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. 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I tried several ointments to no avail. Then I pur chased some Cuticura Soap and Ointment and in three weeks my complexion was clear and smooth again.” (Signed) Miss S. Fortier, 959 Worcester Ave., Pasadena, Cal. Wonderful relief for pimples, rashes, itching and burning of ec- tema and other skin and scalp conditions of external origin when you use Cuticura. Buy BOTH to- day. FREE samples by writing "Cuticura” Dept. 33, Malden, 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 ............... IMPROVED UNIFORM INTERNATIONAL Handsome Cloth Is Quickly Crocheted 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 lacy pattern which you can cro chet so easily of string. It won’t take you any time at all to learn the “sample” square design, on 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. PAININ NEARLY DROVE HER CRAZY Got Quick RELIEF By Rubbing Muscles were so sore the could hardly touch them. Used Hamlins Wizard Oil and found wonderful relief. Just nibbed it on and rubbed it in. 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Writs Dr. Pierce’s Clinic, Buffalo, N. Y. WNU—13 41—36 CLASSIFIED DEPARTMENT OPPORTUNITY