The Wingham Advance-Times, 1938-07-07, Page 6THE WINGHAM ADVANCE-TIMES
i
"I
the
By Harry J. Boyle
“PORTRAITS”
up,” Dave in
elbow.
the
make cream sour and they exclaimed.
rushed in, head down,
aside and straightened
a looping left to the
let him walk into a
arm three times, then
followed him,
Mary in the
beaten nester threw open the
The house consisted of one
a double-decked bunk at one
stove and table at the other.
mESISJN
Dave let him walk into a straight right three times
Thursday, July 7 th, 1938?
I
HOWMUCH
By Luke Short
O AUTOpASTER
FEUD at
SINGLE SHOT
SYNOPSIS
With his partner, Rosy Rand, Dave
Turner is on his way to his ranch at
Single Shot. Both are returning from
prison where they have served sen
tences for unjust convictions. On the
train, which is carrying a large sum
of money, Rosy's quick action and
straight shooting foils a hold-up while
Dave saves the life of Martin Quinn,
a gambler, who is being threatened
by a desperado. Stopping at Single
Shot, the sheriff tells Dave he is not
wanted. Quinn defends Dave but
Dave and Rand go to Soledad to meet
Mary, Dave’s sister, and proceed on
horseback to the ranch. Mary reveals
she is married and tells Dave that
the ranch is doing poorly, being beset
by nesters and involved in a claim |
dispute. Suddenly a shot from the
darkness topples Dave from his horse.
-Rosy fires and kills the unknown as
sailant and they rush to the ranch to
treat Dave’s severe scalp wound. Next
morning, at breakfast, Dave and Rosy
discover that Mary is now cooking
for the ranch hands—a bad sign. Af
ter discussing financial matters with
Mary, Dave and Rosy saddle horses
and leave for Single Shot to deliver
a corpse to the sheriff and see the
town banker. Identity of corpse re
veals him to be ex-employee of Ham
mond’s. Dave, Rosy and the sheriff
immediately confront Hammond with
facts. Fight between Hammond and;
Dave prevented by sheriff.
-■%. • * * * .
“Those nesters are in good black
land,” Dave continued. “They’re all
probably pretty good farmers. I can
get a crew of Mex’s to ditch water
down to them from the creek. It runs
•about a mile from the bottomland, but
it’s shut off by a low hill.” He look
ed at Rosy. “Let those nesters raise
■alfalfa on shares with plenty of wat
er.”
"You turnin’ farmer?”
"No. B>ut look. There’s a bunch
of mines around here, besides these
two towns. With water we could get
three crops of alfalfa in the summer.
. Contract some of it, hold the rest and
get skyhigh prices for it later. In
ninety days, I’ll have enough from
■that to clean off the paper and start
in stockin’ the place.”
A two hours’ ride brought them to
the lip of a grassy hill and they rein
ed up. At the bottom of the basin
lay orderly checkerboards of fields,
now fallow, waiting for the spring
plowing.
Small in the distance, at the base
of the cliff, lay a cluster of buildings.
They rode point to the cabins,
skirting the fields a little. There were
six houses that Dave could see, log
shacks. As they aproached the first
shack, a man stepped out the door.
He noted passively that the man was
so tall he had to stoop to get through
the door. He was unshaven, hatless,
wearing dirty bib overalls and a flan
nel shirt.
They reined up before him and
Dave let his eyes wander casually
around the place before he brought
them to bear on the nester.
"Howdy,” he said amiably.
The nester spat noisily.
“Lookin’ for some one?” he grow
led slowly.
“Six of you,” Dave said laconic-
ally.
"I’ll do,” the nester retorted.
He was staring into the barrel of a
Colt in Dave’s hand.
"Close that door,” Dave said softly.
"You got a gun there just inside the
door, so move slow.”
' The nester continued to stare in
solently at him, his hands in his hip
pockets.
Dave’s gun exploded and a chip of
wood behind the nester’s head splint
ered off,
Dave saw the nester’s face set a
little as he leaped away from the
door. He reached in and got the raw
hide latchstring and swung the door
shut.
“Now step out here,” Dave said.
He leathered his gun and the nester
stepped close to his horse.
Dave folded his arms.
"I’m D&ve Turner,” he announced,
“How would you like to clear off
my land?” he asked softly.
With the quickness of a cat, the
nester drove his fist into the nose of
Dave’s horse. The horse jerked his
head high, reared, and Dave slid out
fighting.
