The Exeter Times-Advocate, 1932-04-21, Page 6THVliSUAV, Al’Jtll. 21, 10S8 THE EXETER TIMES-ADVOCATE
| “The Silver Hawk”|
BY WIULIAM BYRON MOWFRY
SYNOPSIS
Jernes Dorn, aerial map maker, as
signed to a territory in the north
ern Canadian Rockies lives alone
in his camp on Titan Island.
Kansas Eby, his friend for the
past six years was stationed at
* Eagle Nest, two hundred miles
east, Kansas came over one
* night to a dance that the Indians
were having on the station
* platform. When the midnight
train pulled in he seen a girl
come out and glance hurriedly
' around and then disappear into
' the darkness. Kansas followed
; hurriedly but failed to find any
< trace of her. He told his friend
' Dorn about it and the same night
} Pere Bergelot, a trusty metis ar-
i rived with the girl.
The girl, Aurore McNain, asks
■ Dorn to go to a lonely lake in
search of her father and she wish
es to accompany him where she
remains in hiding and Dorn car
ries supplies to her by aeroplane.
Carter-Snowdon arrives, and with
the help of some ’breeds is trying
to locate her.
On account of the danger and
mystery surrounding her he has
promised not to see her any more.
That day Carter-Snowdon located
Aurore and demanded that she
leave with hint for Quesual Lodge.; ed eyes fixed on the nose
throttle wider and shot ahead. For
three long weeks he had battled
against Carter-Snowdon, and that
battle now had sharpened down to
the work of the next five minutes,
and he wanted it over with,
Half a mile in the load he made
a neat hair-pin turn and swinging
back, launched himself head-on,
full throttle, straight as a levelled
arrow at the heavy craft.
At better than two hundred miles
an hour the two planes rushed at
one another, Quillan cam'e on, ex
pecting Dorn every instant to veer
aside. But down the airy straight-,
away, aiming his swift plane square
ly at the other machine, Dorn came
roaring like a bolt of death.
As the interval shrank to four
hundred yards Kansas Eby stiffen
ed and clutched the edges of the
compartment, watching with bated
breath that stark test of courage
between the two pilots. Though he
himself knew Dorn’s purpose, though
he knew Dorn was one of the best
flyers he had ever seen in air, yet
the sickening thought of those two
planes crashing head-on together
jarred even liis callous nerve; and
as the interval dwindled—three
hundred yards, two hundred, one
hundred and fifty—his face went
white and he closed his eyes.
Dorn sat rigid, tense, his narrow-
of that
biplane he was hurtling toward. His
fingers tightened upon the stick
like iron bars. He knew what would
happen, if Quillan broke. The enemy
craft, slow and heavy, could not lift
up quickly. Quillan would dive—if
he broke.
If he did not, if lie had the red-
blooded courage to come straight
on, then Dorn himself would be forc
ed to zoom up, and his whole strat
egy would become merely a spectac
ular, empty bluff; and thereafter
Quillan, plucking up liis nerve again
would disregard him and fly on be
yond his reach to one of Carter-
Snowdon’s.. camps.
The first test of courage was all-
vital. One tiny fraction .of a sec
ond, that last split-second before a
crash became inevitable—on that
last instant hung the issue of the
whole battle against CarteiMSnow-
don.
Coolly estimating distance, speed,
the zooming power of his plane
Dorn stiffened into readiness. The
last instant came. But at the same
moment that Dorn’s arm started to
CHAPTER XXXII
Aurore was sitting in one of the
frear seats, committed to the custody
‘of that alley-wolf, Soft-Shoe. Sihei
too was looking across at the Silver!
Hawk. When she recognized Dorn
she raised her arms in some gesture
he did not fully understand—a ges
ture like an inarticulate cry .of pray
er; and the thought flashed across
Dorn’s mind that she was pleading
with him, if he could not save her,
to send that biplane crashing down
upon a mountain slope.
