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Show SALT FLAT NEWS, JULY, 1971 eg; 77U i 93 mm POISONOUS WEED OR HEALTH FOOD? Mrs. Haycock cooks up a pot ofhalogeten stew. Spring greens taste like spinach. QwAm Feeling fit and in no particular hurry, Shirley Haycock and her sons Ray, 13, and Jessee, 11, were sauntering their way across the northern tip of Utah's great salt desert under a blazing summer sun, still nearly nine hundred miles from their Seattle destination. destina-tion. Hiking along the historic transcontinental trans-continental railbed, the Haycocks paused near Promontory Point to discuss their adventure with this P a IS k mm SNAKE FOR SUPPER? Eleven-year-old Jesse Haycock appraises blowsnake, among other incredible edibles in the family diet. NEWS photo by fi Menzin Mmm by R. Menzies reporter over a bowl of halogeten stew. The desert weed was described de-scribed by the outdoorswoman as "delicious" an observation that may be the makings of an edibility ed-ibility gap, since state authorities have named the plant culprit in the poisoning death of 1200 sheep earlier this year. The questionable ques-tionable plant is salty with a flavor fla-vor vaguely like spinach a good sign, according to Mrs. Haycock's college survival instructor Larry One hundred miles due west of Salt Lake City across a panoramic sweep of salt flats lies Wendover, Utah-Nevada, home of the SALT FLAT NEWS. One mile south of Wendover lies the Wendover town dump, presided over by a sixty-five-year-old deputy named Floyd Eaton. Residing in a modest establishment establish-ment constructed of indigenous materials collected from his immediate environs, he is' known fondly to the residents of Wendover as "Deputy Dump." In his colorful career. Deputy Dump has been arrange detector" for a cattlemen's association and man of many parts. Armed with a six-shooter to prevent felonies in the area of the dump, he points with pride to his spotless record since assuming his present position; not a single felony has occurred in his territory, a record unsurpassed by few lawmen in any part of the nation, exceeding even J. Edgar Hoover. In addition to the faultless discharge of his responsibilities, Floyd uses his spare time writing a novel. Admittedly imaginary and creative, it dips liberally into his experiences of the past. The SALT FLAT NEWS has obtained first serial rights to the novel, "Queen of Blood. "By cornering Wehdover's leading novelist (in fact, its only one), the NEWS has achieved a publishing coup ranking with the New York TIMES' publication of the William Manchester book on the Kennedy assassination or the current publication publica-tion of the Kruschev memoirs in LIFE. Don't fail to follow this gripping tale of adventure and suspense in each issue of the SALT FLAT NEWS. FIFTH AND FINAL INSTALLMENT Summoned to Mexico City on business of an urgent nature, El Nino de Puma, seasoned crime fighter and commander-in-chief of the Chihuahua City Branch of the Desert and Mountain Police, Incorporated, is dispatched to seek out and bring to justice the notorious Dorotea Margarita de la Vargas. Miss Vargas, otherwise known as the Queen of Blood, has been waging her own guerilla war for five years against the government, killing soldiers at a hundred army outposts, each time leaving a note for President Diaz reading, "Diaz, your time is drawing near. " Pausing in his search to catch a fish for supper, El Puma luckily lands his airplane in the midst of the Queen's hideout. Taken to the outlaw rancho in the company of sinister bodyguards, El Puma plots to capture his woman. She unwittingly asks El Puma to fly to Mexico City on the morrow. But as we left our hero, he was awakened by the feeling he was not alone, and there beside his bed stood his hostess, The Queen of Blood. or Olsen, whose theory is that anything any-thing that tastes familiar is good for you. But Shirley, whose formal for-mal education is augmented by years of haphazard experimentation experimenta-tion at this sort of thing, has a more liberal test of palatability. "Eat it," she says, "then wait an hour. If you're not sick by then, it's edible." The Haycocks began their journey of a thousand miles in early June, starting out afoot from their home in Spring Glen, Utah. From the old railbed the intrepid in-trepid trio will follow the Oregon Trail into Boise, where they will raft down the Snake River to Lewiston. From there they plan to retrace the trail of Lewis and Clark to Pasco, Washington, and on to Seattle, where they hope to arrive in early