Thursday, October 8, 1936
THE HERMISTON HERALD, HERMISTON, OREGON.
THE CHEERFUL CHERUD
Its hard for me to sit
and knit
Or sew up endless
seams.
idleness
Just weaving
dreams
GUNLOCK
RANCH
little
by
FRANK H. SPEARMAN
Copyright Frank h Spearman
WNU Service
WNU Service.
Money Destroyed
When Uncle Sam’s paper mon
ey becomes worn and badly soiled
it is returned to the Treasury
where it is destroyed and bright,
new bills issued in its place. If
all denominations were thorough
ly mixed together before being
tossed in the macerator each ton
of money destroyed would contain
approximately 590,000 one-dollar
bills, 190,000 fives, 130,000 tens,
60,000 twenties, 20,000 twos and no
more than 10,000 fifties and high
er denominations, which proves
that the larger denominations do
not wear out so quickly. The
twenties, fifties and larger denom
inations do not circulate with
nearly as much velocity as the
ones, fives and even the tens.—
Pathfinder Magazine.
Something Amiss
In going home from the party, if
your wife says never a word, a
man breaks the stillness with:
“What inexcusable social error
have I committed now?”
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Even If other remedies have
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druggist Is authorized to guarantee
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money If you are not satisfied with
results from the very first bottle.
Get Creomulsion right now. (Adv J
Loquaciousness
The girl who speaks volumes
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CHAPTER VII—Continued
—11—
“That’s where we got caught—right
there," cried the barber.
“We got
back to the ponies an' bad to cut
aerosa a piece of burned timber to get
out. A dead limb from one of the treea
fell on me. I went down with the
pony. When I kicked loose, the pony
bolted, an' when 1 tried to get up, my
leg was broke.
“There we was. Doc. Panama's pony
couldn't carry double. The fire was
creepin’ up on two sides of us. It was
terrible. Doc—that's all a man can say.
Just terrible. We couldn’t hardly hear
us talk. Panama picked me up to set
me on his pony. ‘No!’ I yells. 'It
won’t do, Panama, an’ you know It. I'm
done, Panama.
Save yourself. You
ain't got a minute to lose. Get back on
your horse and run for It.’
“ ‘Shut up, Jake,’ Panama yells. ‘Get
up on that pony I' I tried to fight It out
with him—but I was crazy with pain
’n’ couldn’t handle myself, neither. He
lifted me on his pony, stuck the lines
In my hands.
‘Beat It,’ he yelled.
•What’ll you do?' says 1. ‘I’ve got good
legs, 1’11 run,’ be says.”
A melancholy procession took the
desert road that night for Sleepy Cat.
In the wagon lay Panama: beside him
lay his injured friend, Spotts—Jake
would have It no other way.
In town, next day, the boys tried
vainly to figure out some sort of a de-
cent burial service for Panama, The
best coffin to be had In Medicine Bend
was ordered by telegraph to reach
Sleepy Cat on train Number One.
"I’ve got it," exclaimed Jeff Sollers,
He
who was sitting near Carpy.
slapped the doctor’s knee. “We’ll have
the old Doc’himself make a few re-
marks over Panama."
“No.”
“Yes,”
“Hell, noi I won’t do It,” growled
Carpy.
They all set on him. “Yes, you will."
Carpy was inflexible.
"Boys, you
might Just as well shut up."
“But why won’t you?”
“Well, I tell you. I’m Just another
bum, like poor Panama—that’s all. You
needn’t yell—I know. The way I look
at it Is this: Nothing In Panama's
life became him like the leaving of It.
Surely no man could die a nobler death
than Panama's. Now I want to see a
man who lives u life like Panama's
death say a few words over Panama,
and I'm going to try to get him to do
It. Who? The old padre over on the
Reservation.”
“But he won't do It. Panama didn't
belong to his church !”
“That doesn’t make a d—d bit of
difference, boys.
The padre knew
Panama. He knows me. He will do
it—if we're lucky enough to catch him
at home and not away fifty miles on a
sick call. I've done a few things for
Padre Cataldo, I know the man inside
and out.
