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Show THE BULLETIN, BINGHAM. UTAH PATTERNS! and has no seamTT very, very simple J ties to match brimmed sun ' set which every S for summer. Send yoi--r order to; SEWING CIRCLEN Sau ZS0Z Pauper Pattern No. . b Name Address ....,,. Youngster's Set T"NEE deep in June she'll be a ravishing picture in this cun-ningly designed bonnet, pantie and frock with its bright rosy red ap-ple for a pocket! The pinafore frock just ties in place at the sides mm THE NAIM 4 eating ofmgeiiK their juice. Mt tfitamiiujum Oranges in lit to make tut oh Few food supply: easily lost in cm you need ui daily, si yo do i Oranges tlsoi mini A, Bi andG. nd other minta ' Those stamped" &J are the finest & cooperating px tHy i" iuint't'a- - they stay f"W fssj consists lAWEnTISIIW Ten advertising U carried on for a long " of the product advertised becomes if of the household, a trusted and tftaf can be consistently advertised Bn'-"- 11 L 1 nd tt ' 1$U By ARTHUR STRINGER wNu.sew.ct hW Two raffed old Bfnret emerf ed from the shack door and ran about. I THK STORY SO FAR! To keep Nor-land Airways In btulneu, Alaa Blade has aireed to fly a iclentiat named Frayne and hli assistant, star-nel- l, to the wild Anawotto country of northern Canada, where Frayne ezpecti to find the breeding ground ol the tram-pet-ewan. Blade tuipecU Frayne of having other plant than iwan-bontln-bnt be bai paid them enough to enable Slade'i partner, Cruger, to buy a Lock-heed they have been needing. Mean-while, Alan goes with Lynn Morlock, daughter of the local doctor, to give Brit aid treatment to a flyer named 811m Tnmitead, who bai been burt In a light. He learnl that Tnmitead knows about the new plane and about Frayne. While glade If on his way north with Frayne and Karnell, someone holds op Cassldy, night watchman for Norland Airways, and steals the Lockheed. AU Casildy can tell Cruger Is that the thief wore a mask and that be beaded north in the plane. Now Blade and his passengers are flying Into a bead wind, and Frayne has Just complained that they art not mak-ing good time. Now continue with the story. CHAPTER VI "It is very empty country," the wan-hunt- observed. "Fine and empty," said Karnell, who looked up slightly startled by an admonishing elbow dig from his companion. "It'll be better In an hour or two," Slade told them. "We'll be coming out on scrub timber and heavier ridges. Then you'll see your last mine camp, or two along the Ashlbik." He went on for half an hour of silence, conscious of the two heads bent over the chart, the mumble of voices, and the repeated studious . peering through the poised binocu-lars. "Weather's clearing," he cried out, half an hour later, when he lighted blue through the torn wisps of gray. "That means less wind to buck." But a glance at his fuel-gaug- e suddenly lowered his spirits. "We can't make the Anawotto," be announced as he retarded his throttle to conserve fuel. "We'll have to land at Lake Avlkaka and fill up." Slade, pointing to his gauge, could ee Frayne's face tighten a little with annoyance. "What Is at Lake Avlkaka?" ques-tioned his passenger. "Just two old sourdoughs who have a camp there on the fringe of Nowhere." "Sourdoughs? What are they?" "Just two runny old birds who happen to be friends of mine. I keep a gas cache in their back yard." He could hear the two voices con-ferring. It gave him the feeling of being excluded from something that might be of Importance to him. "That's the Kasakana there, Just ahead of us," Slade explained, "the stream that looks like a twisted wire. We'll have about sixty miles of it. Then we'll land Just where It empties into Lake Avikaka." Frayne, tight-lippe- inspected his chart Minty's saddened eye regarded the Instrument. "She's been dead for seven months now. Battery's plumb gone. And thls-her- e freight-charge- s 're so high we Jus' can'l see our way to a new one." Frayne, Slade thought, looked re-lieved. "You are very much alone here," he observed. "You're tellln' me," said Minty. "But we don't reckon that as a drawback," amended Zeke, "seein" the two of us have kind of a hanker-i- n' for elbow room. Only time 1 feel right lonesome is when there's folks around. Then I git a feelin' o beln hemmed In." Frayne's eye wandered to the shelf that held a pestle and mortar, a long-handle- d quartz-roaste- r, a dust-scal- under a cracked canopy of glass, an assortment of variously mineralized rock of all colors and shapes. "How long," he inquired, "have you been here?" "Well over two years now," ac-knowledged Minty. "Have your labors been reward-ed?" was the next casually put ques-tion. Slade could see the two pair oi crafty old eyes suddenly become ex-pressionless. "Not by a long shot," protested Zeke. "I natcheraUy git a little out o' my winter trappin', and this shorthorn mate o' mine brings in enough game meat to keep us go-i- But we ain't had what you'd call a strike." "Reckon we never will," said Minty. "It's been hard