Benham's crew, suc ceeds in getting Ellen on board as a stowaway. When the vessel is well under way Ellen emerges from her hiding place and faces John Benham, who now; cannot help taking her w ith him. During the voyage Ellen begins to be strongly attracted by John. But when she reaches Fort Edson she finds her father broken, ill and 1 | disgraced, and learns that his trou-^ bias are due to one man—John Benham. Instantly Ellen resolves that she will fight for her father. She will reinstate him with the Hudson Bay! Company, his employers, and will show up John Benham for what he really is. , From Bernard Deteroux, an employe of the company, who professes friendship for her fa ther. Ellen hears that Benham', supplies whiskey to the Indians. ' She sets out on a long and ted- ] ious journey to obtain proof of i this, returns thinking she has got ' it, and gives information to the ' authorities. ! - I seventh Installment Ellen rose to her feet also. “That need not worry you Tro oper Whitlow,” she stated quiet ly. “1 had already made up my mind to return immediately. I will be ready to leave in anj hour.” Angus Mackay began to ob-l) ject. “But you are weary, lass. ' You—” “1 am not nearly as weary as’ 1 was.” broke in Ellen with a queer smile. “In an hour, troo ■ per.” TTVere" asa vas 1“d'iffefCTtct;~iti the trip back to Mink Lake for Ellen, coming, out she had tra velled through a drab, lowering world, in which not one iota of j worthiness existed. She had heard nothing, seen less. Her spirits had plumbed the depths and remained there. It seemed there was no brightness, no bea uty, no truth in all the universe. Now, however, it was differ ent. The sheen of sunlit water, - the whispering incense of the ( forest, the gay laughter of the ] birds, all were responded to in , kind by a thrilling, inner con- ] sciousness. ] Ellen made no further attempt ] to. blind herself to the reason for1, this change. She knew, and found j warm joy in the finding. Ellen j Mackay was honest with herself. , John Benham was not a half- , breed! h i ms Knowledge rang tnruugu 1 her mind like the chiming of ] some brilliant tongued bell. Over, and over the words rhymed, and j she clung to them as to some-j. thing precious and indissoluble.!] There was a reason for this j and that reason, too, Ellen ad-;( mitted to herself. She loved Johnj, i'.enham. She loved him through!, the ages it seemed. |, From the first time he had bent those clear, flawless eyes upon her he had taken her heart though she had not realized it until he had turned away froini her in the Indian camp and cra-| shed the damning whiskey bottle; against a tree. Then she had known, and the | knowledge had exacted a bit-! terness of though and feeling that had borne down upon her! with a crushing and resisting weight. - .11 ii maiiereu nui, nuw, mat auci was responsible for the informa-1 tion that had set this cold, brus que man in the bow of the canoe on Benham’s trail. If he were guilty, then she would battle side by side with him and do what she could to brighten whatever exactness the law might impose. If he could, by some divine aid, prove his innocence, then she must also be there beside him and ask forgiveness for her part in his accusation. She never thought that her ut ter change in sfirir might be no ted by Trooper V hitlow. But he had noted it. and knew that it dated from that moment when he had told of John Denham’s pa rents. There were times, now, as he sensed the burbling spirits of the girl, when just the shadow of a grim smile flickered across his eyes. In the stern of the canoe, sto ic and still of feature, old Moo sac looked at her with steady, undying, dog-like adoration. For two days they passed nor thward towards Mink Lake, and the trooper and Moosac paddled from before dawn until long af ter dark. Their camps were swi ftly and frugally prepared. The policeman and the old Indian ate quickly, and sought their blan kets to combat the weariness of their ceaseless paddling. So it was that Ellen had long hours to herself through the day and be side the tiny fire at night in wid th to think. There were times when these thoughts frightened her, and ■vhere, at the start of the trip, >he had been consumed with ea gerness, now her heart would tail her and she dreaded the mo rvent when she must again face [ohn Denham and steel herself to the scorn and reproach his glance A’ould hold. And then on the morning of he third day, there came an in-j