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Show i I THE PROGRESSIVE OPINION ? ? BEEF --rm K$V.'' HAFLOLD CHANNING WIFIE MM W.N.U RELEASE ming. Tom must deliver 3,000 longhorns to the Indian agent by September 1, or lose a profitable contract. Lew has rea-son to believe that the Indian Supply Co. is trying to delay the Cross T herd(' and he suspects that Clay, Steve and river, high and shining in the sun. He grinned and said, "A man's glad to see that old girl somehow." "Glad when he's across her." "Well, sure," he said, "that's right." Men had reason to want this river behind them. No other, ex-cept perhaps the Canadian with its quicksands, farther north, had tak-en so many lives. In a little while he was pointing oat upon the open shelf, as flat as a floor, and he could look far east along its great bend. No other herds swarmed across its grass. Doan's store and the main trail's crossing were ten miles downstream. "We're alone here, John," he said. "That's good."' Behind them the crack of rope ends against leather sounded like pistol shots. Swing men were crowd-ing the longhorns on. But even the cattle had sensed the river and walked at a faster pace of their own accord. His plan had been to cross at once and go into camp on the north side. There would still be time for an aft-ernoon's rest and the night's fun. But riding ahead, he reached the lower bluffs of the south shore and looked down upon an angry, churn-ing stream. The Red was full from bank to bank. There had been heavy rains somewhere west. He swung back and met the point and told Quarternight, "She's up, John. Too high to swim. We'll have to hold over." He shook his head. "I don't like it much. We may get some neighbors we don't want." He waved his swing men up. "No use worrying about that now. I'll ride down to Doan's after we water and see what herds are on the trail." Under the added pressure of swing riders he bent the point west toward a creek. He let the herd LEW BURNET has been TOM engaged by ARNOLD, owner of the Cross T, to act as trail boss on the drive from southern Texas to Ogallala in the spring of 1875. Tom, with his son and daughter, STEVE and JOY, are moving to Wyo-- CHAPTER VII Far off, in what he knew now was south, he picked out the first column of his scattered herd. Two others were separated from it by perhaps three miles. On behind them he found the white tops of the wagons. But as he moved his gaze on slowly around the sharp horizon there was no sign of water nor the double butte to set him on his course. His moment's gratefulness sank to a heavy dread. They had come too far from the last watered camp. The cattle couldn't go on. Another day would bring its killing heat, for clouds that followed a dust storm never held long. He was staring east; he gave his head a sudden jerk to clear it. He wiped one hand across his swollen eyes. They weren't tricking him. As if from the grass roots smoke twisted upward over there. It rose and shaped a pillar, broke and rose and broke again. Willy Nickle . . . sending up his talk! He spurred his tired horse south. Halfway toward the scattered col-umns he drew his gun again and fired it. He pulled his horse around into short fast circles. They heard his shots that time and saw his signal. Little figures of men started out toward him. He rode on and met John Quarternight first. The old man's beard was mud-dy white, his eyes puffed almost closed. "Boy," he said, "we got here. Wherever that be. There's some-one's camp, though, yonder." "Willy Nickle, I think," Lew said. "I'm going to look. I'll leave you to gather up." The creek was still two miles off, and before he reached it the smoke ended. Riding into a little grove of trees, he found only the embers, no sign of Willy Nickle at first, un-til he saw the forked stick. It had been thrust into the ground with one prong like a thumb pointing down-stream. He followed in the stick's direction.' Sheltered from wind and rain, a snug retreat, Willy Nickle sat, con-tentedly smoking his black clay pipe. He threw up his left hand in a silent salute and dropped it. His gentle face was brown and smooth from a recent shave. Lew grinned and shifted over into one stirrup, halting. "Well," he said, "we had a wind." Willy nodded. "So you did." "I guess," Lew said, "we clean missed the double butte. Came too far north maybe. But here's a