(black feather
By HAROLD TITUS
C Harold Titus
WNU Service
.
CHAPTER I
two weeks of toilsome travel De
hind, two leagues of gently riffled
water before, the great canoe swung
on to the end of its ms'ch, bearing
1 a lamb to the slaughb ..
That is what Donald Maclver was
to say, when the leagues had been
cut to canoe lengths.
But Rodney Shaw looked like no
shefep, no innocent, as he sat there
with one arm thrown easily over
the mess basket. He looked like no
beaten trader, either, though the
number of packs was small, Indeed,
i He had more the look and bearing
of 4n emperor in his royal barge
despite his youth and apparent pov
erty, Though, of course, emperors
have been young and poor . . .
His eight boatmen sang so in lusty
voices, as they sent the 40-foot
North canoe along. Eight boatmen,
gaily dressed as voyageurs should
be for the rendezvous.
Roaring home, after a year in
land, minds and hearts fixed ahead!
Behind the canoe was the broad
expanse of Lake Michigan’s northern
extremity; against its birch bottom
pattered. the indigo waters of the
narrowing strait and that island,
■. ' Mackinac,. was the great depot of
tiie fur trade, the chief gateway to
.. . the old Northwest and, in this year
jf of 1818, the seat of a monopoly
- which was making aimless wander
ers or mere employees of traders
such as this Rodney Shaw.
Not all Mackinac slept late that
1 June morning. The place was ac
tive. Few .had slept late as had
Donald Maclver, but then ... he
had wintered at Fond du Lac.
For Ramsay Crooks, however,
' there was no rest when others
stirred. He was early at his desk,
across which flowed a record of
that bitter struggle, that hitter
scramble for fur. Conrad Rich, an
elderly clerk, toiled at another desk;
men came and wait, but toward
none did Crooks so much as look.
4 He was preoccupied with what lay
on his desk and what might come
from the westward, yonder; so pre
occupied that when the fight which
began outside with a yelp and a
shout grew until a thousand men
IP were close-pressed about the taat
tle, Crooks gave little heed.
True, he looked closely before the
affray was over, even moved to the
window to stare; none with warm
blood in his veins could have been
wholly immune to such excitement
He watched men, under Maclver’*
direction, start up the hill with a
heavy, limp burden.
s>,
§
Donald Maciver entered, remov
ing hi* beaver hat, wiping his broad
forehead.
Crooks nodded. “A brawl is re
quired to wake the revelers,” he
observed, not ill-humoredly, but still
with a tone ol implied rebuke.
“Brawl! Ramsay, I’d not 've
missed yon fer mooch! 'Twas th’
boatman Roussel, tryin’ his strength
wi’ my own Nadeau Nadeau, ye’ll
ken, carried the’ black feather off
wi’ us last summer. What men!
Nadeau, th’ strongest fighter ’til
now, ’nd Roussel, th’ Untried. Ye
should’ve seen them strain! I’d ’a’
risked mooch on Nadeau Heart ’nd
strength, th’ mon has, but he could
nae compare wi’ Roussel. A horse,
he k, a buffalo of a mon! He left
my poor Nadeau in such condition
I’d sky a copper for his chances.
1 had him lugged tae th’ post sur
geon like ye’d lug a package! Yon
goes Roussel, noo. Wi’ th' black
feather in his own cap!”
“Rodney Shaw will arrive today.”
“Cornin’! You’re informed, then?”
’While you danced. He is come,
Donald,” — nodding impressively—
“and the last challenge to our su
periority in the northern department
is removed!”
Crooks began to pace the floor
•lowly.
“Ay, he’s been a burr, a thorn!
Courageous, audacious, the last of
the Independent traders to yield. It
will be heartening to report this
achievement to Mr. Astor during his
stay with us.” '
"Perhaps he has obsalrved it clos
in’ in on him; one by one the un
attached forts have given up since
congress helped us drive the nor’
westers back into Canada. But this
Shaw!” he shrugged. "A pairsistent
mon! A trader to put shame an all
but th’ one of our coompany. Had
it nae been for Rickman . . . But
Burke Rickman, he’s th’ best mon
we’ve bad to drive oot obstinate
opposition!”
i From outside came thie sound of
wheels and a gig, drawn by a pair
of horses, drove past, a girl alone
on the high seat. J
“Yon goes one that makes a
child of Rickman!”
i; ' “Indeed! Poor Rickman, in An
nette’s toils!” Crooks confronted
Maciver. ' “Mark you, Donald, ’tls
a bad asset, having one like
is, here. For two seasons, now,
unmarried trader young
to bCpfc for her anas#lias
igrmake a record that he
be outstanding in her eyes.”