erruption in their steady pro gress. At a sharp turn of the river hoping against hope, that John Benham was innocent. But here was proof irrefutable, j Then she straightened again. Whitlow was speaking, and his |words brought precious comfort. | “I think you are lying,” snap ped the Trooper. Then old Moosac stirred. “I know for sure that he lies,” sta ted the old Indian calmly in his Imother tongue. “That man is Deteroux’s man. I have seen them often together. Yes—he lies.” “What’s that?” Whitlow tur ned on Moosac sharply. “Speak English. I don’t understand you.” "He says—he says that man is Bernard Deteroux’s man,” In terpreted Ellen, scarcely able to speak for the sudden tumult which broke within her. “It that true?” growled Whit low, whirling back on the ’breed. “Tell me the truth or you’ll an swer to the law, Speak up.” The ’breed paled vicably. But his sullen features grew obsti nate. Whitlow stepped closer to him, his fingers working. Speak up,” he growled. “Answer me or I’ll mishandle you.” Plainly the ’breed was torn be ween two fears—one of his mas ter, should he speak, the other of this cold-eyed member of a force that even the most ignor ant savage in the north knew in-1 fallible and all-powerful. It was the fact that one threat 1 ---'I “Where did you get this whiskey?" snapped the trooper. :hey met four heavily-loaded j fork boats, manned by a motley :rew of half-breeds and Yellow cnife Indians. Trooper Whitlow itudied the boats and cargoes ceenly and suddenly, just as the ast boat was about to pass them le signalled Moosac, and whirl 'd the canoe about in pursuit. At first the boat crews bent o their oars frantically, but vhen they saw the swift ease vith which the feather-like ca loe overhauled them, they ceased ■owing and crouched back, sul en and angry. Whitlow guided the canoe to he rear boat and stepped aboard vith hardly a look at the crew le flung back the tarpaulin co hering the cargo to disclose sev :ral small oaken kegs and numer >us cases of bottles. Catching ip one of the bottles, he smash id it across the gunwale of the ;>oat and sniffed the shattered •emnant he held in his hand, i'hen he turned on the crew sternly. “Where did you get this whis key ?” he demanded, his voice liarsh and uncompromising. Ellen crouched in her canoe, her eyes wide, her heart thun dering in her breast. Moosac’s beady ords were gleaming in fe rocious joy. “Hurry up,” snapped the tro oper again. “Where did you get this whiskey?” The crew squirmed in their seats and bent a common gaze 1 1 _ i •_ n__A UJJU1I cl 5U1 IV -lUUivm^ '-v.v member. This individual clear ed his throat several times before his spirit broke under the boring scrutiny of the policeman. “Dat wiskee—she’s John Ben ham’s wiskee,” he stuttered fin ally. Ellen, who had been leaning forward, tense and breathless sagged back, shaked and heart sick. Something seemed to have snapped within her. She knew now that all along she had beer was present while the other was absent which decided him. He gave a grudging nod. “Oui-oui, M’sieu. I am De teroux's man. “Ah!” Whitlow straightened and found time to flash a tri umphant glance at Ellen. Then he turned back on the ’breed aeain. “Where are you taking this whiskey ?” “Down to dat Great Slave Lake,” muttered the ’breed. “M’sieu Deteroux, she’s meet us then, an’ she’s head for dat Yel lowknife Reviar.” Whitlow nodded. "Land this boat on the beach and have the rest follow suit.” he commanded crisply. Guttural orders followed, and the York boats beached side by side. With deft sureness. Whit low examined the cargoes. Only one boat contained whiskey. The other three were loaded with ba led furs. Whitlow nodded as though some unspoken conjec ture had found substantiation, lie pointed at the whiskey. “In the river with it,” he com manded. “Every drop.” The now thoroughly frighten ed and subdued ’breed went to work with a will. The bottles were smashed across the gun wale, and the heads of the kegs were pounded in with a hatchet and their contents poured into the racing green water, he sweet (strong odour of raw alcohol cut ithrough the air. I when the last drop or tne sum Iwas gone, and the headless kegs !dancing down stream, Whitlow turned to Ellen. His face was glowing with the vindication of |o ° ja friend. “You see where your evidence ipoints now, Miss Mackay?” Ellen nodded soberly, but her ieyes were brilliant. “You can’t Iguess how happy it makes me,’ she answered. .1 W hitlow