riv-er." "South branch of the Pease," said Willy. He took the cherry pipe-ste-from his mouth and pointed with it. "If a .man heads out of here quarterin' east of north he'll hit a creek of the Red. He'll follow that to the Red herself, ten miles above Doan's store. Two days, may-be, if his men have made it." "Some," Lew said, "are dust blinded. But they'll come out." His luck was good. They hadn't even lost much time. He grinned again at Willy and waited, hating to leave this old fellow, as he always did, and feeling somehow there were other things that Willy might tell him. But there was no more talk. He could see the heady smoke of kinnikinnick begin to cloud the mild gray eyes. "Well," he said and lifted his hand and turned away, never quite sure he would see old Willy again. In three days they were still crawling through low hills south of the Red. Blindness healed slowly in both animals and men. Three had ridden in the cook's wagon. Clay and Steve rode with Joy. They both had bandages smeared with axle grease over their eyes and sat up with her on the seat. He had a queer feeling sometimes, seeing them in a row like that. When he dropped back along the herd he could see their fun and hear, them laughing together. They sang a lot. Old songs that he used to sing with her. It took him back to Three Little Apaches; only it was Clay's big shape there now instead of his. But today all of his crew were In their saddles, eager to reach the Red. That meant something. It was halfway to Dodge. It was the last of Texas soil. Beyond the Red River lay the Indian Nations and the north. Every trail drive marked it with a celebration of some kind. He rode the point with Quarter-night and could see old Rebel John was feeling what he felt. A man would never feel this lonesomeness about leaving any place up north. He was sure of that;' not a Texas man. There was Tom Arnold rid-ing back behind the horse herd what must this crossing the Red River mean to one like him? It must go hard. He was leaving the biggest part of his life down here, the best part. What was Tom look-ing ahead to in Wyoming? Not much, so far, if he was counting on Steve. That had been his hope at the start. Well, what was he looking ahead to himself? Nothing that he could see. Not the ranch he'd planned there on the Powder when he had thought he was going to build it up alone. You didn't pen two bulls in the same pasture. Get this herd to Ogallala. Beyond that be didn't know. His head bobbed to the slow walk of his horse. He let it nod, peace-fully drowsy, ' until Quarternight's quick voice came across to him. "There she is!" He looked up. The fold between the hills had widened. Beyond its five-mil- e level shelf of mouth lay a grass Far-of- f red bluffs marked the ED SPLANN are working in league with the company. Lew heads west and runs into a furious dust storm that chokes and blinds men and cattle alike. The herd is near death from thirst when the storm ends and a misty rain falls. and he had wondered. Only Jim Hope and ' Tom Arnold ' were on guard with the herd. But he was here in camp now with his horse saddled. His clothes that he had worked and slept in for a week hadn't been changed. "Thought I'd tell you," he stated bluntly, "I'm ridin' down to Doan's. You won't need me till night.'f Lew walked past him and tossed his war bag into the cook's wagon. He turned back and said, "Not this trip," and started on. Splann'S surly growl jerked him around: "What the hell kind of a boss are you?" He walked up close, his high shape coming above Ed Splann'S broader and more powerful build. He could feel the scar burn hot and red. But there were times like this when he let his voice come out of him in a slow drawl. "My friend," he said, "I'll tell you what kind of a boss I am. No man in my outfit fools me any. You don't." He let it hang there, watching Splann weigh it behind his pale eyes. They narrowed coolly. "You think you know something. What?" "You've got no warning coming," he said, his voice still held to that quiet way, "but I'll warn you this much. I'd as leave have a rattle-snake in my bed as a spy and traitor in this camp. You don't need to ride to Doan's; I'll see your friends for you. Is that clear?" A wicked brightness leaped into Splann'S eyes. "You talk tough. You got anything to back it up? Show or lay down, Burnet. I've called your