Newspapers / Carolina Watchman (Salisbury, N.C.) / March 12, 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 MeCiatchney, 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 hoard as a stowaway. When the vessel is well under -way Eiien 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 disgraced, and learns that his trou bles 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 Detercux, an employ* 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 this, returns thinking she has got it, and gives information to the authorities. Trooper Whitlow, of the Mou nted police, asks her- to go with him to find Benham and con fronts him with the proof of his villainy. It develops that Benham is innocent and the liquor is be ing supplied by Deteroux. Eighth Installment * *. “It—it is wonderful” breathed Ellen ectatically knowing what it would mean to .Angus Mackay to have this big shipment of high grade furs come into his post. “And I pledge myself to see that the tribes are cared for. But how are you going to get the cargoes to the fort?” "You’ll see,” chuckled Whit low. He turned to the ’breed again. “Where is Deteroux now ?” The 'breed waved an arm up stream. “M’sieu Deteroux, she’s at dat Cree Camp on Mink Lake.” Whitlow shot a swift glance at Ellen, who distinctly paled at this information. “Was John Benham there also?” demanded Whitlow. i he breed shrugged and shook his head. “I no see ’um.” “Very well,” nodded Whitlow curtly. Me unearthed a notebook and pencil from his pack and wrote a swift message to Angus Mackay. This he tore out and folded. Then, starting with the breed he went slowly over the entire crew of the boats. Each man he stopped in front of he stared at closely and scribbled swiftly in the notebook. The men were uncomfortable, nervous and they would not meet his eyes. W hen he had made a complete round W^hitlow came back to the ’breed and handed to him the note he had written Angus Mackay. “You will now head directly to Eort Edson,” he ordered. “These furs you will turn over to Factor Mackay there, and also deliver this message I have given you. Then you will remain at the fort until I return. If one fur is missing or if any man in your crew is not there to report to me —let him beware.” And W7hitlow tapped his notebook. The ’breed nodded vehement ly “She’s been as you say, M’sieu.” “Good. Now start immediate iy The York boats were soon on the way, the oars flashing in the sun. Ellen watched them until they were around the bend and out of sight. Then she looked at Whitlow. "Do you think they will really deliver the furs?” she asked doubtfully. “What’s to keep them from going straight on and ne ver showing up again?” Whitlow laughed “This. I’ve worked long among the tribes and with the ignorant rivermen. Miss Mac kay. If there is anything they fear it is to see you apparently writing down something about them. “Perhaps some of the more su perstieious ones feel you are casting some spell over them At any rate, they do not understand and what they do not understand they fear. So they’ll re there— every man jack of them, and the furs will he delivered quite safe lv. You can depend on that.’’ I “Put there still remains . . .” Ellen left the sentence unfin ished. I i->eieroux, snapped vv niuow. '“I’ll tend to him now. Come Mo osac, we must hurry.” Again the canoe shot upstream I Whitlow and Moosac driving :t onward with smooth, powerful sweeping strokes. The stout ma ple paddle blades creaked and hissed, and the crystal water of the river surged about the canoe in foaming whirls. Ellen, crouching tensely in her place, thrilled with a subdued but powerful excitement. She exulted hugely in the knowledge that John Benham was now exo nerated from all stigma, and she knew abysmal shame that she should ever have believed him capable of criminal operations. But she was eager to see Deter oux in the custody of the law. Two miles above where the York boats had been met, the canoe shot through the last tug ging stretch of the river and ghd d out upon the emerald, flawless surface of Mink Lake. A mile away to the northeast a sloping, tree-clad point jutted. In the still air just beyond the point hov ered a pale cloud of smoke. Ellen pointed. " There is ti e camp,” she stated The candence of the paddlej quickened. Ellen glanced over her shoulder at Moosac. 