grinned broadly. “1 can guess better than you think There—there, don’t blush so But you owe John Benham a rea apology.” Ellen’s gaze was unwavering ‘T intend to give it—fully.” Fine. I knew Benham was clean stuff. But Deteroux, he’ll answer and answer plenty. I promise you. He’s been playing a deep game, nder the guise of ja Hudson Bay employe he has |been robbing the men who trus iled him. I “Thinking of it now, it was simple enough. His job was to I come and go. He had legitimate !access to every lake and river in the Dominion, and no one would question his cargoes except on (a long chance like this which was prepared to gamble on. ! “He knew the weakness of the Indians. He traded his whiskey to them for their furs. Their choicest furs. The poorest of the lot he left them to get what they could from your father at Fort Edson. /\rm—ana r nave nearu ui your father’s dilemma. This evi dence will no doubt give him co mplete exoneration. I’ll see that my version of it gets to Hudson Bay Headquarters.” “You are very kind,” murmur d Ellen. “It—it means so much to father.” “I know,” nodded Whitlow. ‘But Deteroux—the filthy swi ne! What a rotten game he’s been playing. And he knew the poor Indians would not dare breathe a word of this nefarious trade, in fear of what the law might do to them. The reputa tion of my organization does not work always as it should. Miss Mackay. Well, this much is settled.” He was thoughtful for a mo ment. Then he turned with spar id ing eyes. “I’m going to send this ship ment of furs directly to Fort Ed son. Your father can grade them and put down a blanket of credit an the books. Then it will be up :o him and yourself to see that hese starving tribes yau have vi sited are carried through the 'oming winter with food and aroper supplies. These supplies •an he charged out against the Fur credit. “And nor doubt there are ot ter tribes that Deteroux has not aeen able to reach yet. When he Fails to show up they will come dinking in to the fort with their furs. They won’t dare wait too ong. What do you think of the scheme?” Continued Next Issue OLD INHABITANTS Stranger: “Have you lived in Bingville long?” Native: “Have I lived liere long? Why, mister, you would n’t believe it but I lived here when there wasn’t a single gas station in town.” roo WEAK Earwig: “I hear your wife is 11; is she dangerously so?” Dillpick: “Oh no. She is too] weak to be dangerous.” SILLY Sadie: “Jerry and I are en gaged.” Susie: “You don’t mean it? Sally: “Of course not, but thej illy fellow thinks I do.” A hopeful candidate in a Boston suburb called on an amateur gar dener who was engaged in a futile search for his garden tools. “If your neighbors in this con stituency return me—” he began. "It will be the first thing they’ve ever returned in their lives,” said ‘he amateur gardener. Columbus County strawberry growers are hauling pine straw from 10 to 15 miles to mulch •heir fields. Health-Wrecking Functional ! PA I TJ Q k £ auIL iJ Severe functional pains of , menstruation, cramping spell j and jangled nerves soon rob | woman of her natural, youth i ful freshness. FAIN lines ii | a woman’s face too often gro\ i into AGE lines! | Thousands of women have j found it helpful to take Car | dui. They say it seemed tc ease their pains and they no ticed an increase in their ap petites and finally a strength ened resistance to the dis comfort of monthly periods. Try Cardui. Of course if it doesn’t ■ .ip ycu, see your doctor. Brasilian Soprano Returns to Air In Broadcast of “La Traviata ” By BIDU SAYAO Just why all are so concerned over the redemption of a fallen woman, and pass by the one who remains vir tuous, must forever be a mystery. It | all seems a little unfair, but there it | is—we cheer and weep over the tri umphs and defeats of the fallen one; we look with dull eye on the woman who keeps all the approved moral rules. To us, the sentiments of the re formed courtesan seem to be so much deeper and finer than those of the honest girl, her beauty more soulful, her new-found ideals far loftier, even her voic with true emotion. oi course, many upc.