Kankakee Valley Post, Volume 11, Number 29, DeMotte, Jasper County, 29 May 1941 — Page 6

If They Had Gone ‘Musical’

In the course of giving musical instruction over a period of twehty years, Arthur T. Cremin. director of the New York Schools of Music, has evolved certain basic rules governing the instruments for which people are best fitted, according to their individual personality and background. Here we have eight world leaders as they would appear if they had suddenly gone musical. The pictures are all composites.

People with quiet hobbies, like stamp collecting, are ideally suited for strumming on stringed instruments, such as the mandolin or guitar. The No. 1 stamp collector of U. S. looks pretty natural behind a guitar here.

THAT MAN! Nervous, tense people like Der Fuehrer make ideal piccolo players.

Ambition and the bass viol go together. Here is Henry Ford as he would look with the big fiddle.

NEW NOTE IN *MY WEEK” ... Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt is the ideal type for the violin. Simple, sincere people, says expert Cremin, should take up this instrument.

Affectionate people like Queen Elizabeth of England should be at home with the accordion, we are told. And Good Queen Bess seems to be. t Statesmen whose main mission in life is telling other people where to head in are ideally suited to be band conductors—always waving the stick. So here is II Duce directing. II inston Churchill has played many roles in his exciting life and played them all well. It is reasonable to suppose he would make a good rhumba player.

THE KANKAKEE VALLEY POST

The Lamp in the Valley

BY ARTHUR STRINGER

Three women love Sidney Lander, Alaska mining engineer. He is engaged to Barbara Trumbull, whose rich father is contesting the mining claim of Klondike Coburn, now dead. Because of Carol Cobum, teacher at Matanuska. Lander breaks with Trumbull.

It was the incompetents, of course, who’d caused the most trouble, the incompetents like the prolific and indolent Betsy Sebeck and her unkempt brood of offspring. But even in their sloth they remained instruments of destiny. For it was the mountainous Betsy’s two-year-old daughter Azalea who tried her best to stvallow an open safety pin, while playing about a littered tent floor, the safety pin already alluded to. The pin stuck in the child’s throat, and the mother, thinking it was choking to death, ran out screaming for help. It wasn’t long before Katie and her Black Maria arrived on the scene. She failed to find the pin and suspected it had slipped down to the child’s esophagus. But as she was without either X-ray machine or bronchoscopic instruments, she decided the case was serious and took matters in her own hands. In the absence of her Ruddy she radioed for a plane to carry her patient down to a properly equipped hospital. The answer came, three hours later, when we heard the drone of a motor through the hilltops. The courier of the sky, in this case, proved to be Slim Downey, the Cordova pilot, who had picked up the summons when he stopped to refuel at Fairbanks, on his way south from the upper Porcupine. He swung down between a furry colony of mountain clouds and was, quickly surrounded by an army of rapteyed watchers. But while the colony children pawed about the knees of that helmeted Viking and fingered and patted his plane struts, Katie did an odd and altogether unexpected thing. When she noticed her little patient in greater distress and giving every evidence of a choking fit, Katie .took the child by the heels, and, holding her upside down in those muscular big hands of hers, abruptly cracked-the-whip with that limp and unprotesting little body. She swung and jerked it as a busy housewife shakes a floor rug to rid it of dust. It seemed like sudden madness. But an equally sudden shout went up from the watdhers. For there, in plain view, they saw a safety pin fall out between their feet. “I guess that puts a kink in my mercy flight,” observed Slim Downey as Lander pushed through to his side. I saw the two men standing there, talking together. And I saw a quick and affirmative nod of Slim’s helmeted head. But it wasn’t until Lander shouldered his way through to my side that I realized the import of their hurried conference. “We’ve got our break,” he said with an exultant light in his eye. “Slim’s to fly us in to the Chakitana.” It was while Lander was stowing away our duffel, half an hour later, and I was waiting to climb into the cabin, that the culminating touch came to that drama of speed. It came in the person of Salaria, mounted bareback on one of her father’s horses. She swung off her horse and came straight to my side. ) Then she caught at my arm, as i though to hold me back from climbing up into the cabin. ' “Kin I come?” she said. She said it roughly yet almost imploringly. “What for?” I asked, at a loss for words before such impetuosity. “To swing in, if there’s any fightin’,” she announced. “I kin be a two-legged wildcat when there’s call for it.” I had to tell her, of course, that there’d be no call for it. But I noticed that Salaria’s dusky eyes continued to hold a look of desperation. “You’ve got Sid Lander,” she said with a shoulder-movement of comprehension touched with abnegation.' “I’m as dumb as a fool hen in a snowdrift,” she dolorously con fessed. “I never savvied.” “Savvied what?” I questioned.“I never savvied until that silkskinned Trumbull cat put me wise,” was Salaria’s embittered reply. “But I sure gave her an earful when I had the chance. I may not git him. Btit she won’t.” CHAPTER XXI The valley, which had once seemed so big to me, became a narrow shadow between clustering peaks, peaks I as white as wolf teeth, that lost their sharpness as we climbed. “Why do you call this ship the Snowball. Baby?” Lander inquired of the singularly silent man at the stick. Slim Downey laughed. “That’s what they christened her back at Bear Lake,” he answered. “Up at Eskimo Point they used to call her the Igloo Queen.” Still again I heard Lander’s voice. “Why aren’t you carrying radio equipment?” Slim laughed for the second time. “I’m a bush pilot. What good is two-way radio to us when we’re bel-y-dragging through a thousand miles of wilderness?”