goin'," chimed in his bunkhouse mate. "How do you do your mining," asked the man of science, "without power and machinery?" The two old sourdoughs exchanged glances again. "Oh, you'd scarce call it mlnin'," ventured Zeke. "Most we do is "But your friends," said Frayne, "are not my friends." "But come and meet 'em," said Slade, leaping ashore with his moor-ing line. He was halfway up the bank when the two old sourdoughs descended on him. They circled about him and slapped his shoul-ders, shouting with shrill and child-like excitement at the unlooked-fo- r break In their solitude. "How are you, puddle-Jump- er 1 By crlckety, It's Lindyi" Slade knew, even before he felt their hearty handclasps, that he was among friends. They may have looked uncouth in their patched and ragged Macklnaws. But in the crow-foote- d old eyes above the grizzled whiskers he could see open affec-tion. , "Bring me them darnln' needles, son?" questioned Zeke when the body-slappin- g was over. "Sure thing," said Slade, produc-ing a package from his Jacket pock-et "And that oilstone you've been hankering for." Then he lowered his voice. "How's the color been show-ing?" "Swell." said Minty. "We struck a vein that'll make your eyes bug out But keep it under your hat, son." Slade glanced toward his plane. "I've got a couple of visitors for you," he announced. The two old faces promptly hard-ened. "What're they after?" was Minty's quick inquiry. "They're after swans eggs," an-nounced Slade. "Swans' eggs?" said Zeke. "That don't sound natural." "I know it Zeke, but we've got to take their word for it. They're headed for the Anawotto to dig out the breeding ground of the trumpet-er." Zeke, from under his shaggy brows, inspected the strangers. "How'd you know they ain't field scouts?" strip a bit along the back slopes or hawk a speck 0' float gold from the Kasakana sandbars." "Then It's gold alone you are In-terested In?" was the next question. "That's right stranger. And we've been that way for forty-od- d years now," Zeke conceded. "All the way from the old Rio Grande up to the Porcupine," added the dreamy-eye- d Minty, "not omit-tl- n' the Klondike. Now your main interest this young cloud-clipp-tells me, is swans' nests." "My only interest," amended Frayne as he pushed back his chair. "I am an ornithologist" The word seemed to puzzle Minty. "Why, I seen a black-bille- d swan on the lake here three days ago," Zeke announced. "He sure was a beauty." "It is the trumpeter I am In search of," said the ornithologist Zeke scratched his head. "And what'll you do with him when you git him?" "It is my wish to obtain their eggs." said the other, "before they are extinct" Minty got up and crossed to his ore shelf. "Speakin" of eggs," he said, "could you be spottin' the bird laid this one?" His cackle was slightly derisive as he produced an ellipsoid mass of black and burnished material almost as big as an ostrich egg. The luster of the oblate spheroid with the feath-ering of light streaks made it look as if it had been polished by hand. "It looks like tar," Frayne casu-ally observed. "Tar my eye!" croaked Minty as he placed the burnished spheroid on the scarred table end. "You're miss-i- n' it by a mile." "Then what does it happen to be?" inquired the swan-seeke- r. "If you was more of a minin' man," Minty was saying, "you'd know it was pitchblende." Frayne shrugged and let bis wa-vering glance come to rest on the pictured bathing beauties tacked above the wall bunks. "The eggs I am in search of," he finally observed, "are of another color." "But they won't hatch what this'll hatch," averred Zeke, bent over the table end. Frayne, almost reluctantly, let his gaze return to the black spheroid. (TO BE CONTINUED) Slade smiled at the concern on the seamed old face. "I'll bring 'em up," said Slade. Solitude, he had long since learned, always left a bush-work- morosely suspicious of unidentified intruders. He had even known some of those lone-fir- e gold-seeker- s to greet the casual prowler with a flurry of buck-shot Yet he himself was a little puz-zled, when he reached the landing stage, to find that Frayne had de-cided to have his man Karnell re-main in the plane cabin. "You're the captain," said Slade. But his meditative eye passed casu-ally over the gas drums that stood on the spruce rack which made them so easy to roll aboard. And it was always better to be safe than sorry. He was whistling as he climbed into the cabin and busied himself for a minute or two with his instru-ment board. Then, as his two pas-sengers conferred at the water's edge, he quieUy abstracted the mo-tor's breaker assembly and slipped it into his pocket. He felt that it was as well, all things considered, to know that his Snow-Ba- ll Baby was definitely bedded down for the night "You'll like these two old codg-ers," Slade persisted as he followed the reluctant-foote- d Frayne up the shore slope. Frayne, however, remained silent and abstracted as he entered the shack where the smell of frying