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THE SUN, NEWBERRY, S. C„ FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 25, 1938 \ * CINDER PRESSURE C George Agnew Chamberlain By George Agnew Chamberlain WNU Service CHAPTER XV—Continued —18— "Yank off bridle and saddle and turn him loose.” Suddenly Joyce be gan to sob. “What are you crying about? There’s simply nothing else to do.” “Oh, It’s not that!” cried Joyce, still weeping, as she unbuckled throat latch and girth. “It’s Tro- nido. I’m—I’m crying about Tro- ni<’o.” Don’t,” said Dirk, “please don’t, or you’ll have me so I can’t do a damn thing. Don’t you suppose— Hell!" Then he continued quietly, “Joyce, hold on a bit; we may both have to ride Rayo. The battery’s run down.” “Oh!” she gasped, grief forgotten in the face of fresh disaster. Suddenly Dirk started tearing out the front cushion. “Here it is, thank God—the crank. Get in, Joyce. Take the throttle and work the choke. Hurry!” He leaped out and in a moment was cranking with all his might. No use. Not a spark. Then he began using reason and judgment, giving Joyce time enough io do the same. They teased the motor—teased it into a first gasp of life. Then more teasing. Then a roar, so sudden, so mighty that it seemed the old car would shake itself to pieces before Joyce could shut off the throttle. The backfiring was deafening, more like a machine gun than a motor. “Oh, Dirk!” she screamed though he was already at her side, “I can’t make it stop!” “Who’s a fool now?” he yelled at the top of his voice. “Take your foot off the accelerator and push yourself over.” Then he was at the wheel, back ing, turning cautiously for fear of the spikes of niggerheads, but final ly straightening out on the Toluca trail, shifting into second and at last into high. Joyce turned, kneeled on the seat and looked back. The riders were closer now, quite close; some of them were already dis mounting, their carbines unslung, and running to kneel on the farther edge of the barranca. “Never mind the bumps, Dirk,” she called over her shoulder, “give her gas and take everything that comes. The shooting is about to start.” “How far off are they?” asked Dirk. Then and there Joyce was stumped, for is there a woman alive who knows by sight the difference between a hundred yards and a half a mile? “I don’t know,” she said; “I haven’t the least idea.” "Of course you have!” he shouted impatiently. “How far? Is it ten yards or a mile?” “I don’t know,” Said Joyce. “I’m not being stubborn; I just don’t know.” Then she cried, “Never mind—here it comes!” The first bullet struck in line but well behind the car; it ricocheted and passed over them with a screaming whine. That was enough for Dirk, he opened the throttle wide and sent the flivver careening across the prairie, making note of the direction he would have to take to bring it back to the abandoned trail. More bullets followed but none so threatening as the first and pres ently there was silence. Joyce sat down and sank back, sighing her relief. “I guess we’re safe, Dirk. Hadn’t we better nurse the tires a bit? They must be pretty soft.” “You’re right,” said Dirk, slow ing down. “How long has this soap box been parked in that gully?” “Let me see,” said Joyce calcu lating!;. “Is it a year? No; it can’t be. I’ll give you a chance to figure it out for yourself, Dirk. How many days have you been at La Barran ca?” “Nine," said Dirk promptly. “Then add three to that,” said Joyce. “It doesn’t seem possible. Twelve days, less than two weeks! I was away twelve years; I’ve been back twelve days. Somehow it doesn’t make sense.” CHAPTER XVI At the first crossroads they were lucky enough to get gas and the poor old flivver, faithful to the last, limped into Toluca a little before noon. Abandoning it in a side street to avoid unnecessary complications, they walked to the San Carlos and bqfore long were feasting on crystal trout fresh from the Lerma and cer tain equally famed accessories. More than once they raised their eyes to look at each other across the table, then dropped them be cause their hearts were too full of content for words. . But the moment the meal was over Dirk said without warning, “Joyce, will you marry me? I’ve got to know.” “Yes, Dirk. When?” “This afternoon. As soon as we get to the city.” “Oh? Why wait till then?” asked Joyce. But Dirk was in no playing mood. “Because there’s no American con sul in Toluca,” he answered grave ly. “Does there have to be a consul?” “Either that or some authorized officer from the embassy. Any preacher in good standing can do the trick, but the presence of an American official as witness is what makes it legal at home.” “I see,” said Joyce slowly; then she raised her eyes