THE STORY SO FAB

Sala ria Bryson, a big out-door girl, also loves Lander. She disappears. Lander finds Salaria. She bad Injured her leg while hunting. Barbara misinterprets the rescue and flings away her engagement ring.

INSTALLMENT XVII

“You know the Chakitana. of course?” “Sure,” answered Slim. “I was grounded and frozen in there two winters ago. Since then we’ve kept a gas cache at Carcajou Lake.” He scanned the welter of peaks and valleys over which we were arrowing. “You'll be seeing it in half an hour, if the fog holds off.” But the fog didn’t hold off. A new uneasiness crept through me as we went higher, to climb into the clear. Our pilot seemed to be watching the valley bottom over which we were winging. He dropped lower as the cloud floor fell away under us. ‘ He gave me the impression that he was peering about for familiar landmarks. Then b saw him stiffen and cry out, at the same time that Lander leaped to his feet. . “What’s that?” was the latter’s sharp demand. Slim Downey didn’t turn as he shouted back. But there was indignation in his voice. . “It’s rifle shots. There’s some fool shooting at us.” “Turn back,” I heard Lander’s voice call out. “And go down like a duck?” was Slim’s sharp-noted reply. “Not On your life’” Then I saw the helmeted jiead stoop closer to the instrument board. This was followed by a series of hand movements that were meaningless to me. But even before I

“It’s rifle shots. There’s some fool shooting at us.”

heard the stutter of the engine I could read alarm in- that forwardbent figure. “They got my fuel tank,’’ Slim suddenly shouted over his shoulder. “That’s Blackwater Lake on our left there. I think I can make it. I’ve got to make it.’’ We veered a little as we slid down an invisible stairway that was nothing but crystal-clear air whistling through our struts. I could see the earth coming up to meet us. And I could feel Lander’s hand groping for mine as we catapulted over ragged cliffs with little patches of snow between them. Then the valley widened again and between the lightly wooded slopes beneath us I could see a dark-surfaced pool of water that became much more than a, pool as we drew down on it. I he&rd Slim’s throaty shout of gratitude and felt Lander’s hand tighten on mine. But we merely sat there, in silence, as we taxied to a stop. “What do we do now?’’ asked Lander with what I recognized as purely achieved casualness. - Slim took out a cigarette and sat down on a rock. Then he mopped iis face. “We’ve got to get gas,” he announced, “from our Carcajou cache. But it’s no good to me, of course, until I’ve plugged that hole in my tank.” “Can you do it?” I rather tremulously inquired. Slim laughed at my woebegone look. “It’d surprise you what a bushhawk can do when he has to. When I was iced down on Cranberry Lake last winter, with a dead battery and no starting crank, I was blacksmith enough to turn an oiLscreen wrench into a hand crank. There’s always a way, young lady.” Lander placed his consoling big hand on my shoulder and said: “It's all right. We’re not licked yet.” “I know it,” I said a foolish little surge of faith. “We’ve grub for two weeks,” he pointed out, “whatever happens. We’ve fuel, all the fuel we need. And a chance for snowshoe rabbit or caribou if we need it. You’ll sleep in the plane cabin tonight and Slim and I’ll camp on shore here.” “And then what?” I asked, trying to keep the desolation out of my voice. “Then in the morning, when Slim’s