Dr. Carpy called up the padre
and was lucky. At least the padre
was at home. As to his coming—that
was something else again. Carpy held
him long on the wire; he pleaded ear-
nestly. At last he agreed to come.
At eight o'clock, the welcome splut
ter of the dilapidated engine was heard
outside. The padre, a Gunlock buck
chauffeur, and a little Indian boy of
ten or twelve disembarked, and the re
ception committee welcomed the guest
of honor to the hotel office—long well
filled. And headed by the clergyman
and the little fellow, the growing
crowd straggled down the street to
Harry Tenlson's, where poor Panama
lay In state on the rear most of the
pool tables.
Padre Cataldo, laying aside his hat
and his overcoat of many patches,
made the sign of the cross, knelt a
moment In silent prayer, and. standing
behind the pool table on which Pan
ama lay In his coffin, spoke clearly
and simply.
Boys,’ said the old priest, “this
looks like a queer place for a padre;
perhaps a queer Job. But I've known
Bill Hayes a good many years. I knew
him In his wildest days. And I've
known him for the last three years,
since he turned over a new leaf.
“Bill used to visit me and talk with
me. It was something 1 said to him
once, so he told me. that started him
thinking. ‘What's all this about—this
greedy, rotten old world?’ he asked him
“That doesn't make a damned bit of
all to think about?
"Bill was not a follower of my faith
—you know that. But he believed
Jesus Christ to be the Son of God. and
for three years he has tried the best
he could to keep his commandments
and persuade the boys up and down
the Une to do the same. He told me
he wanted to try to do right where he
had spent his life trying to do wrong.
•'Naturally, I never heard Bill
preach. But I have been told what
eloquent and sincere sermons he did
preach. But out there in those forgot-
tei hilla, facing—no. not facing but
embracing—a dreadful death.
Bill
preached a deathless sermon, for be
took his next from the lips of God
himself, And wherever you bury him.
beys, let the words of that text be
graven on Ids tomb:
“‘Greater love than this no man
hath, that a man lay down Ills life for
his friends.’”
The lull In the fire threat issued In
fresh dangers to the hill ranches. A
blaze starting up anew on the reser
vation cut-over lands crept north on
the very night that Panama was bur
ied.
With what aid she could bring, Jane
rode next morning over to her neigh
bor's only to find the situation critical.
By noon the fire fighters were being
driven back all along the line. But,
loath to abandon hope of saving the
ranch buildings, the men fought till
Denison, riding among them, warned
them to look first to their own safety.
Biding then fast to the ranch house.
he found Jane consulting with Quong
in the kitchen.
“I must think of your safety. Jane,"
he said, “It is getting too close to dan
ger here. You and Quong must go
home."
“BID, is It that bad?”
“We might as well face the truth.
It's not safe here for you. You must
go, and quickly. Are your ponies sad-
died?"
"They are.
“Then take Quong and mount up.”
Jane’s eyes softened. They fell be
fore his. "I Just hate to go. Bill,” she
pouted, tantalizingly. “It sems like de
serting a friend.”
“It Isn't, Jane. You may Imagine,
girl, how I hate to send you away. But
you know who I'm thinking of, don't
you?"
"You mustn’t think too much of any
body but yourself Just now. Bill,” she
murmured. "I do some thinking my
self these days.”
Quong had been called. Always fore
handed, without any words he was
winking and blinking In bls saddle.
Denison handed Jane her lines. She
leaned toward him and spoke low :
“We Must Do Some More Running
Ourselves, Jine.”
“Bill, will you promise me. solemnly,
one thing?”
"Promise you anything, girl.”
"Solemnly, Bill?"
“Solemnly. What Is It?”
“That you’ll think first fur your own
safety. Now promise I"
“I promise, Jane."
“For my sake. Bill?"
“Do you mean that?”
“I do mean It,"
“God bless you. If the buildings go,
I’ll ride over to report tomorrow."
The wind died that night with the
bloodshot sun, as if to leave In the
hearts of Its victims a faint hope of
escape from the worst of Its ravages
Jane slept so well that she opened her
eyes In the heavy air of daybreak,
conscience-stricken at having rested
peacefully during the hours In which
her neighbor might have been burned
out.
