IN THIRTY MINUTES Scud Bellamy and Peck Foster were beyond that inland sea, flying toward a rampart of snow-capped mountains the long, notched backbone of Vancouver Island. Looking over the cockpit edge. Scud could see the winding ribbon of the Island Highway.By Bertrand W. Sinclair38 min
CHATTER of friendly tongues and a child’s high voice and laughter. Coffee simmering fragrantly in a big pot on the flat-topped heater; and husky, weather-browned youths quickening pink-cheeked girls with easy laughter. The little schoolhouse was crowded this crisp autumn evening, and later there would be games and the swinging high of slim-waisted maids in the mazes of the square dance.By MARTINA S. YEITER25 min
THIS MATTER of prison reform, which occupies so much space in some of our newspapers, is one of which I know but little. As I said to my father-in-law at the dinner table only this evening, I am not sufficiently versed in the subject of criminology to care to express an opinion on the subject.By FRANK MANN HARRIS22 min
FIRST, there was David Bailey, a gentleman to the "yes manner" born. Then there was Marlene Mabie, who admitted that David had only one fault and nearly broke into profanity when she said it. Marlene had pansy-brown eyes, a skin like country cream and a soft feminine decisiveness.By WEED DICKINSON18 min
TO APPRECIATE Great Britain’s achievement in the world crisis, it is necessary first to understand that this country’s problems have differed in kind, substance and degree from those of any other country. Less than five years ago our very existence as a nation was threatened.By James Wedgwood Drawbell18 min
DOCTOR”—Danny Meedon’s faded blue eyes fixed on the calm professional face above him— “tell me straight what chances I’ve got. You can’t scare a soldier that was through the Somme about dyin'. An’ I’d like to know.” “You’ve got an even chance, Danny; fifty-fifty.”By WILL R. BIRD16 min
I read the April 1 issue of your magazine from cover to cover and I could not help noticing two letters which aroused my ire. Hence I am undertaking the thankless task of replying to them. So B. P. S., North Vancouver, does not like murder stories.
EERIE HALF-LIGHT of dawn in the mountains. Crashing, mysterious thunder of sound. Roar of wind. Rain of massive rocks. Oblivion. Death came, not silently “as a thief in the night” to that valley in the Canadian Rockies. But thundering, embodied in seventy million tons of limestone boulders, death plunged down the sheer wall of Turtle Mountain upon the sleeping town below.By FLORENCE ELDER MILES10 min
PARLIAMENT’S promised thunderbolts continue to be mostly heat lightning. Pre-election sessions are notorious for pugnacity, for statesmen who “view with alarm." This year, for some unaccountable reason, there is little but a listless tranquillity.By A POLITICIAN WITH A NOTEBOOK7 min
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