W. bl. U. Service

At last the air begins to clear up tn Carol’s and Sidney’s romance. Lander and Carol decide to fly to Chakitana. scene of her father's claim. But they seem unable to charter a plane. Trumbull's hand Is seen in this.

working on his ship and packing in the gas, you and I will start overland for Big Squaw Creek. We should do it in a day. And every day counts.” It was easy enough to say. But out on the trail, ten hours later, I realized there was little romance in mushing over the broken terrain of the Alaskan hinterland. There was no path through the spruce groves and no foothold on the hillside rubble. Twice we worked our w*ay up rough traverses that came to a dead end and compelled us to retrace our steps. Our shoulder packs trimmed down as they were to essentials, seemed to grow in weight vyith the growing hours. I even came to resent the tugging burden of SockEye’s old six-gun swinging from my belt holster. But I could see that my own burden, compared to Lander’s, was trivial. For rriy trail mate carried a belt ax and rifle and grub bag and blankets. Sometimes he had to use the ax to cut a way* through the undergrowth. We were two plodding animals, swallowed up by the wilderness, fighting our way through from one peril to another. And when we slept out that night, with a campfire between us and the aurora borealis brushing the blue-white peaks of the mountains above us, I lay stunned with a slowfly widening sense of sol-’ itude touched with unreality. It was the far-off how’l of a wolf that brought a final cry of protest from my lips. “I’m not much good to you, am I?” Lander quietly announced. I detected a new- timbre in his voice. And it was both a joy and a peril to me. “You’re a good lighter,told him. “But that isn’t everything,” he suggested. “No, it isn’t everything,” I agreed. His gaze went, for a moment, down the dark valley, and then returned to my face. “I know what you mean,” he said in that overdisturbing low voice of his. “But our fight isn’t won yet.” “But aren’t we letting something better slip through our fingers?” I was foolish enough to cry out. Lander sat considering this. “You call me a good fighter,” he finally said. “But any fighting I’ve done for you is easily explained.” 1 “How?” I asked. And again, somewhere between the blue-white peaks, I could hear the far-off w’olf howl. “Because I’ve always loved you,” he said with his face a little closer to mine. Then he stooped still lower, and pressed his cheek a'gainst my cheek. His face was rough and unshaven. But in its very roughness I found something infinitely soothing.

CHAPTER XXII When we broke camp the next morning Sidney Lander seemed surer of himself. Through his binoculars he examined the wide and twisting valley country and announced that we’d have to climb up into higher territory. “I begin to know these hills,” he told me. “We’re at last getting somewhere.” He pointed into the distance. “That’s the Chakitana,” he called down to me. I detected a note of excitement in His voice. “And in an hour we ought to be spotting the Big Squaw.” So we pushed on again. But my trail mate’s rise in spirits was not an enduring one. “I don’t like this loss of time,” he said as he glanced at the sun. “It’s three days now. And we may be too late.” “Too late for what?” I questioned. “We’ll know that when we get there,” he said with a curtness I wrote down to overtensioned nerves. So still again we went forward. We went clambering over mammil]ated rock ridges and dipping down into blue-shadowed canyons. “It’s great country,” Lander called back over his shoulder. « I couldn’t agree with him. It seemed wild and torn and empty, the outpost of the world, a scarred battlefield where titanic forces had clashed and enmities older than man had left desolation in the wake of tumult and warfare. I was glad when Lander cqme to a stop, at the end of a traverse that led to a wide rock ledge overlooking the westerly running valley. The valley itself widened out, with a cleft or two in the hill ranges where a series of canyons and smaller valleys radiated out from the lower wide bowl, with gravel beds and groves of stunted spruce interspersed along it’s broken, slopes. “We've made it,” I heard Lander say. I stood watching him as he moved forward and mounted a glacial hardhead that had all the appearance of a pagan throne carved out of granite. He had a little trouble, because of his heavy pack, in getting to the top of it. Then with his glasses he scanned the valley. (TO HE COM I.XL ED)

IMPROVED UNIFORM INTERNATIONAL SUNDAY SCHOOL Lesson

By HAROLD L. LUNDQUIST.