to his face. “Dirk, I’m yours. I’ll do whatever you want me to.” He reached out to lay his hand on hers. “I love you, Joyce.” “And I love you, Dirk. Is that why we must hurry so? You’d think it would make us willing to wait.” He frowned. “You haven’t told me your reason for rushing to Mex ico City, but I think I guessed it.” “To attend to General Onelia,” said Joyce, also frowning. “I thought so,” said Dirk, “and that’s why we’re going to marry to day. When you take on Onelia or the ambassador or any other small “A Person of Your Particular Looks, Size and Adorable Build.” fry I want a right nobody can dis pute to be in the ring—to sit in your comer.” She smiled. “Again I love you, Dirk.” Going out in search of the finest car available, he walked on air. He was glad to be alive, glad to be re lieved of the strain of driving and to sit in the back with his arm around Joyce, both of them wrapped in the same rug. Arrived in the city they drove straight to his little house and from her first glimpse of its exterior to the last long look within Joyce was conscious of pleased wonder and a steadily in creasing sense of well-being. Here was a nurtured loveliness, unpur- chasable in bulk, individual to the core yet with arms held wide to all devotees of good taste. She was happy in this house. Even Pablo, masKing amazement, all but chok ing on suppressed joy at the return of his missing master, seemed of its warp and woof. “What about a hot bath to start with?” asked Dirk. “Splendid," she answered quick ly, then her lips drooped. “I haven’t anything to put on.” “Don’t worry,” said Dirk. “Search the world and you couldn’t find a costume more becoming than what you’re wearing to a person of your particular looks, size and adorable build.” “Silly-head!” “I can furnish you a soft shirt for a blouse and by the time you’re ready for them the jodhpurs will have been brushed and pressed as sweet as a flower." He turned to Pablo. “Pablo, this is the senorita Joyce Sewell, from whom you may take orders as coming from myself, only more so. Give her into the charge of Paulina. As for the rest, I leave it to her since she talks Spanish better than either of you.” Dirk had not dismissed the hired car and without bothering to inform Joyce or even waiting to wash his hands he started for the embassy proper, passing the chancellery by. The great iron gate was opened by a strange porter but the man on the door was an old friend. “Good afternoon, Antonio.” “Buenas tardes, Don Deerke," cried Antonio, excitedly, “buenas tardes, buenas tardes!” “Is the ambassador at home and awake?” “Si, senor; como no?” “Tell him a Mr. Van Suttart would like to see him. Be sure you give the message just as I say it.” As they entered the vast living room the ambassador himself emerged with a rush from his study, stopped and stared. “Well!” he gasped, “I’ll say you came on the run!” His eyes moved up and down. "Haven’t you changed those clothes since you left?” Dirk glanced downward ruefully, then looked up and grinned. “I ad mit it's pretty bad, sir, especially since I come as a private citizen.” “What do you mean? I haven’t fired you yet.” “I was merely anticipating,” said Dirk, looking around. "What are you hunting for?” “Two things. A chair with a wash able cover and a drink.” “Forgive me, my boy. Sit any where you like; there’s nobody to kick about it since I’m a grass-wid ower from a week ago till the Christmas holidays. I’ll ring for your usual. Come on, now; what’s on your mind?” “I’m here for assistance, sir. I want you to help me marry Miss Joyce Sewell of La Barranca this afternoon.” The ambassador collapsed into the nearest chair and groaned. Then they talked—talked as only two men who possess an identical back ground can talk. The rapid fire of questions and answers covered not only Dirk’s absence but swept from such broad considerations as his an cestry for three generations back, down to the trifling matter of his present private income in dollars and cents with salary omitted. Yet there was no confusion. When they got through there was nothing either of them didn’t know about the inner and outer workings of Dirk Van Suttart. “Let’s see where we stand,” said the ambassador, summing up. “You want to marry Miss Sewell. Well, she’s certainly of age as far as that operation is concerned, so stopping you by getting her stepmother to stop her is definitely out. Then you state you can’t wait even to tele phone your people because of the urgency of securing Onelia’s aid, because what they say wouldn’t make any difference anyway, and finally because they’re probably in Europe.” He scowled. “The first of those three reasons is what’s bothering me — trouble heading straight this way.” “You