“And for his pain*, been made to
th’ tairments of th’ domned!
~' - ■ >• usd the ■’ ■
"“But there are duties, Donald,"
Crooks said, sorting papers from
his desk. "The schooner will be
laden by night. The captain will
sail with the first fair wind. Mr.
Astor and I will be gone and you
will be in command and . .
A shrill whoop floated ha from the
beach. A shout A rifle cracked.
A strange canoe was out there, deep
voices of the singing oarsmen
sounding up the wind.
Bodney Shaw stared at the color
ful spectacle before him. Lodge and
tent and dwelling; craftsman's yard
and shop and the high-perched,
white-walled fort itself emptied to
Join the welcome.
Mackinac welcomed this arrival
as it had welcomed many another.
Oars were boated now and voy
He Found Bio Balance There and
Charged, Head Down.
ageura, waist deep in water, shoved
the canoe gently into the shallows,
.guarding its tender birch bottom
•from boulders.
Old Basile put down the steer
ing oar with its carven / blade,
stepped over the side and bowed a
long back for his trader. Shaw low
ered himself to the firm shoulders
and, his calves clasped by Basile’s
wiry hands, was borne ashore, his
well-rubbed boots thus kept dry.
The crowd pressed closely about,
but one was making his way
through it now impatiently, cursing
hoarsely. This was Roussel, with
’ the black feather, insignia of invin
cibility, thrust into the knot of the
yellow kerchief which covered his
shaggy head.
“Make way!” he shouted. “Make
aside for the black feather! But
what a strange brigade is this?”
His great hands grasped shoul
ders, his stout elbows prodded ribs.
Basile was directing the placing of
packages, his eyes and attention all
for that labor. He did not see Rous
sel because his back was toward I
the man; if he heard the fellow’s
orders he gave no heed. So the
hand on his arm spun him about
roughly.
“Does one shout in your ear, old
man?” Roussel demanded. “Did
you not hear the voice of the black
feather commanding you to stand
aside?”
Basile struggled to release the
arm. He put up his other hand in
a gesture of protest, but for the in
flamed eyes of the bully it was a
move of resistance, a challenge to
superiority. The hand was struck
aside, a fist crushed into Basile’s
chest and he went down.
“Hold!” This was Shaw, striding
forward. “Hold, you!"
But Roussel would not hold. , He
stopped, great hands clutching to
seize upon and break Basile’s body.
Shaw rushed.
He grappled for Roiissel adeptly.
One foot set itself quickly behind
the boatman’s, his hands clamped
the man’s body at the gay sash and
with a twist and a shove, the bully
went reeling backward, roaring,
against the press of the crowd.
He found his balance there and
charged, head down. But a hand on
his neck deflected him, a swooping
foot tripped him. He stumbled and
would have fallen but for the quick
arms which seized him and lifted
him and turned him over as he
writhed and raised him high and
let him drop his length on the shin
gle.
His heels were grasped by angry
hands; his back scrubbed through
loose gravel as he was jerked to the
water’s edge. One foot was dropped,
a wrist caught up instead; he was
swung once, twice, thrice in widen
ing arcs. He was let go and fell
with a cry and a splash into knee
deep water under the bow of the
unloading canoe.
Then Rodney Shaw turned, the
rage' already dying in his gray eyes.
He brushed his palms together
briskly as though to free them from
the dust of an empty honor . . .
Briskly, at first, and then the move
ments slowed until he stood there,
hands half extended and motionless,
staring up at her.
She sat on the high seat of her
two-wheeled vehicle, looking at him
across the heads of the murmuring
crowd. Her horses pawed, but she
held them with firm rein, body
swaying a bit as their restlessness
moved the gig. She smiled I Fire, in
that smile, incitement and challenge
and defiance, because Shaw had
opened his mouth as if to speak, as
though to let an amazed, incredu
lous ejaculation be jolted between
his lips.
A voice, then, said to him:
“I am Ramsay Crooks!’’