“Get in the house,” Dave said,
got some turkey to talk.”
The
door,
room,
end, a
Four home-made chairs and a shelf
comprised the rest of the furniture,
"Sit down,” Dave ordered, stand
ing in the middle of the room.
"I reckon you know why I’m here.”
They nodded.
"I can run you off this land right
now and burn your shacks, I reckon
you know that.”
“Sure,” one of the nesters, a small
wiry man in middle age replied.
"All right,” Dave answered. "I got
a proposition to make. You can take
it or leave it. You five can farm on
a sixty-forty split here on an alfalfa
crop. Startin’ tomorrow, you can
break up all the land you can. I’ll get
a crew to put in ditches. In a we.ek
and a half you can be ready to put
in the crop. With plenty of water,
we’ll get three crops this summer and
a market for the hay with ail
■A
B.’
i
of the saddle. The nester turned arid
ran toward the house. Dave tripped
him and the nester crashed into the
door.
Dave stood a little ways off from
him, unbuckling his cartridge belt and
holsters, letting them fall to the
ground.
“Get up and take a beatin’,” Dave
said softly, kicking the guns out of
reach.
The nester
Dave stepped
him up with
mouth. Dave
straight right
avoiding a low kick and flailing arms,
he sank a body swing to the nester’s
stomach, doubling the heavier man
up.
Dave stood over him, breathing
heavily.
“If you want any more, stand up,”
Dave said.
“Not me. That’s enough.”
"Look what I got in the round-up,”
Rosy’s voice said from the corner of
the house.
Dave turned and saw four men
standing sullenly before Rosy, who
had dismounted and made the rounds
of the other shacks while Dave was
horses there are in these two towns
and the mines. Suit yourselves. Stick
here and take a forty per cent share
and work, or clear out—way out.”
"You mean you’re puttin’ water
down , here?” the middle-aged man
asked.
"That’s it”
The nester gave a brief glance at
his companions.
"I dunno about the rest of ’em, but
I’ll stick and glad of it. Damn glad
of it. My son-in-law—he owns the
place on the other side of me—will
too. He ain’t here, but I’ll swear he
will.”
“I’ll stay,” the big man said.
"Same here,” the other two joined
in.
“If this goes right,” Dave said,
“There’s no reason why this arrange
ment can’t go on. It’s up to you all.
You’ve got more good bottom land
here than you ca*n ever farm. You’ve
got water — or will have it. I’ll have
the seed ordered in Single Shot and
delivered to Soledad and you can haul
it up from there.”
"I don’t feel right about this,” the
middle-aged nester said. "I never
have. I’ve usually paid for what I got,
this this here spread had so danged
N.Y. BOYS’ CLUB LAD WINS CANADIAN TRIP
ir
Having won the Ontario-Outdoor
Life award at the recent sportsmen's
show on the basis of his selection as
the "best all-round camper” for 1937,
because of his many years spent as a
camper at Clear Pool camp, maintain
ed by Madison Square Boys’ Club at
■' *
Carmel, N.Y., William Lares, 17-ycar-
old yputh of New York city, is off on
a canoe and fishing trip as a guest
of the province of Ontario, Canada.
Billy, pictured with fishing rod he re
ceived from the Ontario government,
and the American flag which he’ll
carry on the trip to present to
Ottawa Boys’ club’in exchange for a
Canadian flag, is bid godspeed at city
hall, in New York, by Deputy Mayor
Henry H. Curran (LEFT), as Albert
B, Hines, managing director of the
Madison Square Boys’ club looks on,
much 1and-«that I reckon I hated to
see it go to waste. But from now on,
Turner, I’m payin’ my debts, You'll
get nothing but work from me, jMy
name’s Rourke.”
"All right,” Dave said, grnning.
"Let it ride that way, Rourke, If
there’s anything you need, and I can
give it to you, come up to the house,”
By lantern light —- for it was past
ten when they reached the ranch —-
Rosy rubbed down the horses, grain
ed them and was forking soihe hay.
The stable door swung open and
Winters stood in the doorway, his
dark face scowling against the light.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said*amiably, as
he saw Rosy. "Mind forking down
some hay for my horse?”
"Sure.” Rosy answered,
Winters led the horse in, a big bay
with a Roman nose, still breathing
heavily, lus sides wet wijh sweat.
