BOB ARMSTRONG’S 
Distemper Medicine 
The product of years of experience 
with Distemper cases. This is no patent 
medicine but the greatest Distemper 
killer the world has ever seen. 
GUARANTEED to cure 99% of 
Distemper cases if taken in time 
and according to instructions. 
Put up in tablet or powder form. 
Packages, enough for four dogs, 
price $7.50. 
Leaves no after-effects such as 
Chorea, etc. 
The best life insurance you can put on 
your dogs. 
BOB ARMSTRONG 
ROBA, ALA. 
'<■ S’ 
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I enclose $1.00 for which enter the following name 
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Name . 
Street 
or R. F. T>. 
City . State. 
Your name . 
the pond? Plenty of them. He squints 
up at the sky. It will be rather rough, 
but we can row a half mile across, 
under the lea of that sloping shore to 
the Eastward—where there’s grass in 
the water—-and try it. Why not? Yel¬ 
low perch—what was it ... a year 
ago? In the dead of night, he heard a 
great commotion down in the pond, near 
his house. For some inexplicable rea¬ 
son, thousands of good-sized perch had 
gotten into shallow water. All night 
long, the men worked with nets and 
they took WAGON-LOADS of fish to 
town when day was breaking! It was 
a sort of miracle of the moorlands. 
We shoved out from shore in the face 
of sassy waves. This “Pond” deserved 
a better name. It was miles across and 
around, and very deep. I found it 
ugly business—attempting to row that 
clumsy flat-bottom, against wind and 
unruly water, to say nothing of the 
masses of cluttering grass—and the 
over-capacious oar-locks. 
“Better not go too far out,” Cap’n 
Henry called. He was standing on 
shore, bare-headed, the wind whipping 
his silvered locks and an expresison of 
something akin to doubt, to reluctance, 
on his gaunt, weathered face. Cap’n 
Henry had been nine times around the 
world on sailing vessels. 
I was three-quarters of an hour row¬ 
ing the comparatively short distance 
over to the protected curve on the other 
side of the first “bay”; back ached and 
hands smarted. I seemed to be making 
no progress whatsoever. It was on the 
tip of my tongue several times to say: 
“Let’s try it some other day, Sonny.” 
Only the lad’s eager face and bright 
eyes kept me at the oars. 
The wind was increasing in velocity 
all the while; the water choppier, the 
boat more difficult to manage. 
We somehow managed to anchor in 
that rage and roll of pond, and to chop 
the beef into small bits of bait. Seven 
splendid perch were in the boat before 
we could count the minutes; when the 
odds became too great. Added lead 
would not make our lines remain on the 
bottom, and angry waves began to 
break over the sides of the ungainly 
craft. Above, sunshine had suddenly 
disappeared and the sky was sullen, 
cloud-filled, sinister! 
“We must go in,” I shouted to Sonny- 
boy, who was worried not at all, “it’s 
too rough.” 
“Don’t go back on MY account,” I 
heard him respond, holding to his seat, 
as the boat gave a violent lurch. 
I did some rapid mental calculation. 
Although the distance to the nearest 
land was less than three hundred feet, 
I knew intuitively that I could never 
make it—the two of us at the oars to¬ 
gether, would be no match for all that 
had broken over us in those final te 
minutes of wind storm. There wa 
something of the tropic fury in it. 
And I made up my mind to turn th 
boat about, and steering as best I coul 
with the oars, allow the boat to swee 
back to the point from whence we ha 
started, propelled by the gale. In son; 
fashion or other I could make a lan^ 
ing—we would be literally driven int 
the shallows and the grass. 
I remember I stood up to reach fo 
an oar which had gyrated from nr 
hand. ... I recall that the unman 
ageable boat swung around as if . 
whale had been harpooned, and then- 
overboard I went, my head strikinj 
the gunwales! 
Many things must have happened 
An unseen drama was enacted unde' 
the lash of the wind and water, o: 
which I knew nothing— and there wer< 
none to witness it on the beach—bu : 
when my eyes opened, I was flat on nn 
back on the sand and muck, scarcelj 
a foot from the pond grass, and Sonny 
boy was holding my head in his lap. 
He had somehow saved me. 
A fine swimmer, he had strugglec 
with me, risked his own life, until hi 
feet touched bottom, up under the shel 
ter of weedy shore to the eastward ol 
Cap’n Henry’s house. 
“Father!” It was my name callec 
from a great distance, “it’s all righl 
now. We made it . . . we made it!” 
And now he was hugging me—hot! 
his strong young arms about me and 1 
could see the tears spring from hii 
eyes, although he was drenched, oi 
course, from head to foot. 
“WE” made it! 
HE had made it. 
I could think only of one thing at 
that wild moment—one vivid memory 
returning—a happy boy in a sport coat 
and a pair of his first long duck trou¬ 
sers, dancing with a bobbed-hair girl 
to jazz! 
And Mother had been afraid! 
(To be continued) 
NESSMUK’S CAMP FIRE 
(Continued from page 631) 
as this will prevent the rotting of the 
wood. Bind with fishline and then var¬ 
nish the section of the haft that come? 
in contact with the gunwale. It will 
save both woods from being “chewed 
up” and prove another notch toward 
noiseless paddling. Drill a quarter- 
inch diameter hole through the side ol 
the paddle grip about in the center. 
This will come in handy as an eye for 
a tent guy-rope when the paddle is used 
as a temporary tent pole. It will aid 
you when lashing the paddles in the 
canoe when shipping. 
In writing to Advertisers mention Forest and Stream. It will identify you. 
Page 672 