She dressed, ate Quong’s hurried
breakfast, saddled her pony, and set
out for Denison’s, directing Quong to
follow as soon as he could The smoke
grew more dense as she neared the
ridge, and she reluctantly turned about
for home and told Quong of her failure
and that she would ride up Into the
high hills to try to see what was going
on.
She remounted and rode up the Di
vide trail. The smoke was so dense
that It cut off hope of seeing the
valley, and, spurred by the determina
tion to see by riding higher, she rode
on and on till she found herself at the
foot of Gunlock Knob. Jane beaded
the pony up the mountain. The sum
mit had never seemed so hard to
reach, but. panting and exhausted, the
pony carried Jane to the summit, and
she rode out on the table to look. The
scene below was terrifying.
Huge
clouds of smoke billowed and spread,
only to boll up anew and race on the
wind. It seemed as If the whole coun
try were In flames. Here and there
tongues of tire shot from the rolling
smoke.
Jane sat the pony, fear-stricken and
immovable, watching and hoping for
a rift In the angry clouds that would
None
reveal the ranch buildings.
came.
length, and depressed,
Jane turned her pony's head to ride
home. Gunlock Itself might be In dan-
Even the pony took the downward
trail reluctantly. Jane could not tell
why until, rounding a shoulder of the
Knob, she saw below her a fire sweep
ing across the trail she was following.
Worse than that, the fire was spurting
through the brush, up the mountain, in
front of her.
The pony balked.
Thoroughly frightened, Jane turned
him up the narrow trail and beaded for
the summit.
Even the few moments she had been
away from the top had changed the
scene. Overwhelmed with consterna
tion, she began to think anew of her
own safety. She urged the pony swift
ly down the trail again, hoping faintly
to find some hidden by-pass. Her path
was blocked. The hot air of the fire
below was catching at her throat;
gusts of smoke burned into her eyes.
She reined about to return, despairing,
to the summit.
Once again the level rock afforded
her temporary refuge. She dismounted.
The pony was growing unmanageable.
He snorted, stamped, flung bls head up
and down and chewed frantically at his
bit. Hope deserted her. She sank to
her knees and fell forward, covering
her face with her arms.
For a moment her mind was a blank.
She heard nothing of a frantic calling
of her name, when a singed and black
ened horseman spurred and lashed his
pony toward her, sprang from the sad
dle, and caught her up in bls arms.
“Janel” he cried, as he looked into
her face and shook her in his effort to
restore consciousness, “Jane! Open
your eyes! Speak to me! It’s Bill,
Jane, BUI ! Can’t you hear me? Speak !”
Her eyes opened; she looked In a daze
at him. “It’s Bill, Jane!”
She threw her arms convulsively
around his neck. "Oh, Bill, Bill! What
can we do? Must we die. Bill, In this
horror?”
“No!” he exclaimed. “We can get
through. But we mustn’t lose a min
ute, not a second. Come!”
He half carried her to an edge of the
summit, where a rock crevice gave a
slight footing a few feet below. Into
this he lowered himself and raised his
arms to Jane.
"But the horses. Bill?” she cried.
"Leave them,” he called back. “They
may escape. There’s no footing for
horses where we’re going. Quick, Jane!
Jump !” He caught her In his arms,
steadied her, showed her how to secure
herself an the precarious footing, and
lowered himself to another slender
ledge to brace himself, bade her spring,
and caught her again in his arms.
Her heart beat so violently, he
seemed to feel It as she hugged close
to him.
There was barely room for
the two to stand. "Keep cool, Jane.
We can make it, but be very, very
careful of your footing, darling Jane?
The fire hasn't touched this side of
the mountain yet, but If you fell It
would be a hundred feet. Be everlast
ingly sure of every step, won’t you?
Never move until I tell you.”
Spurned to superhuman effort, Deni
son achieved the almost impossible,
and by sliding, clinging with fingers,
hands and arms, and by carefully us
ing his lariat, he managed to bring
Jane down unharmed to the foot of
the precipitous wall that bad given
him the bare chance to save her life.