Shaw came back to controlled fac
ulties slowly, a bit bewildered, per
haps somewhat abashed. A man
looked twice at Ramsay Crooks. As
tor’s liege man, dominant figure in
the trade of the Northwest
“I am Shaw,’’ he repUed slngply,
~ Croofci'stSpped.* He picked from
the gravel at his feet a black os
trich plume, the one knocked from
Roussel’s cap. He extended it with
a gracious and graceful gesture.
“Yours!” he said and smiled.
A stir behind Crooks distracted
Shaw’s steady gaze. The tandem
team was moving away. The head
of the driver turned ever so slightly
and the pert chin lifted in tantaliz
ing challenge.
Shaw took the black feather ab
sently.
Night, with logs blazing on the
hearth, because the strait winds aye
cold, even in June. They sat be
fore the pilastered fireplace in the
high ceilinged room. Rodney Shaw,
independent trader, and John Jacob
Astor, who ruled a territory that
was to be the heart of a nation.
Ramsay Crooks was there, as well,
but in the background.
A German baker’s boy who had
become the richest American
through his handling of fur, was
Astor; fur and tea and ships and
land, but always fur.
There had been no talk of the er
rand which brought Shaw hither un
til after the meal, and then not
until pipes had followed the gorg
ing.
As Mr. Astor talked in his broken
English, Ramsay Crooks listened
closely and toyed with a rosette of
gay ribbons.
“So,” said Astor with a shrug.
“Das ist vat Crooks asked you to
come here. Jal”
Shaw had scarcely moved since
Astor began.
“And that is what I came to
hear,” he said quietly, and yet the
words carried a ring of excitement
“That is what I expected to hear;
your proposal, Mr. Astor, is that I
surrender my independence. The
offer to come and trade at your ac
count and risk is scent to the bait.”
Astor nodded casually but perhaps
in his eyes was a glint of something
not casual.
“I came to hear this; I came all
this way, the length of Lake Michi
gan, sir”—voice mounting and
trembling ever so slightly—“to say
to you, No! To say No a thousand
times! I came all this way, sir, to
say that you may rob me, badger
me, persecute me, but I am not to
be driven out That Mr. Astor, is
what I came to say.”
But now Astor's short stocky
body bent forward a bit and his
harsh, strong mouth loosened some
what as with incredulity.
"Was? . . . You coomt . . . you
coomt”—lifting a plump hand—
“yust to say No to me?* His-brows *
were gathered close, puzzled rather
than angered.
“Ay! And ten thousand times,
No!”
A slow flush had crept into As
tor’s face and he, gripped his chair
arms.
“You fink dot’s smard? You t’ink
dot’s good sense? You t’ink when
all iss amalgamation a young man
shows sense to—”
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Aztecs of 400 Years Ago Knew Much of
Insects, Including Black Widow Spider
The average Aztec of four cen
turies ago knew more about insects
than the average city-dweller today,
says Dr. C. H. Curran, associate
curator of insect life of the Ameri
can Museum of Natural History.
Proof of the Aztecs’ lively interest
in natural history, writes Dr. Cur
ran, is handed down to us ‘chiefly
by the Spanish writer Sahagun. His
diligent pursuit of information on
the subject is evidence that a defi
nite interest in insects and their
ways existed before the present era
of systematic science.
The black widow spider of the Az
tecs was the same as that which has
attracted so much attention in the
United States during the last few
years. The Aztecs did not look upon
it as deadly, but they did consider
it poisonous. Sahagun wrote of this
spider: “There are some poisonous
spiders in this country, they are
black and have a reddish tall. The
stings cause great fatigue for three
or four days, although they do not
kill with their stings.”
This is as true today as it was at
the time of the Spanish conquest.
The bite may prove to be of little
or no consequence, it may result in
serious illness for a few days, or it
may prove fatal if inflicted on a
sensitive part of the body. The
virulence of the bite depends upon
its location, the condition of the
spider at the time of the bite, the
amount of venom injected and the
health of the individual.
The Aztec treatment for the bite
of the black widow consisted of the
application of a compress soaked in
an alkaline solution in a container
of water. It is noted that at the
present time the bites and stings of
insects are treated by keeping them
moist with an alkaline solution, such
as baking soda. Aside from com
plete rest, which the Aztecs seem
to have recognized as beneficial in
the case of black widow spider bite,
the treatment recommended today
provides the intravenous injection
(in solution) of the drug known as
Epsom salts.
. BLACK
I
Humorous
TIT FOB TAT
The two men had been partners
In business for more then fifty years.
But now the partnership was about
to be dissolved, for one of the two
lay dying.