Dean of The Moody Bible Institute of Chicago. I (Released by Western Newspaper Union.>

Lesson for June I | Lesson subjects and Scripture tents selected and copyrighted by International Council of Religious Education; used by permission. BROADENING CHRISTIAjk HORIZONS: THE ANTIOCH MOVEMENT ' ,W LESSON TEXT—Acts 11:19-30 GOLDEN TEXT—For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the |>ow|er of God unto salvation to everyone thjit believeth; to the Jew' first, and also ta the Greek.—Romans 1:16 - . Scattered abroad’ As the flying , sparks and embers from a fire which is wildly beaten will fight many new fires, just so persecution of the early Christians sent them abroad and established new centers fo< the preaching of the gospel. Verse 19 of our lesson connects with Acts 8:4. The ministry of Philip in Samaria was paralleled by that of others in Phenice, Cyprus, and now in Antioch. That great city was not far from Jerusalem, but it was far from God. A mighty city, rich in trade, it was also deep in all kinds of sin; but there it pleased God to establish a great center of Christian testimony. God loves to do new things (see, for example, II Cor- 5:17; I sad 43:19; Ps. 33:3; Rev. 21:5). I. A New Church (yv. 19-21). ’ What a splendid church it was! .* Here in the midst of the most; evil surroundings the sweet flower l of Christian faith grew, as it so often does. . It was a church built 'upon a faithful testimony by God's 7 chosen witnesses “preaching the Lord Jesus” (v. 20). Their names are not noted,, but their message is, and its blessed results. It was a gathering place for all people—Jew’s and Gentiles. The disciples from Jerusalem preached at first only to the Jews, but God sent others (v. 20), woo preached His grac,e to the Gentiles. Note also that the Antioch church was a living witness. “The hand of the Lord was with them”—little wonder then that “a great number believed and were turned to the Lord.” Your church—and mine—might learn much by studying the church at Antioch. 11. A New Fellowship (w. 22-26). The genius of Christianity is fellowship/ Those who have a religious belief which makes them exclusive —not willing to fellowship with other Christians—db not truly represent their Lord. ‘ When the church at Jerusalem heard the good news, they sent Barnabas to help the' new converts establish fellowship. He was the ideal man to send, for “ ‘he w r as a gopd man.’ It is far more important that a man be good than that he be brilliant if he is to edify young converts. He was ‘full of the Holy Ghost.’ He was also ‘full of faith,’ and no man that is not, need take the work of instructing and developing young converts, especially converts from heathenism so dark as that in Antioch. He was free from the love of gold (4:36. 37). He was free from personal ambition and jealousy in his work (vv. 25, 26). He was very sharp-eyed to see the sincerity and propiise of. a young convert (9:27). ‘When he wa*s come, and had seen the grace of God, (he) was glad’ ” (John W. Bradbury). Into this new fellowship of life and service the gracious .and generous Barnabas brought a new evangelist —Sauk-God’s prepared man for this hour. 1 - . But we have another new thing in our lesson, one of great importance. Z 111. A New Name (vv. 26-30). Christian, the beautiful name of those who follow Christ was first used at Antioch. It may have held a measure of contempt (see Acts 26:28; I Pet. 4:16), but it was a remarkably suitable name for those who had come out of paganism now to live, in their old surroundings, a new life, a separated life, the Christ life. z This name “combines Jewish thought with Greek and Latin language, and thus, like the inscription on the cross, bears witness to the universality of Christianity as a religion for the whole world. The idea of ‘Christ’ (Messiah) is Jewish; the substantive ‘Christ’ (Christos) is Greek, and the adjectival termination ‘ian’ (-ianus) r is Latin This new name was intended to introduce and mark the difference between Jews and Gentiles on the one hand, and those who, whether Jews or Gentiles, were followers of Jesus Christ . .. . The term ’Christian’ evidently points Yo the Person of Christ, and to those who are associated with Him as His followers. It implies and involves union and close association with Christ”-(W; H Gris- ‘ fith Thomas). f Those believers at Antioch not only bore the name, they practiced the life of Christ Next Sunday we shall study their activity for Christ, for in that city began the great mis-, sionary movement which goes <»n b our day. In ckir less n today we , have another practical expression of their faith. They gave of their I means, “every man according to his abilities,” to meet the need of their new-found Jewish brethren in Judea.

D. D.