PAGE SIX
STRAIT
GATE
By RUTH
COMFORT MITCHELL
OpyrtgM
D. AppUOa-Cwtwy 0., Inc.
WNU Berrien
THE STORY
CHAP'TSR I Sarah Lynn Dana,
youngest of the Dana women of Dana
vale, Calif., chafes at the well-ordered
life approved by her mother, Adelaide,
who is trying to marry her to Duncan
Van Doren, Detroit society youth. Great-
Granny Dana, covered-wagon pioneer,
and community matriarch, recognizes in
the girl the restless adventurousness of
the dark Danas," a trait shared by her
and Coi'sin Sally Ann Dana, traveler and
author, and pleads with Sally Ann ta
take the girl abroad.
CHAPTER ll—Uncle Lynn, wheelchair
invalid, adds his plea to Sally Ann to
save Sarah Lynn, as does the girl's
young brother, Bill. Another plea comes
from Miss Pennington, "Penny," ador
ing governess of the girl, saying she is
unhappy and misunderstood. Charmed
with Sarah Lynn at their first meeting.
C«* 1 1 tr A nr> nnnc'Haro ♦ iHoo
CHAPTER III—At a family dinner
party, Sally Ann first hears of Keaton
bana's ultra-modern wife, Ardine, who
runs a roadhouse called the Stewed
Prune, and is trying to wangle a flight
with Gunnar Thorwald, Norwegian ace,
famous for his refusal to fly women,
through their mutual friend, Jim Allison.
Sally Ann tells Adelaide of her desire to
take Sarah Lynn abroad. At the height
of Adelaide's displeasure, Gunnar Thor
wald arrives with Jim Allison, and Sarah
Lynn is instantly attracted to him. Dun
can invites her to the Stewed Prune.
CHAPTER IV—Sarah Lynn, loathing
the Stewed Prune, refuses to drink any
thing but grnger ale, which Ardine
herself serves. Cousin Mary Dana Web
ster tells Sarah she suspects Ardine and
her friends of framing on Gunnar, and
Sarah Lynn, in an increasing stupor,
decides to warn him When Gunnar ar
rives. angry at Jim Allison for missing
connections, he hears Sarah Lynn cry,
"Go away! Don’t come ini, Ladybug, fly
away home,” and sees her carried out
to the ladies' room, unconscious.
CHAPTER V—Jim Allison and two
friends arrive at the airport and warm
up Gunnar's plane, but when Gunnar ar
rives, he is told Allison is ill. Sarah
Lynn, partly out of her stupor, imag
ines the sensations of flying, with Gun
nar at the controls. Gunnar, .in a
cold rage, senses someone standiiig be
hind him. Thinking it Ardine, his rage
mounts, and when he realizes it is Sarah
Lynn, he shouts, "Keep away fropi me,
drqnken fool,” will listen to no explana
tion, and plans to detour to Fresno.
CHAPTER VI
Miss Pennington always marveled
that her charge never wept, even in
childhood, but Sarah Lynn was cry
ing now, bitterly and uncontrolla
bly, salt tears running into her
mouth, shivering under her woolly
coverings.
In spite of the cold, the stinging,
biting air, she was seared and shriv
eled by the flame of Gunnar Thor
wald’s scorn and contempt.
"Keep away from me, drunken
fool!”
The hideous irony of it —Sarah
Lynn, flat-tire in the mad tempo of
fourth generation Danavale because
she would never take a drink! She
looked at his rigid shoulders, at the
relentless angle of the head in the
sternly classic helmet and absolved
him utterly. Why shouldn’t he have
believed the worst of her, seeing
her there in that loathsome place,
heavy-eyed and staggering and bab
bling?
"I’m not afraid!” she exulted.
“I’m not the least particle afraid.
I adore It This won’t be the last
time —I won’t let it lje. I’m going
to fly all my life. It’s fun! It’s
heavenly! It’s the kingdom and the
power and the glory!”
There was a bump which threw
her forward in her seat, and then
they were thumping along over a
field, terrestrial again, all glory
gone. They turned and drew up
presently In front of brightly lighted
buildings with a big group of people
before them. An attendant came
running to meet them.
Gunnar Thorwald did not leave
his seat He spoke through the
window.
"Thorwald, San Jose to Glen
dale.”
“Gas?”
“Nothing. I land a passenger.”
Without looking round, he indicated
Sarah Lynn with a motion of his
shoulder.
_. The mart opened the door and
thrust in Kis'Tread. out,
lady?”
“I—yes, I suppose—” Sarah Lynn
got to her feet, tripping over the
blanket, gathering It clumsily into
her arms. The attendant reached a
hand to help her.
The Norwegian ace did <uot turn
his head as she went by him.
