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CHAPTER I
Two worlds were coming together
as Baron Charles de Courland’s
sleek white yacht, almost as big as
an ocean liner, cut a path through
the Atlantic toward the African
shore. De Courland, European ty-
coon and big game hunter, dressing
in his master’s cabin, represented
civilization. The jungle, unbroken
and reaching down almost to the
waters’ edge, issued to him its prim-
itive challenge
The captain, in immaculate white
uniform on the bridge, peered at
the green band of vegetation be-
tween water and sky, directed the
man at the wheel to change his
course, and then picked up the in-
tercommunicating telephone.
He pressed a button labelled
“Owner.”
“Captain Van Huesen, sir,” he
said. “We are in sight of the river
entrance. We'll anchor off M’Pola
in an hour.
- The baron, who had slipped into
a silk lounging robe, thanked him.
He was a man of medium height,
dark of hair, perhaps forty years
old. He was marked not by his even
teeth, his unlined skin, his hair
which had not yet turned gray even
over his temples, or his dark, in-
telligent eyes so much as by the
ego, the self-assurance, the com-
manding poise which seemed to
buoy him even when he was alone.
When he had thanked his em-
ployee he continued to hold the in-
strument to his ear. He in turn
pressed a button. A smile of happy
anticipation lifted the corners of
his mouth.
In another stateroom, sheer fem-
inine garments were scattered over
the rich, modernistic furniture. !
From the bathroom came the sound !
of a shower, almost drowning out
the insistent summons of the buz-
zer. And at the same time the out-
side door opened. Fay Thorne,
blonde, tall and shapely, dressed in
cool pajamas and wearing sandals
on bare feet, breezed in.
“Linda!” she called. ‘Linda!’
Where are you?” :
From the bathroom came the
voice of Linda Stewart.
“Cooling off for dinner, dear.
What is it?”
“Africa!” Fay exclaimed. “And
I've you to thank for it. The baron
wanted to relax, asked you to come |
along—and I'm stuck with the job |
of chaperone!”
Linda emerged from the bath-
room with a huge crash towel cov-
ering all of her save her shapely
shoulders. She had honey-colored
hair which seemed to shimmer,
bright blue eyes, a perfect oval face,
a clear soft skin. It wasn’t hard to
see why the baron had asked her
on the voyage.
“Where ?”’ she asked.
“Right outside your window,”
{ him happy, too!”
Fay told her mumbling:
“Porthole, dear!” Linda corrected.
She looked out, exclaimed: ‘You
can’t see the jungle for the trees. I
must call Charles! He'd expect it.
He’s very proud of Africa!”
Fay asked, sardonically:
“Does he own that, too?”
Linda lifted the telephone. She
parried the baron’s invitation to
come on deck with:
“But I'm not dressed . . .
dear . . . Fay’s here.”
Then she put the phone down and
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Williammee Lists
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leaned her head against the port-
hole, letting the breeze blow
through her hair, her mood reflec-
tive. Fay ventured:
“You don’t mean a word of it.
Not a single, solitary word.”
“I didn’t say anything,”
smiled.
“Your voice did. Your voice said
you loved him.”
“That's what I want it to. say,
Fay,” Linda told her.
“You don’t love His Nibs!” Fay
shook her head. “You may kid
Linda
Articles Pupils Forgot
The staff cleaning the Dallas bor-
ough school buildings after the close
of school has uncovered many ar-
ticles of clothing, left in the base-
ment, the cloak rooms, the shower
rooms or the lockers by forgetful
students, and T. A. Williammee,
supervising principal, has asked
| owners to call for them.
“I suppose he’s afraid that if he
doesn’t someone else will beat him
to it.”
“There’s you answer. There isn’t
anybody else." And there won't be
I'm afraid. Not while you wear that
big sign: ‘No Poaching . . . Private
Property . . . Charles de Courland.’
What you need, my dear, is some
man to stir up a little competition
for your lily white hand. Then] ;
you'll get action.” The articles may be called for
“Perhaps,” assented Linda, “you July 1 or 2 or on the morning of
July 8 or 9. Articles not called for
have something there.”
2 will be disposed of later, since there
yourself—you may kid him. But you
can’t fool me.”
Linda emerged from the bathroom
all of her save her
‘I'll be happy with him!” Linda
was almost defiant. “And I'll make
Fay picked up a cigarette, con-
centrated on it.
“What about Bill Jeffrey?”
Linda got herself a drink of
water.
“Bill was turmoil—and tempest.
Charles is peace and security. He's
got an office and a home—not an
airplane!”
“Yes—and a yacht—and a cha-
teau—"
“All right!” Linda admitted.
means luxury, too.”
“Maybe he’s not just my type.
But I don’t see him the way you
do. He scares me. Every time he
snaps his fingers the way he does
to get service, I jump.”
“He never snaps his fingers at
me. He asks me—even when he
doesn’t have to.”
“Bill always told you what to do, |
Linda. And you did it. You loved
Bill.”
“He told me he was going to fly
down to Spain,” Linda said bitterly.
“He was going to look around. He
told me to wait for him. And I did.
Then, one day I received a copper
box—neatly labelled—the ashes of |
William Jeffrey, killed in action.” |
She took a deep breath. “I'm |
through with ashes, Fay! T've|
earned peace and security. I'll make
Charles a good wife to get it.”