hand!" He didn't underestimate this man. There was the experienced gun fight-er's arrogance about him. He let his muscles go slack and ready and felt only that cool alertness as he said, "Any time." He could almost see the huge right shoulder begin its lift that would bring the gun up out of its holster. His own fingers curved when Splann'S eyes went past his and swung back. A subtle change came over him. He leaned forward a little, confiding, "Burnet, you stay clear. You've got a lot to learn, some things you don't want to know. And you've got a lot to lose." His eyes moved again. Footsteps crackled In the dry leaves, and then Joy called gayly, "Lew! Come and look!" She passed beyond them looking pleased, with something bundled in her arms. She was barelegged and her long hair, washed and dried, was soft around her head. Splann's eyes followed her through the trees. Then they came back with a knowing shrewdness. "You take my advice and you'll get your pay. One thing about you ain't hard to read." He wheeled and led his horse toward the picketed mounts. Joy was up on her bed in the wag-on, sitting crosslegged with both hands covering her lap. "Lew . . . eggs!" She lifted her hands. "Tur-key eggs. I found a nest!" He leaned in to her and turned them with mock gravity. "Real eggs. Think of that." But it was her scrubbed fragrance he was aware of, her soft hair and skin that was warm and glowing. It put a tight quietness in him that was not mockery. Then she laid both of her hands on his. The laughter was gone from her eyes. She looked up soberly. "Lew, I've been sorry about something. Dreadfully sorry. I mean back there when Steve went blind. I wasn't hating you. It was only that every-thing seemed so wrong. I under-stand what you're going through these days. I shouldn't make it any harder." He pulled his hand from under hers. "I've never asked for pity, Joy, not from anyone. Let me pity myself if I want to. We all do that sometimes. But I don't want it from outside." "This isn't pity! Don't you under-stand?" Something turned her lips soft and gentle, parting them with a slow and even breath. Her dark eyes searched his face. "We've meant so much to each other. Nothing must end it. I want you to know that." She stirred him with an irritable violence. "That's past, Joy. We aren't children any more. You've grown up and what I have is not a brother's feeling." "I know it." Her voice was hushed. "Look here!" He put his hands roughly on her arms and pressed them against her sides. He hurt her and wanted to hurt. "You've got one man. What do you think? You can still offer some little part of you to another?" "No. It's only " She faltered. His grip tightened. "Joy, this is nothing you can play with. You'd better not try!" Her breath was quick. He could feel the tremble of her body be-neath his hard hands. He let her go and stepped back. "Anything you want from Doan's store?" She didn't answer but only shook her head, staring at him. He wheeled from4ier, shaken by the vi-olence of the feeling she had aroused. In five miles he reached the bend of the river shelf and saw an un-expected sight beyond. Far on east of the bend a dozen trail herds flood, bound south of the Red made dark blots against the grass. That was the crowd he had missed by takina an unknown route. He could nol judge the number from this dis-tance, anywhere up to forty thou sand, a bare fraction oi the long-norn-pouring noi'th. (TO BE. CONTINUED) He let the herd spread out to drink. spread out there to drink and after-ward left them standing drowsily under a two-ma- n guard. He had seen both wagons pull into a grove of tall box elders close to the riverbank. By the time he rode into camp d Jackson was already starting his special meal, like every good housewife, making his piecrust first, rolling it out with a beer bottle for a pin. Joy was coming from her wagon with a bundle of clean clothes. She laughed up, at him. "I'm going to have a bath!" "Don't use all the hot water!" He grinned ,and rode on to get his own change of clothes from his bed-roll. Others were ahead of him be-low the bluff, their yells coming up like a bunch of schoolboys just turned loose for the summer. That was what reaching the Red could do. "Lew, is this a holiday?" asked Clay. "Part." "Then I'm riding down to Doan's." It was an ordinary-enoug- h re-quest; a man could