He held out his arms to catch her for
the final Jump. “Bill!” she exclaimed,
breathing hard and looking up In sheer
amazement nt the precipice down
which he bad brought her. “How did
we ever get down there alive?”
He was still very anxious—the
wrinkled veins of his smoked forehead
plainly mirrored that. She waited for
orders. "We must run through that
grove of quaking asp and try to get
away from the Knob. This will all be
burning In a few minutes. Are you
able to run?”
“I’ll bet I can run faster than you,
Bill.” The laughing tone of her words
thrilled and cheered him. He knew
better than she what still lay between
them and safety. They hastened on
through the light timber; then, running
a broad shoulder, they saw a vast pan
orama of smoke, lighted In places by
flames where the fires had wrought
destruction In the virgin pine forests
along the mountain slope.
Denison hurried on, Jane briskly
keeping pace with him. But when they
neared the smoking pine, she felt dis-
mayed.
“Bill, It’s all on fire, yet—look at the
little blazes. See the ground pine, and
the trees arc smoking and burning
yet. Bill ! See the deer running over
there—mercy, those are bear running,
too—why, every animal you can think
of—”
Jane was looking toward an opening
In the pines, half a mile away. It was
a precipitous flight of the animal life
of a whole mountainside from the
wrath of a forest fire.
“They’ll better run," said Denison
grimly. “We must do some more run
ning ourselves, Jane. There’s very lit
tle danger crossing this strip. But I
want to get across it quick."
They dashed Into the tire area to
gether. Little tongues of flame darted
from the still burning ground, but
nothing to threaten Jane's stout laced
boots or leather trousers.
They crossed the burned strip and
broke together down a long slope that
bordered another forest of pine.
Denison paused and looked anxious-
ly at Jane. "How are you standing It,
girl?"
She was panting, but game. Her
high-colored
cheeks,
the
flashing
brightness of her eyes, her parted eag
er lips, made her a picture.
“Fine, Bill. Are we out of danger?"
They were standing together Io the
wind and smoke that swirled and ed
died up the mountain. His hand was
at her back aa she leaned on his arm.
Perhaps overwhelmed by the thought
of wbat he must say, he hugged her
close and. drawing her unresisting lips
to his own. held them In a long kiss
“I wish we were, Jane. We’re going
only now Into danger—I wish it
(TO Bi CONliyt EDi
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Handsome Cloth Is
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UNDAY I
CHOOL Lesson
S
By REV. HAROLD L- LUNDQUIST.
Dean of the Moody Bible Institute
of Chicago.
© Western Newspaper Union.
Lesson for October 11
BECOMING A CHRISTIAN
LESSON TEXT—Acts 16:22-34, Philip-
pians 3:7-16.
GOLDEN TEXT— Believe on the Lord
Jesus Christ, and thou »halt be saved.—
Acts 16:31.
,
PRIMARY TOPIC—Two Happy Pri-
■oners.
JUNIOR TOPIC—Heroes In Prison.
INTERMEDIATE AND SENIOR TOP
IC—How May I Become a Chriséian,
YOUNG PEOPLE AND ADULT TOPIC
—How to Become a Christian.
The conversion of Lydia and her
gracious growth into usefulness as
a Christian is in striking contrast
with the experience that Paul had
with the demon-possessed damsel
(Acts 16:16-18). A satanic power
of divination had made her profit
able to unscrupulous men. Such
men have not perished from the
earth, and there are still those who
make merchandise of silly and sin
ful women.
Paul commands the demon to
come out of her and at once the
issue is drawn.
I. Christianity versus Crooked
Business (Acts 16:22-24).
As long as the missionaries were
at the place of prayer and in the
home of Lydia they were not dis
turbed.
But as soon as they
touched the illegitimate gain of these
“business” men who were making
money from the misfortune of the
poor damsel, bitter opposition arose.
Cunningly combining the plea of
false patriotism and anti-Semitism
with the ever-potent argument that
business was being hindered, they
raised a hue and cry which re
sulted in the beating and imprison
ment of Paul and Silas (Acts 16:14-
21).