Rosy was about to speak, but held
his tongue. If the hombre didn’t
know enough to walk a horse after
lathering him, then let him lose a
couple of horses in the process of
finding out,
“Look over the range today?” Win
ters asked.
“Ttfok that jasper into town on his
horse,” Rosy answered.
"Name of Freeman. Used to work
for Hammond.”
Winters snorted, then smiled know
ingly. "I don’t suppose Dave has told
you what-Hammond’s trying to do
about the lake up here.”
“He told me,” Rosy said. “We saw
Hammond too.”
"What did he say?”
"He’s shootin’ on sight at next
meetin’,” Rosy said dryly.
A dim roll of thunder came to their
ears, The first tentative slaps of rain,,
dull and widely spaced, echoed hol
lowly on the barn roof.
Winters followed him into the cor
ral and stopped, hands on hips, look
ing at the sky.
"Glad I’m finished with that hole,”
he said. "It’ll have two feet of water
in it.”
"Prospectin’?” Rosy asked.
"Yes. I putter around some. I got
some color up in those canyons to
the west of that rock slide on Old
Cartridge. May not’ be much, bu.t it
keeps me on my toes in case I want
to get back in the minin’ game.”
“I got so interested there this af
ternoon I worked till way after dark
ness by lantern light. You’d never
guess, but—”
“We bett.er hightail it,” Rosy cut
in. ‘ "We’re goin’ to get wet.”
The meal finished and cigarettes
smoked, Dave helped Mary with the
dishes. Finished, he yawned, stretch
ed, and informed them that he was
going .to bed. Rosy
leaving Winters and
kitchen.
"Tomorrow we split
formed him as they undressed in their
room. "I’m goin’ to locate all the
cattle and get ready for a count. You
go to Single Shot, order the 3eed for
them nesters and round up a couple
of riders. Then ride over to Soleda’d
and get hold of Pablo Manero at the
frame store there. Tell him I sent
you and that we want about ten Mex
icans, tools and all, to put in that
ditch. And—oh, I’ll tell you in the
mornin’. I’m talkin’ in my sleep now.
G’night.”
It was a dull, gathering, earth-rock
ing, window-rattling roar that woke
them.
Rosy raised up on his
“Dave,” he called softly.
"I heard it,” Dave said.
Another report came booming
through the rainy night.
"Dynamite,” Dave guessed.
"There must be a ton in each shot.”
Three more vast detonations in
quick succession seemed to shake the
house.
"Where’d it come from?” Rosy
asked.
“Up in the mountain, Old Cart
ridge way,” Dave replied. "I’m tak-
in’ a pasear. You cornin’?”
They dressed in the dark and left
the house noiselessly. A steady driz
zle was beating' down and the first
faint lights in the east announced ap
proaching day.
They saddled their horses swiftly
and swung out through the mud tip
to the trail to the notch. When they
reached the timber, gray daylight al
lowed them to see. Dave rode ahead,
urging his horse.
A half mile from the notch in the
rock rim, Dave left the trail and
started up the rock-strewn steeper
grade that announced the mountain.
Rosy, puzzled, reined off after him.
Suddenly it dawned on Rosy where
they were going and why Dave had
ridden so unerringly for this point.
They mounted a hog’s-back and
Dave reined up, staring. Before them,
a basin seemed to have been scooped
out of the very base of the tunneled
mountainside. It was roughly oval,
a quarter of a mile in length. Its bot
tom, slanting steeply to the center
from all sides, was a thick, black,
shining-wet slime of mud. Steady........ „ . .
trickles of water seeped up thinly in Then we came to a scowling sort of
some places. Rosy's eyes followed old fellow with a face that would
the level rim around and there, to- make ci-eam sour and they exclaimed,
ward the east edge nearest the rock
him, a chunk seemed to have been
knocked out of the rim, leaving in
its place a wedge of gray storm-
blanketed sky. The forty yards from
the edge of the’rock rim to the edge
of the lake had been blasted out!
(Continued Next Week)
PHIL OSIFER OF
LAZY MEADOWS
Hum^n nature is much the same
now as it was in years gone by. Peo
ple still like to bore other people by
showing them pictures. Of course,
the pictures that they show nowadays
are not as bad as the ones they used
to show. I like to look at interesting
pictures, but the heaven deliver me
from those pictures In the front room.
The portraits that repose in the con
verted sewing basket in the front par
lor are anything but interesting.