get a few things at the store. But that was not the reason, he felt, with Clay. He shook his head. "None of the crew's go-ing down there. I don't figure it's safe." Clay's stare sharpened on him. "Kind of aren't you? Maybe you'll find it hard to make that order stick!" He didn't answer. But afterward, standing ankle deep in the water, shaving in front of a mirror propped against a willow fork, he went back to find Clay's meaning. It wasn't clear. If a man deserted against the trail boss' order he might as well quit. Clay wouldn't do that. He continued his shave. The scar made his cheek stiff. He could feel that set hardness even when he smiled. He passed the straight blade of his razor across it, only a white curved line now, but he knew how red it got sometimes. Funny what a thing like that could do. You were a kid and fell under a horse and ever afterward your life was different from what it might have been. He had forgotten about Clay's threat and he felt good, cleaned and dressed once more, walking back into the shady grove of the camp. Then he saw Ed Splann. Splann had not been at the river CLASSIFIED j DEPARTMENT y OFFICE EQUIPMENT !. WE BUT AND SELL ' nfflr Furniture, Files. Typewriters, Add. . iW? Machines. Safes. Cash Registers. SALT LAKE DESK EXCHANGE 10 West Broadway, Salt Lake City, Utah. ;:! Used Cars Trailers Site fajM SEEDS PLANTS Solden Acre Cabbage Plants 100 postpaid ll- 1500 collect S5.25. 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You breathe freer alA p most instantly as just ui 2 drops Penetro Nose Ullii t"W Drops open your cIell nose to give niUn Jt your head cold air. jC&f Caution: Use only as r directed. 25c, 2' times y as much for 50c. Get Penetro Nose Drops y Relief At Last For Your Cough Creomulslon relieves promptly be-cause it goes right to the seat of the trouble to help loosen and expel germ laden phlegm, and aid nature to soothe and heal raw, tender, in--! flamed bronchial mucous mem- -t branes. Tell your druggist to sell you a bottle of Creomulslon with the un- - derstanding you must like the way it quickly allays the cough or you are to have your money back. CREOMULSION (or Coughs, Chest Colds, Bronchitis For relief from the torture of simple Piles. PAZO ointment has been famous for more than thirty years. Here's why: First. PAZO ointment soothes inflamed areas, relieves pain and itching. Second. PAZO ointment lubricates hardened, dried parts helps prevent cracking and soreness. Third. 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He has traveled more than 100,000 miles, entertained more than two million men, on all fronts. The man is terrific; it's no wonder that a psychiatrist who followed him through hospitals in the South Pa-cific reported a 71 per cent improve- ment in the patients' condition. He entertained men everywhere in the front lines, on ships, in canteens. "V L; r-- J JOE E. BROWN His new radio show, on the Blue network, is a quiz show; too bad he's not doing an additional one, so that the public could hear what he told newspaper people. The "vicious circle" that's sup-posed to be show business isn't so vicious for Xavier Cugat, who be-came a movie highlight after re-peatedly starring on the bandstand of the New York Paramount thea-ter. Now that he has a handsome contract with Metro, Cugat has been rewarded with a ten weeks person-al appearance contract, at $12,500 per week at the Paramount thea-ter, where he started to fame! Lauritz Melchior, Metropolitan tenor who scored such a hit clown-ing with Fred Allen on the air, has signed for his first motion picture it's Metro's "Thrill of Romance," featuring Esther Williams, the swimmer. He'll play an opera sing-er. "All the other fellows razzed this chap," said the soldier who'd just come out of Halloran hospitaL "He sat down on the side of my bed and played cards with me and talked, and was swell. I didn't know who he was then. Found out later he was Frank Sinatra." We won't see Rosalind Russell in "Sister Kenny," after all that prep-aration, because it's been indefinite-ly postponed. But it's going to be too bad if she's assigned to "Rough-ly Speaking" instead, because that's a perfect story for Bette Davis. James Cagney has started his personal appearance tour of TJ. S. army and navy bases in the Euro-pean war theater; expects to re-main abroad for three months. He rehearsed six weeks