In those few seconds that Dorn
looked at Aurore he saw that--her
wrists were bound together. And he
saw another thing that roused all
the flaming anger in his being. The
three men each wore a pack-chute
so that in case of accident their
lives would be safe. But Aurore
wore none. Not one of those val
iant gentlemen had had the man
hood, the faint chivalry enough to
risk his neck and buckle his pack
chute on a girl-prisoner.
Carter-Snowdon suddenly jerked
up his automatic "and emptied it. He
anight as well have been shooting at
a swift arrow. Dorn and Kansas
laughed in his face—a derisive
laugh like the snarling of two intent
wolves who were quite sure of their
kill and in no hurrv.
With cold-blooded deliberateness,
Kansas reloaded the machine in
plain view, reached an extra drum
of cartridges from the fuselage
cubby and nodded to Dorn he was
ready.
Catching Quillan’s attention, Dorn
ordered him with an imerative, curt
gesture to swing the plane around
and get back where he had come
from—back to Aurore’s lake.
Quillan turned a white face to
Carter-Snowdon. Dorn knew what
passed between them; understood it
as clearly as though he had heard.
Quillan begged to wheel about and
fly back- before annihilation hit
them like an avalanche. That stac
cato-barking Lewis was tiled at a
business-like- angle; he could see
the gaping bullet holes in the Silver
Ha'frk—battle wounds attesting the
one victory; he had no heart for an
argument with the two grim.visaged
men who had already shot “Ace”
McGregory and Clint Novak out of
the air. In his mind they were an
Unholy twain, with some superlative
trick up their sleeve, and to defy
them was sheer suicide.
■But Carter-Snowdon was not so
easily stampeded. He* knew, as
Quillan did not, that Dorn, would
never jeopardize Aurore; and he
kept jerking a thumb back at her
and shouting that she was their pro
tection, she was their guard.
What he said was truth; Dorn
would never imperil Aurore; but
Harry Quillan was a man in fear
of his life, and all his cold logic in
the world could not entirely con-
him that everything was safe and
lovely. To him those snarling de
vils looked like Nemesis and his
sole thought was to' swing back to
that lake and got out of this trouble
while he was still alive.
Carter-Snowdon argued and com
manded, and after a minute of wav
ering Quillan reluctantly nodded,
and the biplane flew on.
The test of Dorn’s plan had come.
He knew beforehand he would win;
he had seen that little tableau in the
cockpit, he Rad taken the measure
of his man, he knew ho could throw
Quillan Into an abject funk and
shoot his nerve and terrorise him to
the point where Carter-Snowden’s
orders would go unheeded.
With no more ado he opened the
jerk back the stick and lift liis
plane over the enemy, Quillan sud
denly broke. At seventy yards the
nose of that biplane tilted, the ma
chine dived out of annihilation's
path; and thundering on down the
straightaway, Dorn roared over his
enemy, triumphant in courage, the
master now!
Giving Quillan no chance to recover his shattered nerve, Dorn|
wheeled on vertical wing and shot
down at him again in a steep dia
gonal. This time Quillan broke
and dived while the planes were yet
two hundred yards apart. Again and
again, stabbing at him from eweiw
direction, missing him by only a rod
or two, Dorn swooped and struck
like a king bird throwing a lumber
ing crow into panic-stricken flight.
• In those brief glances each time
he swept past, Dorn saw what was
happening in the enemy cockpit.
Frantically trying to dodge the Sil
ver Hawk, pleading at* the same
time pleading with Carter-Snowdon,
Quillan seemed to be crying in a
frenzy:
“He’s going to crash us! He’s
crazy, he’s gone crazy mad! That
devil—my God, he’ll kill us!”
A last superlative thrust, when the
wind of the Silver Hawk’s rush wob
bled the very wings of the biplane!—
and Quillan, suddenly wheeling liis
craft around, with Dorn riding his
tail, driving him, herding him,
back toward Aurore’s lake—a man
broken . . . mastered . . .