ba-con mingled with the aroma of three sourdough bread-loave- s Just turned out of their baking pans. He noted the glowing cookstove and the or-derly dish shelves, the spring traps and the shooting irons in the shack corner, the wall bunks with their abraded Hudson Bay blankets, the floor rugs of wolfskin, the home-made table and chairs darkened by time and smoke. Everything bore an air of frontier roughness, of in-genious expediencies in a land of strictly limited resources. But the general result was one of craftily-wo-n comfort of security obtained through toil and persistence. Even the meal the two pre-pared for their guests was an am-ple one. But as the meal was made away with an odd constraint hung over the men seated about the rough ta-ble. "I see you have a radio," Frayne observed as he sipped at his sec-ond cup of coffee. "Who are these these old sour-doughs as you term them?" he asked. "Just two old lone-fir- e prospec-tors who've panned gold and staked claims all the way from Arizona up to the Circle." Slade explained. "With an itch," he added, "to be al-ways pushing out to what seems like , the last frontier. They're pretty good old scouts. You'll like 'em." Frayne's expression failed to con-firm that claim. "For what do they prospect?" he exacted. "Gold, of course," answered Slade. "They won't interfere with your swan-hunting- ." Frayne's side-glan- seemed In search of possible second meanings. Slade looked for some sign of life from the cabin between its shelter-ing rock shoulders. All he saw, as he nosed cautiously down to the lake end, was a gray plume of smoke from the shack chimney. It Impressed him, in the midst of the gloomy ridges furred with stunted timber, as a sort of pennon of valor, flag defying the forces of nature. It was a brave UtUe outpost the flyer repeated as he swung lower. But he could catch no glimpse of either Minty Buckman or Zeke Pratt And it was seldom he found them far from that cockeyed old windlass and hoist of theirs. Then his heart lightened. They must have heard him, after all. For two ragged old figures emerged from the shack door and ran about the rock slope in small circles, waving arms as they went. One figure wore an apron of butch-er's linen which he tore from his shoulders and whirled In the air while the other executed a creaky dance step about him. "Those old wilderness waifs are sure glad to see us," Slade observed as his ship landed and lost headway. Frayne did not share in his ex-citement. ( "We go on to the Anawotto," he suggested, "as soon as you have re-fueled?" Slade, stiff and tired, rose from bis seat "Not on your life. We bunk with these bushwhackers tonight I want hot meal and seven hours of Kathleen Norrisjays; On Weck-En- d Visits Take Food With You Bell Syndlcate-W- NU Features. rlu When you go on a week-en- d visit take along things your host and hostess really need, not ridiculous toys that bore the children, or candy, but essentials such as coffee, split broilers, butter, tinned ham, eggs, bread. By KATHLEEN NORMS go visiting your DON'T in the country year without tak-ing your sugar allowance along. And while you're about it, take other things, too. When a young couple buy a suburban home they are in for a delightful experience. The sun-flood- rooms, the privacy, the garden, the very feeling of owning the ground under their feet and the roof over their heads is wonder-ful; it is a feeling all young persons ought to have. Perhaps the most enjoyable phase of it is the opportunity It offers for hospitality. Bob a,nd Betsey are enchanted by that extra bedroom and bathroom. Betsey puts all sorts of pretty furnishings in, finishes the bathroom with pink soap and pink towels, equips the dressing-tabl- e with a score of pink trifles to match its pink bows. She can't wait for the fun of having Martha and David down, and when they arrive she exultingly announces that Lydia and Sam, Sonya and Phil are coming in for lunch the next day, too. Costly Hospitality. It Is only after two or three week-ends that Bab and Betsey look at the bills, look ruefully at each oth-er, and add up the bills again. The cost of the soft drinks, coffee, but-ter, ice, lemons, ham, soap, laun-dry work, firewood and telephone charges that this happy hospitality represents simply appalls them. They can't keep it up! I YOU'LL BE WELCOME As a week-en- d guest are you always sure of your welcome? If not, then here's a tip that will do much to insure a standing invitation. Don't bur-de- n yourself with a lot of ex-pensive, useless gifts for your host or hostess. Take them something they really need. Instead of some costly knick-knac- k for the children, take them a ham, a split broiler, some coffee or butter some-thing that will cut down ex-penses for your hosts. Remember your own grocery bills! A continuous flow of company isn't conducive to the well-bein- g of your budget. Do unto others . , . ant farmer; I was in heaven, with plenty of fresh air, milk, eggs, fruit for my