with a dance coach before leaving Hollywood, on a cavalcade of American dancing from George Primrose to Fred Astaire. Shopping for lingerie with his wife, Geoffrey Barnes, he of the ominous voice on "The Mystery Theater," yielded to the temptation to use his radio voice on the ele-vator operator. Barnes says he nev-er had an easier time getting out. Next time you hear Cary Grant in a radio play, picture him acting out all the dialogue as if he were before the camera. When he's out of a scene he walks into the wings, min-gles with the supporting players, and contributes to the sound effects. After finishing the hilarious "The Miracle of Morgan's Creek" Preston Sturges left Paramount; now he's gone into partnership with Howard Hughes, who'll be his financial back-er. That combination should pro-duce some startling pictures! Dimitri Shostakovich's Eighth Symphony will be given its first performance in the Western hemi-sphere over the CBS network on Sunday, April 2, by the New York Philharmonic symphony. Bill Downs brought the symphony back from Moscow. ODDS AND ENDS -- That Flying Fortress named for "We, the People is still blasting away at the Germans While Bob Griffin was recovering 'from a plane crash on CBS s Mary Marlin" he was down with jimglejeuer in "Valiant Lady" . . "The Theater" may move from Hollywood to New York, to present stage players in Us Sunday dramas . . .One-thir-of the principal players m he Robe" will be new to the screen; I re-ducer Frank Boss believes the story fresh laces . . . Jack Benny has 7ected off the Warner Bros, lot, after role in I he completing his starring Horn Blows at Midnight. rehearsal of the Recently, after a Cornelia Otis Skinner-Rolan- d Young part of the Dinah Shore program, somebody started an argument by body made no saying that a falling sond (The script called for drop-ping a sack of sand to simulate a falling body.") Presently everybody was taking a tumble to prove that body made a sound, or (a) a falling Roland Young b that it didn't. fell, and made a noise on toe nukes that sounded like the fall of a knight in armor stumbling through a scrap bunch of keys! drive-- he landed on a Mark Twain on Uses to Which Books May Be Put !j ' A young girl once asked Mark Twain if he liked books for gifts. "Well, that depends," he said. "If a book has a leather cover it is really valuable as a razor strop, If it is a brief, concise work, such as the French write, it is useful ' to put under the short end of a wobbly table. An book with a clasp can't be beat as a missle to hurl at a dog, and a large book like a geography is as good as a piece of tin to nail ovei a broken pane of glass!" ! ; Medals and Decorations ; While a medal is given to every-m- e who has taken part in a mili-ary campaign or war, a decora-do- n is presented for a specific ict of gallantry. This distinction s generally misunderstood several decorations are offi-:ial-called medals. America's highest award, the Uedal of Honor, is really a deco-atio- n. To remove the odor of onions from knife or hands, wash them in cold water. Hot water sets the odor. Two large staples nailed to the end of a porch step will make a handy bootjack for removing heavy rubbers. When making gravy, stir with a slotted spoon. The liquid runs through the slots and does not spill over the stove. Why not keep a game scrap-book-? It is sure to come in handy when the children are shut in on rainy days, or when a party is in the offing. As sewing needles are getting very scarce just get your old needle cushions out and squeeze or press gently. Like magic the needles will appear. A spool screwed to the scrub brush in such a position as to fit 'between the thumb and the index finger will greatly reduce the grip-ping required. If you have some worn out socks ind do not know what to do with ;hem, put them to work in your nop clamp. They will make a ine mop. Effect of Noise studies show hat noise causing only a 5 per :ent decrease in the output of nanual workers will cause a 30 jer cent decrease in the efficiency tf executives. ShcAi a husband fell his Mkl JACK: I'm running out ftr S - of adjectives! ML 1&$r$WjM Swi Those hot biscuits and VTj( WtfMjffl fi'xy preserves for dessert "vta''' were sure somethingl fiilJWv' J iV'ThV SUE: You're worth y2?f .a l&M surprising, often! f t? 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