The fight had drifted more than
ten miles down country. On that
return trip to Goat Mesa. Dorn rode
Quillan hard, keeping his wliiphand
of terror. Aurore hair whipping in
the slipstream. Her jacket was
torn and muddied; a nosegay of
of one in twenty; the biplane rose to
it; Quillan was handling the con
trols perfectly in face of a stiff
wind sweeping over the mountain
meadow, in three minutes more he
would have cleared the tree-line
pines and skimmed over the mesa
and taken his craft safely to haven
down in Aurore’s lake. But even
as he had broken in the face of
Dorn’s threat, so he broke now In
the' face of another, and precipitat
ed the final, crushing tragedy,
All the way back to the mesa Car-
ter-!Snowdon had argued, shouted,
commanded, furiously trying to
make him turn the biplane and dis
regard Dorn and fly on south. And
now, with that niesa almost under
keel, Carter-Snowdon must have-re
alized that if the ship ever skimmed
over it and dropped down inside that
mountain amphitheatre, his fight
was utterly lost. For he drew his
automatic again and pressed it,
against Quillan’s heart and shouted
an order at the pilot.
Quillan’s hands spasmodically
jerked above’his head, and he cring
ed in fear of liis life. His plane,
out of control, hit an air bump and
wobbled and threatened to go into
a fatal tail-spin. Carter-Snowdon
lowered his weapon—for a few sec
onds—till Quillan had grabbed the
stick and speeded the engine and
brought the machine out of its stall.
Then, again, CarteiMSnowdon
thrust the revolver against and
and Dorn fairly read his shout:
“You turn this plane around, you
go where I tell you to go, or by God
I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you.” ?
Watching, unable to stir a hand
and stop that ^ tragedy, Dorn saw
Quillan half rise, take one glance
over the edge, grab the rip-cord of
his pack-chute, and fling himself
bodily out of the cockpit.
For a moment of stunned horror
Dorn could not think or act. He saw
the biplane tilt, wobble crazily,
right itself magnficently and fly on.
Caw Carter-Snowdon lurch into the
pilot’s seat and start fumbling dis
astrously with the controls. (Saw the
plane start to buckle and stagger .
After those few dazed moments
a lightning plan volted into Dorirs
mind. If Kansas could only get
down into the cockpit of that bi
plane, he could knock C'arter-Snow-
don aside and pilot the craft to safe
ty. But to get Kansas into that
plane . . .
Shooting the Silver Hawk ahead,’
Dorn caught up with the heavy ma
chine and hovered a few. feet above
it. He jerked his head around at
Kansas, to shout, to gsture. But no
need of that . . . Kansas already
was overboard, clambering down to
a pontoon, waiting his chance, val_
ant tO' attempt that suicidal leap to
the biplane, willing to risk being
swept off or mangled by the propel
ler; courageous to gamble his life
against the faint hope of getting
down into that cockpit and piloting
the ship to a landing.
But the chance was never given
him.
In hs frantic, ignorant fumbling
at the controls, Carter-Snowdon had
laid hold of the stick and pushed it
forward. The nose of the biplane
tilted down in response; and before
Kansas could leap, the machine haG
dived beyond his reach . . . beyond
all hope of being saved.
Appalled, watching in the dreaa
despair of helplessness, Dorn saw it
lurch toward the fiery-colored mesa
It careened into the tops of three
Slender pines and shattered its pro
peller and ploughed on tnrougli and
hit the level tableland a hundred
yards beyond smashing its pontoons,
snapping a wing, and bounded into
the air again from the force of its
shivering impact, and then crashed
head-on against a boulder .piling up
in crushed and spintered wreckage.