babies from the first week I wanted to share it with those I loved. When he came home at noon on Saturdays, Jim had marketed for me, and sometimes the list was as long as my arm. "One month that first summer my grocery bill, exclusive of the milk, vegetables, butter, eggs and so on from the farm, was more than one hundred dollars. We had to call a halt. "We all had an honest talk. It was an agonizing talk for Jim and me. We told them all frankly what the trouble was; that an occasional box of candy, swim suits for the chil-dren, guest soaps and guest towels, although welcome and charming gifts, did not pay our bills. A Practical Suggestion. "My husband's brother, a prosper-ous doctor, who adores our farm, and is never so happy as when he But they don t know how to stop it. Sundays are hot in town and their lovely garden isn't very far away. Out come the friends, to sit panting under Bob's trees, to pre-sent the small son and daughter with seven-doll- ar snowy lambs or large complicated games, to hand Betsey a box of rich candy and to feel that these gifts entitle them to about twenty dollars' worth of food, drink, service, rooms and comfort . Everything else has changed this year, and it is for visiting friends to change this, too. " When you go on a week-en- d visit take things the Bobs really need, not ridiculous toys that only bore the children, or candy that gives everyone prickly heat Load up your car with such essen-tials as coffee, split broilers, cases of bottled drinks, pounds of butter, tinned hams, eggs, bread. You'll find a warmer welcome from flushed little Mrs. Bob than you ever got before. This rule obviously doesn't apply to big establishments, where a staff of servants is kept The older per-rons who manage such homes are prepared for the onslaught upon their s. But to any couple of moderate means, living quietly with no help or part-tim- e help, your loaded grocery box will be a bless-ing, and brighten the week-en- d for your hosts as well as yourselves. Inherited a Farm. "For many years," writes an Iowa wife, "my brother and sister, their wife and husband, and from one to five children have been com-ing out to us for every holiday they could seize. We're all country bred and when we Inherited this farm on the death of Jim's grandfather, loud and envious were the shrieks from the rest of the clan. "Immediately we built an outdoor kitchen and dinlng-arbo- r, put ham-mocks on the porches and told the family it was open house. Jim shared the crop profits with the ten-- and Jim and the other men are fell-ing trees, building a dam, gather-ing fruit, working themselves ex-hausted, was first with a practical suggestion. " 'When Minna and I bring the girls out here,' he announced, 'we'll bring food to the amount of three dollars apiece. Any other cuting would cost us that, and this is our favorite outing.' "We protested of course, and we finally did get them to cut it down to two dollars apiece. Since then, and that was dern ye ars ago, when my sister and her husband, or brother my and his wife, bring their boys here, they bring between them eighteen dollars worth of food. This means that all week long I don't pay a cent for groceries, that their coming-alw- ays welcome is, doubly welcome because it means no strain on my budget. On the contrary they caU nie the rich olo boarding! house keeper, and I don't care a bit "Also, I think it gets children 'nto responsible habits. When ours P0 away for a visit they always ask me for jams, fresh eggs. bac0M fruit or butter as a present for their hostess. 'What would they mother? What shall I take" are questions heard as o:t;n as ''Wha can I wear?' Or 'Where's my ten- -' nis racket?' Something to Remember "Now. this year of all years"" this helpful letter continues, "i think th is something to rernember. ber that if your host oa a h0?Xr turns himself into a sort of bar- keeper and is going back with glasses all the time, that Uiat find a case of soft drinks cosUv ft "I" y0Jr be when J. have gone, is forgets! He never Inescapable Fellow citizens, e cape history. We oft, and this administration membered in spite of No personal signifies nificance can spare on of us. The fiery tr.; which we pass will honor or dishonor te generation . . . We save or meanly lose hope of earth. Lincoii HUOUSErlOLD IniNTSffl If your bread is too fresh to slice easily, put it into the refrigerator to get thoroughly cold. e Try cooking meat loaf in muffin tins. It looks better and cooks more quickly. Use the tab in opening and clos-ing slide fasteners. Don't force them. Before washing a "zip" garment close the zipper. Guard it in pressing so the teeth will not be thrown out of alignment. To remove a fresh grease spot on a rug, cover the spot with blot-ting paper, then press with a hot flat-iro- n. Cover the spot with magnesia, let it remain for 24 hours, then brush off. When you want to thicken gravy, put the flour and water into a wide-mouthe- d jar, with a screw top and shake well. |