„. c writ ten on that theme. In one of them, “Manon,” I made my Metropolitan Opera debut just three weeks ago and I am delighted with the way both audience and New York critics re ceived my efforts. Now I am to be Violetta, of the perennial Verdi fav orite, “La Traviata,” in the Metro politan performance to be broadcast next Saturday afternoon, under the sponsorship of the Radio Corpora tion of America, by the National Broadcasting Company. Known to many as “Camille”, its English title, “La Traviata” is the old, old story of a woman redeemed by love. Violetta is not really bad; neither is she weak as Manon is weak. Circumstances—the death of her parents and the company she keeps—have led her into the frivo lous life of the Paris demimonde, surrounded by clever but shallow ne'er-do-wells. Because she knows no other life, she ' all quite pleasant. making merry at Uic aome of Vio letta. who finds in dance and song “the medicine that cures all my ills.” Alfred Germont. introduced by a mu tual friend, quickly shatters this at titude with his declaration of honest love "Life is enjoyment,” she con tends. bit' he replies that that is true 9 ... I only when one does not know lore. “Well,” answers Violetta, "know then that I despise it.” But she is strangely troubled by the “wild tumult” that Alfred has aroused in her heart, and, fearful of the new ecstasy, she resolves to have none of love. “Leaving care always behind—” she s1” ~= "ever thus may I be found.” In three months, however, she has completely surrendered to love and lives in idyllic seclusion with Alfred Just outside Paris. She reads an in tr» 1-,/■>*• fH ~r>/1 Q 3, BIDU SAY AC gay masquerade. “They will look,” she says, “in vain.” Alfred, unfor tunately, has found out that Violetta has been selling her property to maintain the home and. like every man, conceives his honor to be be smirched. He hur ' " "is to raise money. Now comes Alfi u beg Violetta to leave his sou lest his daughter’s fiance, scandalized by the alliance, renounce her. ”1 cannot part from so much happiness'” cries Viole" -mont argues that her past will eventually ruin Alfred's life and finally she agrees to sacrifice her love. Alone again, she writes a letter of farewell. Alfred, returning, finds her shaken, < but she declares that It is for Joy that she quivers. She runs Into the gar den, choking with emotion, and cries, "I’m always near thee, Alfred! Love me as I love thee! ” He soon reads her letter and. chancing upon the Invitation, im mediately Jumps to the conclusion that she has tired of him and has gone back to her old life. He brushes aside his father’s entreaties to re turn home and follows Violetta to Paris. ‘ mho musnnprflrtp with ito cmr>inn and dancing and gambling people, opens the second act. Into this crowd comes Alfred, bent on revenge. He gambles and wins, ai. says that he who is unfortunate in love is lucky, at least, at cards. Violetta, with her protector, the elderly Baron Dou phol enters. Alfred orders her to leave with him, but she refuses and pleads that she Is bound by honor. To Douphol? Violetta, struggling to maintain her composure, looks away and answers, “Yes.” Beside himself with Jealousy, Al fred calls upon all to witness the vindication of his honor. He repays Violetta’s love by flinging his gold at her feet. She faints at the insult, and Alfred’s ff>th°’- for his son’s ii’ f'cids him nwiw In the Iasi cicl, a^ ....a Violetta. wasted by tuberculosis, awaiting death. Alfred’s father has written to say that now his son knows all and that he will soon return to beg for giveness. “Too late!” she muses bitterly. Soon he Sues come mm v ioletta, her will to live restored by his vows of love and reconciliation with hi3 father, feels herself strong again. “I live!” she cries, “I return to life!” And then falls back dead. jOUR PUZZLE CORNER] £&.%£/ Anna Grdniia ^ is 100 KINO for a SOB ^ R£ARRONO£ TN£ ££77ERS W ON 7N£ -F BOARD ~T FOP HEP 70 READ CORRECT/.'/ I EMPEOVMENT ■<* B OFFICE f CAN YOU MAKE AN ENDLESS CHAIN BV OPENING ON LI FOUR ^ OF THE L/NR S ? \ P CflN YOU GET 10 WORDS ° OUT OR THR " ^wordSNOWSTORM P OUR HEALTH COMES FIRST!!! ~ iii—in hi iinimrwTiiiMiiT .—^ Wp Some children develop t Sf asthma through their f SENSITlVITy TO PROTEINS CONTAINED IN THE MUj^OF VARIOUS DOMESTIC ANIMALS \\\ Scrubbing the face with soap and water, MORNING AND NIGHT, iS AN V EXCELLENT WAV TO DISCOURAGE PIMPLES J k AND BLACKHEADS. A COLD WATER / IlRINSE.following the scrubbing / Mk WILL CLOSE THE PORES AND / Ho^ AID THE SKIN U1 X my R?esh air will PI®fl3ISfTP 1 CONSUMPTION WHVX IS MERELV LUNS STARVATION.... ) ^ f Ocsmght iMl. ‘"--ill »iHlimuu.U. i
Carolina Watchman (Salisbury, N.C.)
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March 5, 1937, edition 1
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