needn’t worry on that score,” said Dirk. “As a matter of fact, sir. Miss Sewell emphatically doesn’t want the aid of this estab lishment. She says she can get along a whole lot better without it. Her idea is that ever since embas sies have been run for trade and to hell with the trader they’ve become mere stumbling-blocks to the pio neer—also a constant pain, an eye sore.” “Eh?” exclaimed the ambassa dor, astonished; then he asked with genuine solicitude, “Are you sure she’s quite all there?” “Quite,” said Dirk confidently. “The truth is, sir, I’m inclined to agree with her. Give her a chance and she’ll make a monkey of Onelia—which is more than we have ever been able to do.” “Dirk—I’m calling you Dirk be cause I want you to think of me as sitting here in place of your father— in less than two weeks this girl has managed to do extraordinary things to your mind, so much so that I beg you not to trust it until you’ve taken advice from someone capable of judging her with impar tial eyes.” “I agree to that,” said Dirk promptly. “What about yours? Do you think they would be impartial?” The ambassador frowned, then smiled. “All I can say is I’d try my best to make them so. When can you bring the paragon around?” “Don’t think me impertinent, but there isn’t time for that. Besides, since she has nothing but riding clothes she might find it embarrass ing.” * “I take it you’re inviting me to your house,” stated the ambassa dor. “Yes, sir,” said Dirk, “and I’d be a lot more humble about it if you hadn’t waived your ambassa dorship to act as my father.” “That’s a bull’s-eye,” conceded the ambassador. “Let’s go—the quicker the better.” “Do you mind if I have a wash, sir?” begged Dirk. “I mightn’t have time later on.” “Help yourself; you certainly need it and you know the way.” Dirk washed all he could reach without undressing, then paused long enough to do some important telephoning; consequently several minutes elapsed before he found himself in the ambassadorial car and only then did he feel a first twinge of trepidation. Almost an hour had passed since he had aban doned his prospective bride without warning. How would she react to such cavalier treatment? How to the surprise he was about to spring on her? Absurd as it might appear, what Joyce thought about anything seemed to him * lot more impor tant than what tne ambassador was going to think about Joyce. Even so he was in for a shock, for the moment Pablo opened the closed door of the living room and stood back that his master and his master’s chief might pass they crashed in upon an astonishing scene. Before them, back to the door and with hands thrust in her breeches pockets, stood Joyce in an unmistakable posture of battle. Be yond, a veritable lioness of a hat less woman not only in appearance but by virtue of her roar, paced the room from side to side. Words were tumbling out of her in an un ceasing and reverberating rumble, yet Joyce’s voice, accurately pitched, could cut across it quite clearly without apparent forcing. “It’s no use, Margarida,” she was saying. “You can yelp all you like but you’re here and you’re going to stay. Try to get out and I’ll ride you down the block. That’s why I’ve kept on these clothes.” “Joyce, please!” cried Dirk In an agonized voice; then he collected himself and faced the older woman. “LicenciadaRMargarida Fonseco, may I present his excellency the ambassador of the United States?” He laid his hand on Joyce’s shoul der as she turned. “Chief,” he half gulped, “this is Joyce—Joyce Sewell.” The ambassador found himself looking into as straight and blue a pair of eyes as he had ever seen— eyes of a blue that at the moment was aim: :t black. He took a hand cool to the touch, slender, yet amaz ingly firm, and the next instant a current of courage and the will to fight swept up the length of his arm straight to his heart. “My dear,” he heard himself say ing after quite a pause, “don’t you think we might all sit down?” “Of course,” said Joyce; then hes itated, looking doubtfully toward Margarida. At that moment Pablo appeared at the door, stood back and an nounced loudly: “General Sebasti an© Sanchez y Robles, ex-minister of war.” “General!” cried the ambassador, advancing with outstretched hand. “What brings you here, of all places and people?” “I don’t know,” said the general, glancing around in a bewildered manner, "I really don’t. Excellen cy. I came in answer to a mysteri ous message from the young lady who caused us so much trouble, brought about my downfall and thus established my reputation for all time as a prophet. Is she here?” Joyce stepped forward. “Pres ente, mi General.” She smiled, but almost immediately turned sober. “If I did you an injury, I’m more than willing and ready to make amends. General, I’m going to tell you a story. Frequently I shall have occasion to call upon Licenciada Margarida Fonseca for confirma tion. 