CHAPTER XXXIII
The Flaming Mesa
Even While the biplane was tear
ing through those- pine-tops, Dorn
had foreseen the envitable crash. At
the same instant that tjie heavy ma
chine hit the mesa and piled up
against the boulder, he gave the
Silver.Hawk the gun; and .with one
swift, anguished glance at the' wreck
lathered for her when they went. beneath him, he sent his plane
Looking-; climbing in thundering spirals above
L L— "
primulas—flowers which Dorn had
8’
ashore in the Bighorn’s i
Glass—’Were bedraggled on lie-r'the mountain nieadow—climbing to
pack-chute height.
In that handful of seconds while
breast. Dorn motioned Soft-Shoe to
cut tlie leather strap from her
wrists, but th® detective did not un
derstand, and before he could repeat
the order, Dorn's attention was
drawn to the cockpit, to Quillan and
Carter-Snowdon,
Quillan was flying mechanically,
with telltale jerky motions of the
controls, and hs face was white aiid
contorted with fear; but he handled
the sturdy craft expertly enough
and he was going back faster than
he had come. A thousand yards
from the mesa he began climbing,
tor in the manoeuvring he had lost
altitude and dropped below the leve-l
of the pass, It was a gentle climb
; the Silver Hawk was roaring aloft,
'Dorn clung with blind, stubborn
faith to tliO conviction that Auroro
might still be alive and that he
might save her by a pack-chute
jump; and he shut his mind against
eVen the possibility of her being
killed. That Aurore McNain could
be lying dead there below him in
that wreckage was a thing too ghast
ly and cataclysmic to be true-—like
the noonday sun turning'.black and
cold and all light going out of the
world.
And as the human heart will,
I Dorn snatched at flimsy reasons to
bolster up his faith. Those- pine-
tops had checked the headlong rush
of the biplane; its first crash had
been a slant blow; its pontoons and
its rebound into the air had soften
ed its final crack-up. His glance
told him that the body of th® ma
chine was not terribly crushed.
There was no hope on earth for
Carter-Snowdon, caught in the front
seat where the heavy engine lunged
back and splintered the cockpit in
to tangled metal and matchstick
wood; but Aurora and the- detective
were in the rear seats, back at the
third bay. Though the plane had
tinned upside down and the debris
of a wing hid his view of it, the
fuselage did not s&em to be telescop
ed,
Dorn was thinking now of fire—-
almost the inevitable aftermath of
a crash like this; of a gasoline fire
blazing up in that wreckage; of
Aurora liellessly pinioned there—
doubly helpless with her arms
bound; of a gas tank exploding,
wrapping that shattered plane in
smoke and flame; and the grim
picture of it checked him in his
swift spiralling when he was only
three hundred feet aloft, and made
him decide to jump from that per
ilously scant height.
He jerked around to Kansas, Fully
alive to the harrowing danger of
fire and the need of quick action—-
of a pack-chute jump—'Kansas him
self was preparing to leap; but
Dorn stopped him, gestured at him;
to change places; and Kansas nod
ded, for he knew that Dorn’s own
bands must tear that wreckage apart
and bring Aurore McNain out of it
if she were alive,
When the Silver Hawk flew on
level wing, Kansas crawled forward,
wedged himself into the cockpit and
grabbed the controls, as Dorn let
go and clambered out upon the fus
elage.
Knowing that a three hundred-foot
jump in that wind might be fatal
to his partner, Kansas- whirled the
plane out over the lake, with no
attention to Dorn’s pleading shouts,
and thundered back over again four
hundred, feet higher, to be safe.
His hand on the rip-cord, Dorn
leaped. For a second or two he
whizzed downward and the mesa
seemed rushing up to meet him.
Then as his jerk the ’chute lined
back and bellied out, and his body
belts tugged at him, and he swayed
in mid-air, no longer dropping gid
dily, but gently rocking, floating.
The wreck lay beneath him, con
spicuous silver in the fiery tint of
heather and sage grass sere and
browrf mat of last year’s grass.
Drifting in a strange quiet after
these three roaring hours of flight
and battle, Dorn looked down at. it
and studied it and prayed for a sign
of life.