I will always remember when I was
a boy, bundled up in stiff clothes and
sent tp visit my great-aunts Martha
and Matilda. They were good souls,
both of them, whom Fate had never
been kind enough to give a man to.
The result was that they had dispos
itions like vinegar, no sense of humor,
and employed themselves in deplor
ing the way the'world was going.
I arrived punctuality, and was to
Spend the afternoon while my father
attended a meeting at the Town Hall.
They looked rather helplessly back
and. forth at each other, when I stood
like a. fish out of water inside the
front door. Then they whisked my
snow-laden shoes out the door, and
ushered me into a front-parlour that
had all the furniture draped in white
dust-covers. A chair and sofa were
cleared with a heavy air of dust that
clogged up my breathing passages.
There was a brief session of polite
questions about my relatives and
their health, and then another five
minutes of uncomfortable silence.
Then Martha suggested td Matilda
"Perhaps Phil would like to see the
'pitchers’?”
About that time anything was a re
lief and I agreed. Then the basket
was pulled out from where it reposed
on a shelf of the table -with the orna
mental sea-shells and the artificial
flowers', and they handed me a port
rait. «*
I must have been’ of the opinion
that they were a form of comics be
cause I remember laughing, "Look
at the funny old geezer with the
whiskers!” They looked scandalized.
“Phil, that was your Uncle Ebriam.
Hie was A good man in every respect.”
I decided to watch my tongue and
restrain my laughter, and so on I
went through at least twenty pictures,
"Your great-great granfather on your
father’s side. Ah, but he was a kind
man, and a great church-goer.”
Somehow or other that soured me
on my ancestors. They appeared to
me like a very "mangy” bunch, assoc
iated with a musty front-parlour that
was enshrouded with white dust-cov
ers and foreboding great aunts. It
seemed too bad to me that all my vis
ions of dashing forefathers should be
dispelled by the sight of their por
traits.
For instance, I had always rather
enjoyed stories about my Uncle Ned.
They told in a rather scandalized way
how he had run away with the dau
ghter of a barkeeper after spending
five years in the navy, and just about-
landing up in jail on several occasions
for brawling. Then I had. to see that
portrait. It showed him as a meek
looking fellow with an over-sized Ad
am’s apple just disappearing under a
stiff collar. His clothes were about
twice too big for him . . ., and the
sight of him in that tin-type dispelled
any romantic notions I may have had
about him.
And then there are always the cute
pictures that they take of you when
you’re a baby. You’re too young to
do anything about it then, and later
on when you drop in at relatives’ they
simply must bring out that asinine
picture and show it all around. Those
are bitter moments!
I want to go on record here and
now saying that I don’t like any such
things or portraits. Do you think
they should be allowed?
Potato Beetle Poison Spray
Potato beetles lay their eggs on the 1 cation.
under-side of the leaves of the potato
plant in yellow masses and when a
number of these have hatched the
first application of poison spray
should be made. The best and cheap
est poison to use is calcium arsenate,
at the rate of one and a half to two
pounds in 40 gallons of Bordeau mix
ture (copper sulpate 6 pounds, lime 4
pounds, water 40 gallons). Should ar.
senate of lead or Paris green be pre
ferred as a poison, two to three lbs.
of the arsenate and one-half ot one
pound of Paris green may be substi
tuted for each 40-gallon barrel of the
spray.
Growers who prefer Jo apply the
poison in powder form should use a
dust composed of one part of arsen
ate of lead to six parts of hydrated
lime. In dusting, best resul^ will be
secured if the application ig made in
the early morning or late evening
when the vines are wet with dew and
when the air is calm.
In spraying potatoes, the poison
should always be mixed' with Bor
deau, as' this material is not only a
valuable fungicide but repels the at
tack of destructive insects like flea
beetles and leaf hoppers. Two or
three applications in a season should
give sufficient protection from all in-'lfi
sects when applied thoroughly and at W
a time when the new damage first be-
comes evident in each case. In spray
ing, cover both the upper and lower
surfaces of the leaves and use an ab
undance of material When the plants
are small, 5,0 to 75 gallons per acre,
and when fully grown 100 to 120 gal
lons are not. too much at each appli-
• A wonderful bed; a clean,
quiet room; pleasant, efficient ser
vice; and a friendly atmosphere -
these are what you get, and all
you pay for, at the Madison-Lenox.
No frills-just genuine comfort and
consequently, genuine economy.
An excellent location,
with garage nearby.
MADISON AVE. AT GRAND"CIRCUS PARK