The sufferer called his friend to
his bedside'
“I know I haven’t much longer to
live, old man,” he said. “Before I
go I’ve got a confession I must make.
During our years of partnership I’ve
swindled you out of thousands of
pounds. Can you forgive me?”
“That’s all right," said the other
cheerfully. “Don’t you worry about
it, I poisoned you.”
He Hit Him
Lawyer—Then you admit that you
struck the plaintiff with malice
aforethought?
Defendant (indignantly) — You
can’t mix me up like that. I’ve told
you twice I hit him with a brick and
on purpose. There’s wasn’t no mal
lets or nothin’ of the kind about it—
Just a plain brick like any gentleman
would use.
Jam for Nothing
A Scotsman was observed by a
constable walking up and down a
busy London street with a large
piece of bread in his hand.
“What are you doing with that
bread?” asked the policeman curi
ously.
“Well,” replied the Scot, “I’m
looking for the traffic jam.”
Heard in Court
Magistrate — What is the man
charged with?
Constable—He is a camera fiend
of the worst kind, sir.
Magistrate—But he shouldn’t have
been arrested just because he has
a mania for taking pictures.
Constable—It isn’t that, sir—he
takes the cameras!
ONE THAT DON’T COUNT
“Today I can feel the spring vi
brating through every nerve!”
“Well, that one on your side is
all out of whack.”
And the Broom
"You say you cannot get along
with your husband. People must
learn to bear and forbear. Did you
ever try heaping coals of fire on his
head?”
“No, I don’t know as I ever did.
But I’ve tried hot water.”
Not s Dull Sport
A man in an insane asylum sat
fishing over a flower-bed. A visitor
wishing to be friendly walked up and
said, “How many, have you caught
today?”
“You’re the ninth,” replied the
fisherman.
Eavesdropper! v
(Jncle George—So this is the baby,
eh! I used to look just like him at
that age. What’s he crying abput
now?
Little Niece—Oh, Uncle George, he
heard what you said.—Washington
Post
Any or All
Shopper—I wish to buy a fashion
able hat
Clerk—Yes, madam, we have it
Will you have it funny-looking at the
back, front sides, top or all over?
TINNED OB CANNED
"Let me read you this article on
milk.”
“You may, if it’s condensed.’*
Soper-Clever
Madge—My husband is a clever
man, to say the least.
Marge—Your husband would have
to be more than clever, darling, to
say no more than that.
Proof
"L heard a new one the other day;
I wonder if I’ve told it to you?”
“Is it funny?”
"Yes.”
“Then I haven’t”
_e__
The Swimming Caa Watt
Dora—So he’s teaching you to
swim? How much have you learned
so far?
Cora—That he’s twenty-one, single,
and has a good job.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAU
WHO'S NEWS
THIS WEEK...
By Lemuel F. Pert on
Foe of Demoniac Faroe*.
NEW FORK. — Anstole France
concluded hla “Revolt of the
Angels” with the observation that
man’s only hope lay in “The Con
quest of the Demons of Anger anf
Fear in His Own Soul.’’ The quota
tion may be a hit awry, since the
book is not at hand, but it is perti
nent to today’s news of the expedi
tion to the arctic in the interest of
demonslaying—the first of its kind,
barring Siegfried’s hunting trip in
the land of the ice queen.
The above allusion suggests no
over-simplification of the purposes
of Dr. George W. Crile, famous sur
geon and bio-chemist, who is head
ing a voyage to the Arctic. Specifi
cally, he fights the demoniac forces
of anger and fear which now range
the world and which any newspaper
reader can recognize on sight At
seventy-three, he hopes to find in
the Far North knowledge which will
strengthen his arm and temper his
sword, supplementing knowledge
which he previously gleaned in the
African jungles.
Seals and walruses, neither of
them particularly angry or scared,
will he studied by Dr. Crile—-not as
examples of dignity and complac
ency, but as the owners and pro
prietors of certain unique energy
releasing mechanisms that seem
to work better than the human
carburetor, the suprarenal gland
system. Dr. Crile has dissected and
studied about 800 Jungle animals in
the interest of civilized human be
havior, and now, to piece out his
mosaic-of life energy, he goes North
—not to the ant but the sea lion.
These researches have enabled
him in certain instances to cure
chronic anger and fear. He finds
that in this day of newspapers,
radio and press agents there are
high-voltage stimuli loose every
where which make high blood-pres
sure the curse of the age. The
name "John L. Lewis’* will make
one citizen apoplectic, while "Tom
Girdler” will induce a similar em
bolism in another.