'The old Chippewayan had not noticed her survey. His eyes were fixed .'lie stared unwinking. She saw Benham whip in a slashing punch which made a gory wrech of Deteroux’s ljps, and fwhen Benham leaped in to follow up his advantage she saw Deteroux drive him reeling back with a wicked blow over the heart. For a moment they seemed to rest, circling each other constan tly, their eyes blazing with utter hatred; their smashed lips peel ed back in animal snarls. 1 hen they closed again with a tatoo of smashing fists. Body to body they stood locked, motion less except for the knotting and crawling muscles of their should ers, and their short, deep pant ing for hard-won breath. They were magnificent brutes. Like his face Deteroux’s tor so was bronzed and coppery. Against it Benham’s skin was startingly white, gleaming like marble. Something caught in El len’s throat, and her eyes mist ed as she saw the great livid bruises Deteroux’s iron fists had wrought on that white skin. If anything. Deteroux held the advantage of height and bulk. The dimensions of his shoulders were terrifying, and the knotted muscles across the back of them made him seem almost hunched. On the other hand, Benham’s muscles were long and smooth, and even to Ellen’s tutored eye there was a lithe speed in his movements that his opponent lacked. The fighters ripped apart as though by mutual consent, then stood toe to toe, slugging with a wild, ferocious abandon. The spate of fists on hard flesh seemed as sharp and clear as the blows of an axe. The flurry slackened, and it was John Benham who gave back. Deteroux, his feet wide apart and leaning slightly for ward, seemed as immovable as a Deteroux’s steely thumbs dug into Benliam’s eyes. on that column of smoke, and a change had come over him. Expression showed into his wrinkled, brown face. No longer did it seem flat and stupid. In stead, by some strange force of inner excitement, each feature seemed to have sharpened. There jkas a new cast to his head. Some thing of the cruel, rapacious look of an eagle was there. The old man’s lips were mov ing. He seemed to be chanting silently. Despite herself, Ellen shivered. It seemed to Ellen that in no time at all their canoe was round ing the point. The hoarse, unre cognizable murmur of many voi ces reached her ears. Through the intervals of the tepees she caught sight of a surging group. No one noticed them as they landed. All eyes were on two crouching men who padded about one another on moccasined feet. These men were stripped to the waist, their faces were bloo dy, their gleaming torsos splotch ed and carmined, and they were driving out terrific blows at one another with knotted fists. One was John Benham—the other Bernard Deteroux! Ellen Mackay never knew how she reached the inner edge of that crowded circle about the two fighters. But she was there, and then it seemed that utter physical paralysis gripped her. Only her eves were free, and giant rock. As his opponent slipped away from him, Deteroux gave vent to a rasping snarl and leaped for ward. Benham, poised and ready, drove him back with another crushing blow. Again they seemed to rest a moment, then both sprang anew to the conflict, and again they stood with locked arms and writhing muscles. Time edged on. The fighters seemed tireless. Their blows were still terrible, club-like. Ellen managed to tear her eyes away for a moment, and her swift, searching glance saw Whitlow standing at her side, his eyes cold and gleaming with intent on the fighters. At last Ellen managed to shake off the paralysis which had frozen her body. She grip ped Whitlow’s arm. "Stop them!” she cried. “Oh— stop them!” Whitlow did not even hear her. With a little cry of despair El len shrank away, and her eyes went back to the conflict like steel drawn to a magnet. She was just in time to see Deteroux ex plode into a mad cataclysm of ferocious movement. His arms whirled, and he flung Benham from him like a child. Then he charged in with plail ing fists. They crashed into Ben ham’s face and jaw with crush ing force. Benham toppled back lis head rolling. A