Before jumping he had calculated
driftage of his pack-chute; and had
leaped one hundred yards north of
the wfreck, expecting to glide to
earth very near it. But the wind
pouring through- that pass proved
stronger at a low level than it had
been higher up. It caught his
chute and swept it along, and Dorn
realized he* would be carried south
to tree-line or even into the pines
down the slope below.
He cursed liis tragic helplessness.
He was suddenly sick of impotent
watching, sick of the vagaries of
wind and evil luck that tossed him
willy-nilly, and a feeling which
normally would have been sacrilege
swept over him—a revulsion and a
hatred of air work and of man’s
newest toy, the airplane. He wanted
his feet on solid ground again, on
sturdy mother earth, instead of
watching tragedies from afar, help
less to prevent them.
(Continued next week)
SPRIXfi
(Harry Holford, Clinton
I took a notion to go strolling,
'Twas oiii a sunny April day;.
So I wended my way toward the
bush,
To while some hours away..
The sun it was shining brightly,
The atmosphere was quite warm;
The sky was clear-—almost cloud
less,
It showed no sign of a storm,
The birds were twittering and chirp-
ing,
Some were trying hard to sing;
I supposed that toy were building
nests,
They seemed to know it was
spring.
I walked or sat down at my leisure,
I went about here and there;
I realized that winter was past,
The ground it was dry and bare.
As I moved to changing surround
ings,
All according to my will;
I felt myself taking on new life
With delight I seemed to thrill.
The frogs they were making melody,
The kind that they make in spring
To me it sounded quite natural
The warm weather coaxed them
to sing.
I wandered to a nearby river,
I watched it flowing along;
In the distance, the crows were
cawing,
I felt like singing a song.
I thought of the seasons of the year.
All coming around in turn;
It did seem strange how things were
arranged,
I thought I had much to learn.
I beheld all Nature about me, '
As t’wards home I onward went;
J thought of the whole Creation,
As a miraculous event.
I’ oft wish I were a real poet,
A beautiful poem I’d write;
I would take as my theme, “The
Springtime”
My readers it would delight.
The springtime is the planting time,
The time for the farmers to sow;
The time for early.flowers to bloom,
And shrubs to bud and grow.
’Tis pleasure time for little children,
I’ve noticed them skip and play;
Oft about the middle of April,
On a warm and sunny day.
It is the'Time for decorating,
When you want things to look
' neat;
’Tis the time to do the housecleaning
And the carpets for to beat.
The Sprng is the time that brings
new life,
When everything seems to charm;
’Tis the season of fascination,
In the town or on the farm.
’Tis true I admire the summer,
I like the Winter and the Fall;
But of all the seasons of the year,
I like the Spring the best of all.
REPORT OF EDEN S. S. NO. 4
“Have any of your childhood
hopes been realized'?” “Yes, When
mother used to pull my hair I wish
ed I didn’t have any.”—Exchange.
Sr. IV—Beulah Skinner 7:5.
Jr. IV—Everard Miller 65; Allen
Bus-well 63; Elsie Reid 61.
Sr. Ill—Harold- Kerslake 66;
Blanche Whiting 63; Carroll Quin
ton 54*.
Jr. Ill—Fred Luxton 82; Marie'
Buswell 67; Melville Buswell 55.
Second—Greta Webber, 84; Al
ma Skinner 70; Reg. Ford 66® Oh
Whiting 48.
First—-Donald Whiting 86; El-
wyn Kerslake 80; Hazel Buswell
73; Donald Essery 41.
Sr. Pr.—Edwin Miller 88; Glenn
Hunter 85; Helen Essery 68.
Jr. Pr.—-Junior Prout 88; Btob
Prout 53.
Elsie Gourlay, teacher
Lloyds (
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-Sandy pulled out his. handerchief
and a set of false teeth hit the deck
“They’re the auld woman’s,” he ex
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her eating between meals,”