'Whenever she denies a point you may take it she nfleans the con trary. Let her face be my star witness; I defy her lips.” (TO BE CONTINUED) Red, Blue and Green Lights Seen as an Aid in Growing Greenhouse Plants In the plant world, red means go ahead, green lights mean stop. Ex periments conducted at the Smith sonian Institution in Washington, D. C,, by W. H. Hoover, a scientist in the department of radiation, show that plants respond to colored lights by speeding up or slowing down their growth to zero. The reason that plants exposed to green light cease to grow or slow down progress, is that they simply reflect the green through the color ing matter in their leaves, called chlorophyll. Thus, they fail to ab sorb the light, just as if they were growing in dense shade. The reds, on the other hand, no ticeably stimulated the process of development. Able to absorb the light, plants exposed to red and red- blue rays proved able to assimilate larger quantities of the carbon diox ide essential to their development and so speeded up to a correspond- ing rate of growth. The process went on rapidly under exposure to rays so intense that they are invisible to the human eye. Plants can evidently distinguish ul tra-violet light and reds far beyond the range of visibility for the human race. While the sensitiveness of plants to rays of colored lights is a fact of general interest to gardeners, it will have an economic value, Hoover believes, in bringing specimens into bloom earlier or later than under ordinary conditions. Growers will be able, by flooding their green houses with green light, to hold back their plants or, by the use of deep red and blue rays, to force them into bloom far ahead of their season. Papyrus Made From Plant Papyrus paper was used exten sively in Greco-Roman times and was made of the papyrus plant, which grew in profusion along the Nile. **★★★★***★***★★★*★★ ! STAR s I DUST | * Afliovie • Radio * ★ 'ik ★★★By VIRGINIA VALE★★★ J UDY GARLAND, Fanny Brice and Allan Jones, those persistent favorites of the “Good News” radio hour threat en to become top-ranking stars in motion pictures, too, as soon as Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer re leases “Everybody Sing.” Unlike recent screen musicals that buried their stories under pon derous sets and armies of dancers, this one makes the story all-impor tant and just introduces song num bers and gaudy sets incidentally. It is a tale of a frenzied family. Papa is Reginald Owen, an excit- Fanny Brice. able playwright; mama is Billie Burke, a stage star given to fits of weeping; Judy Garland the swing singing daughter, Fanny Brice the maid, and Jones, the chef. With the aid of the maid and chef, Judy tries to bring some order into the chaotic household. Waiters up at the Arrowhead Lake lodge where many Paramount com panies go on location think that mo tion-picture acting and strange tastes in food go together. Fred MacMurray demanded maple syrup on his cottage cheese. John Barry more puts pepper on his oatmeal. Gladys Swarthout eats whipped cream on boiled cabbage, a peasant dish she learned to eat as a vocal student in Hungary. Because Carole Lombard does not like turkey and cannot eat It with out an expression of disgust, a prop erty man on the “Fools for Scan dal” set bad to fix up something that looked like a turkey leg, but wasn’t, for a scene of hers. He just stripped a turkey leg, wrapped it with roast beef, and Carole was able to play the scene with required enthusiasm. —+— Hollywood players, equally weary of crowds, are joining a back-to-the- farm movement. For some time Barbara Stanwyck has lived on a Clark Gable Kay Francis ranch quite remote from Hollywood and recently the hinterlands have claimed Myma Loy, Charles Win- ninger, Kay Francis, Clark Gable, Robert Taylor and Carole Lombard. There is no unemployment prob lem these days among the Holly wood studio hairdressers. Extras appearing with Norma Shearer in “Marie Antoinette” require the daily services of one hundred and fifteen hairdressers, who draw a to tal wage of two thousand dollars. Rumor has it that several of Ray Bolger’s best scenes were cut out of “Rosalie,” but he does not care any fnore because he is to be re warded with stardom in “Snug Har bor.” Audiences at the preview of the "Goldwyn Follies” were so en thusiastic over Phil Baker that Sam Goldwyn ordered his salary doubled on his next picture. Third of the trio on whom good luck smiled this week is Frances Dee. Paramount was so impressed by her work in “Wells Fargo’ and her current "Marching