sigh went through the wat ;hing circle, a circle of savage faces gleaming with the stirk madness of combat. It seemed las though Benham could not 'elude or recover from that beserk charge. He was bent back help lessly, and his knees were sag ging. | Abruptly he caught himself, 'ducked into a crouch and side stepped. Deteroux, unable to halt his charge, lunged past. And Benham smashed him under the ear with a blow which whirled; |the bigger man half off his feet. I Now it was Denham’s turn to | .harge, and this time Deteroux gave way, lunging blindly from side to side in a futile attempt to avoid the rapier blows that !were cutting his face into a blo ody mask. I Kevuision gripped Hllen. bne felt nauseated—sick. The stark brutishness of it all cast a dread ful spell over her. The hoarse, gasping, snarling breathing oi ;the fighters, their bloody swol len features, their grim, hate-fil iled, blood-rimmed eyes—it was ja nightmare picture to the sensi tive girl. j “Stop them,'’ she cried again, j ler voice shrill and hysterical. I ‘Oh—won’t somebody stopj them ?’’ One person in all the group I heard her. And that person was John Benham. In the midst of his advantage he stiffened, and his hands dropped at his sides. J 111 is head swung on his shoulders | ■and his bloodshot eyes rested! ifull on Ellen’s white face. For just a moment the mad ness of conflict seemed to fall! from him. He relaxed. Anf in; that moment Deteroux was upon! him like a pouncing panther. Dimly Ellen heard W hitlow's sharp cry of warning. Then she ciw Deteroux’s great paws wrap about John Benham’s head, and saw Deteroux’s steely thumbs dig into his opponent’s eves A gasp of sheer agony broke I from Benham’s lips. A shudde’U rippled through his body, and he gave way slowly, teiringj frantically at Deterouv s wrists.; Someone was shouting in Ellen’s; ar. It was W hitlow, and his face' was white and accusing. | “You little fool!” he raged.I ‘Now Deteroux will blind the; boy—he’ll blind him! And it’s] your fault!” Ellen’s world reeled. John1 Benham’s eves, those clear, flaw-1 less eyes, helpless now before! Deteroux's ferocious gouging.; And her cry had made Benhaml drop his guard. She began to sob. j little breathless sobs. “God.” she] whispered. “Please—God !” Continued next week Jack Oakie’s College • Gets “No Study” Flan YOU can tell from the picture that Jack Oakie, radio and screen comedian, has just thought I of ’ a new way to increase enroll I ment at his mythical Oakie Doakie | College. “What we need Is a new 'no study” plan ” he says. And Miss I Penny, his secretary, thinks that’s just too, too wonderful. < Oakie and his college are fea tured on Tuesday evening broad casts over Columbia’s coast-to-coast network. Benny Goodman’s swing band, guest stars and best of real undergraduate musical talent se lected from colleges and universi ties throughout the country are also contributing to the success of this sensational air show. I i It was necessary to use ampli fiers at the Cleveland County courthouse recently when farm-| ers gathered to hear the 19371 far mprogram explained could not all get into the auditorium, j Mexican Chili For Informal Kitchen Party For real informality and lively good fellowship, try a kitchen party with everyone a “cook.” Mexican Chili, made in the Thrift Cooker of the new Hotpoint electric range, is easy to make, economical and certain to warm the cockles of the hearts of “those present.” Serve with hot crusty rolls (heated in the range’s warmer drawer) and a crispy orange and grapefruit salad and you’ll win new laurels as a perfect hostess. Glaa vs bwarthoul to $mi* Le a a In Metropolitan Opera's “Mignon” B> GLADYS 3WARTH0UT For years it seemed to ine that the i destiny that shapes the fate of opera singers had forgotten to get me out of boys’ parts. I seldom bad a chance to wear the ruffles, rustling skirts and all the silken finery that every woman adores. It was boots, boots boots, doublet and hose, cloak and sword, almost every time I emerged from the Metropolitan wings. If there was an opera with a boy’s part, the directors apparently said to themselves, “Well, there’s Gladys Swarthout—she cuts a fine figure as a lad.” So I curtsied as