"I am sorry,” Sarah Lynn began
unsteadily. Then the words came
in a rush. "No, I’m not! I’m glad,
glad! It was the most wonderful,
glorious—”
The pilot was silent, eyes set for
ward.
"Look out, lady! Low bridge I”
the attendant warned her.
Sarah Lynn, looking at Gunnar,
lifted her chin defiantly and struck
her forehead on the casing of the
low door, and the man helped her
to the ground, the blanket trailing.
She raged at herself. Must she al
ways be grotesque before him? Al
ways a figure for scorn and loath
ing?
“Say, is that Gunnar Thorwald?
Feller that flew the ocean?” the
attendant wanted to know excitedly.
"Yes."
"Well — gosh! Hey, Eddie! That's
Gunnar Thorwald! You know —the
Norwegian ace?”
The other came running. “The
deuce it is! Why, sure—that’s his
ship, all right. Hi, fellers!” he
waved a beckoning arm. "Know
who that is?—Gunnar Thorwald!”
Sarah Lynn was aware of a gath
ering group as the. plane took off.
“Can you feature that?" one of
the workmen said in a low tone.
"Just came down to dump her,
huh?”
"Yeah; threw her out like she was
a sack of mail.”
"And look at her! What’s the big
idea?”
A large and noisy element was
added to the crowd, pouring out of
the bright waiting-room, a man in
evening dress, a girl in bridal cos
tume, half a dozen men and gills
with flowers and old shoes and rice
and confetti, all staring at Sarah
Lynn.
A man in the company’s uniform
came up to her, touching his cap.
"Beg pardon! Is there anything we
can do for you? Would you like a
taxi? I mean, where are you go
ing?”
"To San Jose; to Danavale.” She
turned round then, coming out of
her abstraction, painfully aware,
suddenly, of the curious throng. Her
face flamed. She gathered up the
blanket and shook it and tried to
wrap it around her.
"We haven’t another plane to
night.”
"I must telephone my father,”
Sarah Lynn said. "Where—”
The bride ran after her and
caught hold of her arm. "Say, lis
ten, sister,” she said in a high,
sweet voice, “are you in a jam?”
“I’m quite all right,” Sarah Lynn
said stiffly.
"Well, is that nice? Throwing you
out like a sack of mail! Is that •
good old Norse custom?”
"I want to telephone—”
"Here —I’ll show you!” She picked
up her glistening train.
Sarah Lynn followed her. "Is this
Fresno?”
"Well, for Pete’s sake! Didn’t you
know where ypu were landing? Yes,
this is Fresno, and here’s your
booth. I’ll wait for you.”
"Thank you,” Sarah Lynn said
coldly. "It’s not necessary.” She
looked fully at her for the first time
and took in the details of white
satin and filmy veil and orange blos
soms. "I mustn’t keep you from —”
"Oh, that’s all right!” she said
easily. "It’s just one of my wed
dings! Married in Hollywood and
flying to Frisco and set the ship
down to say hello to a bunch of
nit-wits. Go ahead and telephone
your folks.” The young man had
followed them and he said some
thing to her in a low tone. She
nodded. ‘‘Don’t shut the door, dear
ie—you’ll smother in that box. I’ll
stand right here.”
The youth lit a cigarette and
strolled away, but kept within hear
ing distance.
"I want Danavale 3704. Yes. It’s
a suburb of San Jose. I want to
speak to Mr. Dana —Mr. Edwin
Lynn Dana.”
There was at once panic and re
assurance in the sound of her fa
ther’s voice, thick, drowsy, amazed.
"It’s Sarah Lynn. I’m at Fresno.
Fresno. F-r-e-s-n-o! Why, I flew
down. Flew! With Gunnar Thor
wald. What? I don’t know where
Duncan., ia. Ob* Dad, please—l’ll
THE ZEBULON RECORD
explain everything when T see you.
How can I get home? I haven’t any
money.” She was silent, listening.
“Yes, at the Fresno airport. Shall
I wait here? What? All right Yes;
the Californian hotel and ask for
Mr. Pond. How soon can you get
here?—Tell Mother not to worry,
please! I’m perfectly all right Yes
—I understand —Mr. Pond, Califor
ian hotel." Her voice, thin,
strained, hoarse, warmed suddenly.
“Oh, Dad, It was glorious—glori
ous!—yes. Good-by.”
The young man came close to
her, speaking with controlled ex
citement. "You’re Miss Dana?
From Danavale? I used to work on
the newspapers in San Jose. You
flew down with Gunnar Thorwald?
Well, of course you did,” he grinned,
"but what I mean is, weren’t you
going all the way to Glendale with
him?”
"No,” Sarah Lynn said briefly,
aware now of the avid curiosity in
his gimlet gaze.
"Isn’t it a fact he vowed he’d
never take a woman up in his
•hip?”
“Yes.”