We live in another century, but
men are the same. Let the church
and its members only go through
the motions of formal service and
present a powerless religious phi
losophy, and the world will applaud
and possibly support its activities.
But let the pungent power of the
gospel go out through its life and
ministry, and deliver devil - pos
sessed men and women, let its
God-given grace expose the hypoc
risy and wickedness of men and
there will soon be opposition.
II. Down, but not defeated
(w. 25, 26).
The preachers landed in jail,
beaten, bloody, and chained to the
stocks. What a disgrace it would
have been if they had come there
because of their misdeeds.
How
ashamed we are when professed
Christian leaders sin and fall into
the hands of the law.
But “Blessed are they which are
persecuted for righteousness sake”
(Matt. 5:10). Little wonder that
they forgot their bruises and their
chains and began to sing and pray,
even at midnight.
Note that “the prisoners were
listening to them.” The words we
speak, the songs we sing, our every
action, speak either for God or
against Him. “Whether therefore
ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye
do, do all to the glory of God.”
As they pray God speaks, chains
fall away, prison doors open. Men
can lock doors; God shakes them
open.
The jailer, cruel and bold when
he put them into prison, but now
in fear, is about to kill himself.
But God has better thoughts con
cerning him. Paul cries out, “Do
thyself no harm” and he experi
ences
III. Salvation Instead of Suicide
(vv. 27-34).
Thank God for the earthquakes
in our lives which bring us to him.
The jailer, being rightly exer
cised by God's dealings with him,
asks the greatest and most im
portant question that can ever
come out of the heart of unregene
rate man—“What must I do to be
saved?” Reader, have you asked
this question? Then you, too, are
ready for the answer, “Believe on
the Lord Jesus Christ and thou
shalt be saved.”
The closing verses of our lesson
present the personal testimony of
Paul that he had surrendered
IV. All for Christ (Phil. 3:7-14).
All was but loss to him compared
with what he gained in Christ, We
speak of surrendering all for
Christ, but as a matter of fact
we lose only what is of no real
value and make infinite gain.
Paul, as are all great followers
of Jesus Christ, was a “one thing”
man. All that he had or was or
hoped to be, every ounce of energy
and love, went into his pressing
“toward the goal unto the prize
of the high calling of God in Christ
Jesus.”
Independence of Opinions
It is easy in the world to live after
the world's opinion; it is easy in
solitude to live after out own; but
the great man is he who in the
midst of the crowd keeps with per
fect sweetness the independence of
solitude.—Ralph Waldo Emerson.
Overcoming Desires
I count him braver who over-
comes his desires than him who
conquers his enemies; for the hard
est victory is the victory over self.
—Aristotle.
Pattern 5193
Here’s Fun for you—and Beauty
for your dinner or tea table— in a
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which all the others are based,
and to crochet a goodly number of
squares. When you’ve enough, join
them to make a beautiful table
cloth, bedspread, dresser scarf or
pillow cover. Then sit back and
wait for compliments !
In pattern 5193 you will find
complete instructions for making
the square shown; an illustration
of it, of the stitches needed ;
material requirements.
To obtain this pattern send 15
cents in stamps or coins (coins
preferred) to The Sewing Circle
Household Arts Dept., 259 W.
Fourteenth St., New York, N. Y.
Write plainly pattern number,
your name and address.
Never Satisfied
Prisoners continue to plot for
escape in spite of the fact that
they have been living rent free
and meeting no bills for food or
medicine. Wild animals often ap
preciate the care they find in cap
tivity and if they wander away re
turn gladly to their cages. As
evolution continues it reveals the
human being as showing the high
est form of discontent.—Washing
ton Star.
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GIRL TO WOMANHOOD
This letter comes from
Col:
“When I was *
girl developing Into wom-
anhood I was pale and
weak.
Mother gave me
Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Pre-
scription and It soon gave
relief.
I could eat more
Co to your druggist
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New size, tabs, sot Liquid $1.00 a $1.35.
Writs Dr. Pierce’s Clinic, Buffalo, N. Y.
WNU—13
41—36
CLASSIFIED DEPARTMENT
OPPORTUNITY