page, wore Nicklausse’s satin breeches and the royal habiliments of the Tsarevitch. Not to mention the tights of Frederick in “Mignon.” But now I am through with Fred erick. Next Saturday afternoon I shall be Mignon herself for the first time in my Metropolitan career. In the presentation to be broadcast by the National Broadcasting Company and the Radio Corporation of America. And even if Mignon Is quite a tomboy, there Is still plenty of compensation In portraying her struggles to be recognized as a wo man, with a woman’s right to love. At the opening of the opera the good burghers of a small German town are gathered at the tavern en joying their pipes and beer, and won dering who Lothario, an aged min strel of blurred memory whose life is spent in seareh of his abducted daughter, really Is. Their attention quickly shifts to the arrival of a band of gypsies, Mignon amoDg them. It comes time for her to do “the dance of the eggs” but, resentful of ill treatment, she refuses. The gypsy leader raises a stick. Lothario, at tempting to intervene, is shoved aside; but not so Wilhelm, a student traveling in search of adventure. V ", — - After he has calmed the gypsy with a pistol, Mignon shyly divides her bouquet of wildflowers between him and Lothario. Now, Philine, an actress, misses nothing of all this. Wilhelm is imme diately taken in by her coquetry and eagerly accepts an invitation to fol low her to a nearby castle where her troupe is to play “My flowers!” GLADYS SWARTHOUT gasps the indignant Mignon, notic ing Ph nine’s bouquet. Wilhelm has bought Mignon’s freedom and, dressed as a page, she accompanies him to the castle. There he bids her warm herself by the fireplace. "I’m not cold,” she says softly, "I’m happy near you.” Philine, not as blind as Wilhelm, forestalls Mignon by diverting his attention to herself. Soon he is mak ing ardent love to her. Mignon triee to ignore the scene, but she is miser ably jealous. “I loathe her!” she hisses under her breath. After the pair leave, Mignon tries on one of 1'hiiine’s beautiful dresses and Wilhelm, returning, is amazed at the transformation from boy io woman. He tells her that it is best for hei reputation that they part. To make things worse, Philine conies in and humiliates her. Poor Mignon tears the lace off the dress and the actress cattily remarks that one might say the girl was jealous. Again in gypsy costume, Mignon rushes out into the night, intending to drown herself. There she encoun ters Lothario, on his way to Italy, and she runs to him for sympathy. The sound of Philine’s triumphant song rings through the night and Mignon bitterly calls down ven geance upon the castle and its occu pants. The idea begins working in Lothario's mind and he sets Are to the castle. Philine comes into the park with her admirers and orders Mignon to run back for a bouquet she has mis laid. Desperate and forlorn, Mignon hurries away. Then everyone dis covers the fire and Wilhelm dashes into the flaming structure and. against her will, rescues Mignon. still clutching the handful of with ered flowers. In the last act we meetyWllhelm. Mignon and Lothario at the Castle Cypriani in Italy. Mignon Is finally recovering from the shock and Wil helm has finally come to his senses. He declares his love and the willing Mignon is soon convinced of his sin cerity. Lothario, his memory jogged by familiar surroundings, discovers that it is really he, the Marquis Cypriani, who owns the castle and that Mignon is his long-lost daugh ter. The curtain falls on this “hap pily ever after” scene. Wilfred Pelletier will be our con ductor In Saturday’s Mignon and the roles of Wilhelm and Lothario will be sung by Charles Hackett and Ezio Pinza. -"I— 5igns of Spring--——-by A. B. CHAPIN ICOMIKIO SOOMl —I ^ OECiiih*. am*..* •» I ^ I , j5Ln _ __ , Points nortn-: |E-XHlB\TiOM GAM1 Igiawtj vw I Sr. I v wmm.r~ i&aroeki S' ! J=q-_ _. r-, i>PAiM 'VQ>ja'., (Ffia^V^flrrv^rrr-s Cvjam&E ',Buy eari_y( buy NOW,ton. caster!^ I *1 |ry <? —;f2f j,^ 1 I f ' I ,'l p -..-• : --v- 'V ■'■■■. h ' *"* j
Carolina Watchman (Salisbury, N.C.)
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March 12, 1937, edition 1
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