“When and if he asks you—but]
he won't!” |
|
“He
“Why not?” Linda's eyebrows
lifted.
“Why does any man ask a woman |
to marry him?’ Fay countered.
ROUTE 115
TRUCKSVILLE, PA.
ALEXANDER VEITCH, Manager
ORCHARD FARM
James RircHiE, Manager
Gattle—Registered
Holstein Friesian
Jersey
Milking Shorthorns
Heifers and Bull Calves
Dorset Sheep—Registered
Flock of about 100
Chickens—Large Flock
White Leghorns
Rhode Island Reds
Berkshire Hogs—
Different Ages
Rabbits—Chinchilla
SOME OF ALL FOR SALE
Inspection Invited
liens lille loneliness eines oe odin
"HILLSIDE |
FARMS, Inc. |
Later, on deck, when the baron
{came up to her as she lay on the is no place at the school to store
them. The following pieces of cloth-
ing ared awaiting claimants: 22 gym
suits, nine sweaters, four boys’ un-
dershirts, 12 blouses; three sweat-
shirts, 16 pair sneakers, two girls’
jackets, one lunch box, one suit
case, one pair of girls’ shoes, six
pair of overshoes, three belts, seven
hats, five coats, 12 pair of socks,
five pair of gloves, four handker-
chiefs, one book bag, one towel, one
clown suit and two umbrellas.
The work of preparing for the
1940-1941 term of school is now in
progress, Mr. Williammee reports.
Supplies will be in early next month.
Most of the books have been order-
ed and will be received during the
next few months. The work of
changing the fifth and sixth grades
to the temporary building and the
i first and second grades to the first
| floor of the frame building is mov-
ing along rapidly.
| would remember it. I have three
| weeks away from the pressure and
work. I would miss you terribly if
you did not come with me—"
Linda smiled.
“You've never had a chance to
miss me, have you Charles?” she
asked. “Maybe that’s a good idea.”
She sat up suddenly. “I'll not go.
I'll be here when you come back.
You see, I want to be missed.”
with a huge crash towel covering
shapely shoulders.
curved stern divan, she didn’t turn.
She let him stand behind her, close
to her. She put her head back
against his shoulder.
“How quickly it got dark,” she| Fay interrupted their tete-a-tete
said softly. by joining them.
“There’s no twilight here,” he re- “Don’t look now,” she warned,
plied.
“I think I like your darkest Afri-
but we're being boarded by pirates.”
The “pirates’ turned out to be
ca, Charles,” she told him. “It’s|the port physician and old Jack
beautiful at night! Warm—gen- | McPhail, a thin, grizzled Scotchman,
tle—" | wearing a wrinkled seesucker suit,
“You'll like it in the day time, | and speaking with a brogue that
too. It's primitive. And you'll like|was almost un-understandable.
that. Midday in the jungle there’s | McPhail turned out to be the agent
not a sound. The world seems hard- |to whom the baron had written
ly to have begun. Come with me [ordering that the safari be organ-
on safari, Linda. All your life you |ized. He accepted a cocktail, reached
American agriculture, which has produced abundant supplies of food
and fiber, will be in a position to be of the utmost service to a suffering
world when and if “the most serious famine in world’s history” actually
: | strikes Europe next winter, according to the Luzerne County Agricultural
COUNTY FARMERS BELIEVE U.S. |
WORLD FAMINE
“The opinion seem to be wide-
spread in the United States that
Europe in the coming months will
see the most serious famine in the
world’s history,” a spokesman for
the committee told The Post this
week. “In view of this fear, atten-
tion should be called once again to
the abundant supplies of food and
fiber in this country.
“Already we are co-operating di-
rectly with the American Red Cross
in its humanitarian work of send-
ing supplies to Europe. As far as
available funds will permit, it is our
hope to continue. The people of
the United States approve aid of
this kind to the innocent war suf-
ferers. But refugee relief is only
part of our problem. We must re-
member that in our country we still
have millions of our own people who
do not have adequate diets. Every
effort must be made to expand do-
mestic consumption of our surplus
farm products.
“Never have the farmers of the
United States been in such a good
position to produce to the limit
with the minimum of labor. Both
our soils and our methods of agri-
cultural management have been;
greatly improved in the past several |
years. If labor should ever run short
in the cities, there is a great reserve
supply on the farms which can be
drawn on.
“This can be done efficiently and
without hysteria by means of the
community and county committee-
men. Because of our organization,
our agricultural efficiency and our
great supplies, we will not need to
plow the hills and the great plains
as we did in 1917 and 1918.”
Receives I. C. S. Diploma
Jean Edith Nelson of Dallas re-
ceived honors this week for com-
pleting the accountant secretarial ||
course, it was announced by R. T.
Strohm, dean of the faculty of
the International Correspondence
Schools at Scranton. A diploma was
awarded to Miss Nelson by Dean
Strohm.
for another when no invitation was
forthcoming.
The baron was upset when he
heard that Jim Logan, the guide,
McPhail had selected, had not re-
turned to M’Pola to start on safari |
in the morning.
“Don’t fret yerself, mon,” McPhail
admonished. ‘The seventeenth is no’
tull tomorrow, and the nicht’s ma
birthday.”
“Congratulations—but what’s that
got to do with my hunter?” the
baron asked, irritated.
“It means Jim Logan gets back
to celebrate wi’ me. Ya hae ma
personal guarantee.”
(To be continued)
-_—
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