"And then he kidnaps you in a
blanket and —”
“He did not” she defended him
hotly. “It wasn’t his fault —I mean,
he didn’t intend— ” she stopped, con
fused.
"Why did he dump you out like
that? Didn’t you ask him to set
you down at Fresno? But you didn’t
know it was Fresno, did you? I
guess maybe it was a pretty wild
party, wasn’t it? Do you mind tell
ing me just how —”
The bride put a protective arm
about the forlorn, thin figure. “Lay
off the interview. Beanie! Isn’t it
a girl’s privilege to get out and
walk home when she wants to?
Probably the Great Dane got a lit
tle too primitive and she—”
"No!” the girl said vehemently.
"It wasn’t his fault! I told you it
wasn’t his fault!” She walked away
from them, her blanket spreading
out behind her like a train, and
spoke to the uniformed attendant.
"I want a taxi, please.”
"Wait!” the bride ran after her.
"There’s a flock of cars here. I’ll
have somebody drive you. Look—
I’ll come with you myself!”
"Please don’t trouble,” Sarah
Lynn was rigid. “I want a taxi,
please.”
"No trouble, lambie! Hi, Larry!”
she hailed the groom. "Listen, an
gel; I’m driving this child to the
hotel. Back in a jif’.’’ She flung her
long white gloved arms about him
and gave him a painstaking cinema
kiss. "No, of course I won’t run
out on you, beautiful! You just stay
here and play with your wooden
soldiers and the first thing you know
it’ll be Christmas morning!”
The young man spoke to her in a
low voice. "Hold everything for a
sec’, will you, Kit? I want to get the
two of you together, with your train
and her blanket. Boy, is this a wow
or is this a wow?” He beckoned to
a man with a camera who came
swiftly forward. “All right, Mike;
make it snappy.”
The bride arranged her veil and
settled the little lace cap, and thrust
her arm through Sarah Lynn’s.
"Come along, babe! Well, will you
look who’s here!"
Sarah Lynn glanced up. There
was a soft explosion, • dazzling
flash.
“Slick!” the reporter said glee
fully. "It’s a knockout!”
"Oh!" Sarah Lynn cried out in
panic. "Did he take our picture?
He mustn't! My mother would be—”
“Pon’t you worry! I know how
hit stuff turns out—we might as well
be a coupla Native Belles of Mo
zamee village. Here we are, hon’!”
She shepherded Sarah Lynn to a
car garlanded with white stream
ers. "Californian hotel, Tommy, my
lad, and let >r step!”
The instant they were out of hear
ing the youth flung himself upon
the telephone and shouted a num
ber.
"Hello! Nick? Say, feller, just pin
the ol’ ears back and listen! What a
story! Ready? Gunnar Thorwald,
Norwegian ace, who has just flown
the Atlantic, and who had taken a
vow never to fly a woman in his
ship, set the Hermod down at Fres
no at 2:45 a. m. and unceremoni
ously landed Miss Sarah Dana, of
the famous Danavale colony, ex
clusive suburb”—he drew a reviv
ing breath and went on—“of San
Jose, and I got a picture that’s a
honey—the gal in a formal and a
blanket —blanket, yeah, b-l-a-n-k
--e-t, standing beside Kitty Medill,
Wild Woman of the Air. Hol'vwood's
stunt-flyingest fool and her nth
bridegroom!”
(Continued next week)
Colored News
I wish to express my most
heart-felt thanks to every one for
their kindness and sympathy
shown us in our recent bereavement
in the loss of our father. Also for
the lovely floral offerings,
A. Jones, and Mrs. Floyd. All ex
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I OIOS #4s^^
■ etn " n ' r,d ' "> • Jjj
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1 jb
J. M. CHEVROLET COMPANY
Zebulon, North Carolina
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 25 1938
pressed their joy of the evening.
Mr. and Mrs. Carrie Wright
The Mother’s Club met at the
home of Mr. and Mrs. James
Floyd. Program in charge of Mrs.
S. H. High. After the business re
freshment was served by Mrs. A.
Closed to meet with Mrs. A, A.
Jones Dec. 1.
We are still having Sunday
School at the home of the Supt
Last Sunday two-thirds of mem
bers were” present. We hope to
have all next Sunday.
J. W. Jones is in Duke hospital.
Call to see him when you can.
Mrs. Della Baker is sick at the
home of her son in White Oak
section. Will be glad to see you
coming.
Mr. and Mrs. J. A. Gresham at
tended the funeral of Mr. David
Harris in Stantonburg last Friday.
When we’re late to classes
The teachers fuss ’n’ fume,
But being late to chapel
Is o. k., I presume.
Some students sit in chapel and
wiggle to and fro
And what is said or done there,
they never really know.
Often 1 sit and wonder after they
rise and go,
Why they sat and wasted that
precious hour or so.