Herds” that they have given her a glamorous role opposite George Raft in “Racing Form.” ODDS AND ENDS—Don Wilson, Jack Benny’s announcer, plays himself in “Radio City Revels" ... Fred Astaire and James Cagney are inseparable pals these days. Ever since Cagney revived his old days as a hoofer in “Something to Sing About” he has been dance mad .. . Henny Youngman long on the Kate Smith hour made a tremendous hit in a Hollywood night club with the result that you will be seeing him in motion pictures soon . . . Dick Rowell is dissatisfied with his radio program and threatens to walk out on it if he is not given more authority over what appears on the program . . . Barbara Stan wyck has made peace with R. K. O. and will appear in "The Saint in New York." ® Western Newspaper Union. IF YOU want to be all set for a *■ full and gay Spring, have these three dresses in your wardrobe. Something for morning, something for street and a lovely frock for afternoon parties. All three are easy to make. And you can have the complete group for a fraction of what you would usually spend, if you make them at home. Shirtwaist Style. Trim and tailored, this is the fa vorite silhouette for Spring. The skirt- with kick pleat back and front is fun to wear, very comfort able for walking and going about your daily wdrk. Note the yoke top and inverted pleat in back of bodice to permit perfect freedom. It is a grand spectator sports dress and will make up beauti fully in silk crepe, rayon print or cotton fabrics. Princess for Morning. You’ll feel sweet as sixteen in this pretty square-necked princess dress with fitted lines. The sil houette is molded and slim. Note the pretty sleeves, puffed high, to make the waistline look even smaller. Choose a pretty cotton print or one of the new rayons to make a dress as charming as the one shown. You’ll find the pattern complete with sew chart telling you exactly how to proceed. Fitted Lines for Afternoon. Look lovely and picturesque in this frock on molded lines with uplift at the waist and soft shir ring in front of bodice. The roll collar and low V neckline is very slenderizing. You’ll enjoy the good lines, the flattery of this dress and its grand wearability. Whether it is a luncheon for six or a dinner at eight, you’ll be cor rectly dressed in this frock. The Patterns. 1976 is designed for sizes 32, 34, 36, 38, 40, 42, 44, 46, 48 and 50. Size 34 requires 4% yards of 35- inch fabric. 1452 is designed for sizes 14, 16, 18, 20, 40, 42, 44 and 46. Size 16 Discretion of Speech Discretion of speech is more than eloquence; and to speak agreeably to him with whom we deal is more than to speak in good words or good order.—Francis Bacon. requires fabric. 1451 is designed for sizes 34, 36, 38, 40, 42, 44 and 46. Size 36 re quires 5% yards of 39-inch fabric. For collar in contrast % yard. Send your order to The Sewing Circle Pattern Dept., Room 1020, 211 W. Wacker Dr., Chicago, I1L Price of patterns, 15 cents (in coins) each. • Bell Syndicate.—WNU Serrice. Dr. Pierce’s Pleasant Pellets made of May Apple are effective in removing accumulated body waste.—Adv. Personal Architects Every man is the architect of his own fortune.—Salter. BLACKMAN Stock and Poultry Medkaes Are Reliable - c • Blackmans Stack Powder • Btackmaa’s Caw Tonic • Blackman’s Nag Powder • Blackman’s Pouttry Tablets I’S Highest Quality—Lowest Price Satisfaction Guaranteed or your money back BUY FROM YOUR DEALER BLACKMAN STOCK MEDICINE CO. Chattanooga, Tara. — Worthless Friendship No one is more worthless than he who seeks a friend for any rea son except friendship.—Jami. New Real Economy! 1 do*. St. Josoph Aspirin lOo S do*. St. Josoph / 8V4 do*. St. Je St.Joseph GENUINE PURE ASPIRIN The Will Makes the Giver For the will 'and not the gift makes tba giver.—Lessing. To Prosper and Live To live, to work, to help and to be helped, to learn sympathy through suffering, to learn faith by perplexity, to reach truth through wonder—behold! this is what it is to prosper, this is what it is to live!—Phillips Brooks. CHEW LONG BILL NAVY TOBACCO o 66 FIVE Minus TWO heaves FOUR” WRONG? Wall, yes—and nq. The vithiastia of your school days taught that "If Mary had five dollazs and spent two..." three dollars remained But that is mathematics—not shopping!In managing a home... guarding a limited family income... we’ve simply got to do setter than Mary did. We must sharpen our buying wits... ascertain when the dollars at extra value lurk.. .take five dollars to town and get much more iat the money spent Fortunately, there are ever-willing guides right si hand—the stdrartiae- snenta in thie newspaper. Advertised merchandise is eftan exceptional value merchandise. It makes dollais S-T-R-E-T-O-H. '