August. The long hike over the Wasatch Wa-satch range was through unseasonable unsea-sonable snowstorms and freezing rain; however, the boys kept warm trying to rustle up a rabbit for dinner, and the better part .of one day in a futile attempt to lasso a woodchuck. Supplementing staples of cheese, rice, and flour, the Haycocks Hay-cocks eat native plants they find and whatever wild animals they can catch. The trio has so far sampled sam-pled baked horned lizard, pan bread and stinging nettle soup. Drinking water for the most part is drawn from local sources, boiled, and flavored with powdered pow-dered chocolate. For entertainment, the Haycocks Hay-cocks are reading for the fourth time J.R.R. Tolkien's adventure fantasy The Hobbit and Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. Tolkien's popular, trilogy i The Lord of the IntoU "Be not alarmed, Senor, it's only your hostess," came the sweet feminine reply. "It gets mighty lonesome sleeping alone every night. I crave a little companionship." "What's wrong with your cowboys?" cow-boys?" I asked teasingly. "They're truly good and capable capa-ble men, but Senor, it is unsound judgment to love with one's help. It would only lead to serious trouble trou-ble between them." "Guess you're right," I said, "crawl in and be comfortable as well as useful. I've been dreaming what a wonderful night it would be to have you within my arms." As she nestled beside me, the odor of her perfume was delightfully delight-fully intoxicating. You can bet your last cent there was no more sleeping. We were drinking coffee laced heavily with tequilla the next morning. She appeared with a cheerful bueno dias, looking as fresh as a dew-kissed rose and just as lovely. She was dressed in a light tan traveling suit that showed the magnificent curves of her body as if she'd been poured into it. Yet gazing upon all that outside beauty, on the inside I knew she was the bloodiest woman Mexico had ever known. I was inclined to tell her that I was a cop and had come to arrest her and take her to prison for a term of thirty years or a little more, and tell her she had no business in Sand City, for there was a price on her head of one hundred thou- Rings had to be left behind for the sake of reducing pack weight. The numerous birds of Box Elder County and the quick lizards liz-ards have so far proved to be unwilling un-willing dinner guests; however, as I was leaving a fat blowsnake slithered into camp and was promptly clubbed into oblivion. "Shall we eat him now?" asked Jesse after a critical assessment of the unfortunate reptile. "Might as well," replied mom laconically, "while it's fresh." This reporter, needless to say, had a pressing engagement and had to run. sand pesos. I felt like telling her I'd throw my badge in the lake and she and I could fly to the U. S. or South America, whichever which-ever she'd prefer, and we'd live happily the rest of our days. "I pray Senor Kolt that you slept well." "The best," I said, "in many a night, thank you." I declined breakfast, a meal I seldom ever ate, and all went down to the lake to wish us a Bon Voyage. I taxied the sleek, streamlined craft to the north end of the lake, rechecked the instruments, dropped flaps to thirty degrees, revved up those twins and watched the sprays fly beneath the wings. When the air speed indicator in-dicator said sixty-five mph, I, slowly pulled back on the control; con-trol; in seconds we were airborne. My beautiful little Kewpie doll was on her way to be safely tucked away behind bars. I picked up the mike and said in sing-song Chinese, "XET03902 fromXET03902." "Come in, Skyspy," came the same sing-song reply . Good old Jess was on the ball. He was black outside, but white inside with a heart of gold. He was once a U. S. sailor and learned Chinese while stationed for two years in China. On returning to the states, he'd jumped ship and come into Mexico. Once on a patrol he'd taken a slug in the shoulder that had had my name on it. The guy who fired it now rests beneath a pile of rocks on a lonely mountainside. "Skyspy reporting both missions mis-sions completed, subject aboard, no trouble occurred. I'm returning, re-turning, will arrive approximately 1600 hours. Roll out the red plush welcome mat." "Skyspy from Watchdog, will do just that. Happy flying." The use of Chinese language was so she couldn't understand" what was being said. The joke was on me, however; she understood every word that was spoken. With throttles set at an easy mile eating cruising speed of 250 (Continued on page 10). |