For aggravated cases of this kind.
Dr. Crile has a simple “Denerva
tion” operation, in which he throt
tles down the too rampant adrenal
glands. Judging from the past, he
could operate on the opposed prin
stpsls in a-labor dispute and~have
them falling over each otter to sign
an agreement.
A resident of Cleveland, he is the
founder and head of the Cleveland
Clinic, which is carrying through
profound studies of the adrenal and
thyroid glands, and of bodily me
tabolisms generally. His researches
in the world war vastly widened
and deepened the knowledge at the
mechanized functioning of the en
docrine glands.
These discoveries led him to de
scribe the human body as an auto
mobile, in which the brain is the
battery, the suprarenal gland sys
tem the carburetor, the liver the
gasoline tank, the muscles the mo
tor, and the thyroid gland the gear
box.
In Africa, Dr. Crile shot and dis
sected hundreds of animals, from
the smallest up to lions and rhino
cerosi. He finds that lions have a
sympathetic gland reinforcing sys
tem which enables the adrenals to
deal action hormones with a tre
mendous kick. That’s what makes
the lion such a good self-starter
and the sure winner of any jungle
track meet. Lions, tigers and fero
cious lone workers in general have
this hair-trigger starter.
Herding animals have a less sen
sitive starting and stimulating
mechanism. Less complex, cold
blooded creatures, like crocodiles,
with special defensive armament,
have an even slower takeoff, but
Dr. Crile’s main point is that they
all have an ignition system which
perfectly serves their survival
needs.
As Dr. Crile sees it, the malad
justment or malfunctioning of our
energy apparatus releases ungov
erned emotions, precipitated in body
poisons, and helps put the world
even more out of plumb than it na
turally seems to be. An artificially
changed environment—with all the
new problems of urban living and
an unstable and complex economy
—makes people keep on getting
mad about things which they can’t
possibly affect or control, unlike the
animals, and renders latterday man
a signal failure in the main business
of life, which is "continuous adap
tation."
At home in the wider generalisa
tions of his subject, Dr. Crile sees
here the collective elements of so
cial instability—Fuehrers, mobs,
demagogs, kluxers, measlr1*
mongers, and inflammatory
provocative inciters of world
thinks a gen
scientific ha
lussioiy too
Prize Applique
With Much
Household Hell
Pattern 1458
Here’s simplicity in
in this gay applique quilt,
mother’s Prize—they’re i
patches to apply! If it’s
you’re looking for, make i
choice. There’s the fun HH
so many different mat
pleasure of owning so
quilt that fits into any
And if it’s just a pillow you '
the 8 inch block makes an i
tive one. Pattern 1458
complete, simple
cutting, sewing and
gether with yardage chart,'
gram of quilt to help arrange"
blocks for single and double
size.
Send 15 cents in stamps or i
(coins preferred) for this
to The Sewing Circle Ne
Dept., 82 Eighth Ave., New
N. Y.
Do you know the proper 1
say when you sit on a wad of <
ing gum?
If your, suit is washable, i
the correct command—if you i
to get rid of the chewing i
not your garment:
“Bring me an egg white,
soap and some lukewarm
Then stand back and
soften the gum with the i
—so! And finally wash it <
ly away with the soapy
If your suit isn’t
fabric-saving element is
tetra-chloride, which will
aU traeee-of stafan * ;
The authority for these potaftH
chewing .gum etiquette is a
booklet called “Handy
Homemakers,” which has
prepared by a group of
economics authorities. This!
let is a convenient, compact 1_
book of practical remedies for t
most common household j
It is divided into four
laundering (which includes i
stain-removal formulae, but
detailed advice on the proper |
to wash various fabrics);
lighting; heating, and
The writers of the “Handy ]
for Homemakers” booklet
confined the chapter on'
to an informative
meat-selection rules,
for improving actual cooking tech*
nique and a summary of the merits
and problems of home canning.
A copy of the “Handy Helps for
Homemakers” book can be secured
by sending 5 cents to cover postage
and handling to Miss Boyd, 210 S.
Desplaines St., Chicago, 111.—Adv.
Reading a Book
Many times the reading of a
book has made the fortune of a
man—has decided his way in life.
—Emerson.
v STAMPS
Sfn HOTEL V
*".m mm
CLASSIF
DEPARTM