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mmirfflai 11 A SINCLE MAN'S JOB By Rowan Qltn J' â-  â-  â- â- - Topping a tteep rise In tlio road, Grax Sheniou, who had driven hU lit- t!« two-8«atcr all the way from I^ondon to We«tniort'IuDd, nuw a sU^iibuurU bear In big black leters the words: "This Hill is DangaroM." WItb hII raiitlon ht; sllppod down the wickedly-iwUtlDK iocllDe. He turned a suarp coruLT adroitly â€" and then forced bis wheel round, savlnc hlni»«l( uui A motor-cycii»t from gravo Injury. Iniury there wa«, however, and as ao oftan bappena, It waa the iDuucent party tliat suffered. The inotor-cycllst eac&ped with nothing worse than a damaged maoblne, but Sbenton waa thrown from the oar on to the bank, up which It had rtin. One of his wrists waa bruised, and there was a mjaty cut on his brow, but It was hlg leg that had been most badly hurt. He beard someone speaking, and looking up, saw what he took to be a rather efremlnate-looltlng youth, trim in leather cap and Jacket, and neatly- fitting breeches and long boots. Sbenton regarded the motor-cycjlst with dlsupproval in bis usually good- humored eyes. •Sorry?" he cried. "Hang it all, man! What's the good of saying you ore sorry? Vou came tearing round that corner on the wrong side of the road. If 1 hadn't been trawling, we might both have been killed. . , . I<ook at iny car, you idiot." "I'm more than sorry, reaJly." the oth»r admitted. "And I don't blame you fQr being mad about things. But, you see. It's only once In the bluest of moona that I meet anybody on this hill. ... I do hope you're not bad- ly hurt?" Wlnolng, Shenton hobbled towards the car. Although no bones were broken, bis foot gave him considerable pain. "Gee!" he exclaimed softly. "It's worse than I thought. I can't wallc. and 1 don't believe I could drive even if the car were waiting in the road. And what's worse, i've an appointment to keep." It was while he lighted a cigarette that he saw his companion remove the leather cap; saw, too, with astonish- ment, a masa of auburp hair. Instjtntly the largo blue eyes and the effeminate manner were explained. Â¥^r (I second or two Sbenton stared at her. "Good Lord!" he said at last. "You're â€" you're a girl!" 3he nodded. "7*8," but I'm twenty- two, though. . . . Your legs hurt- ing you badly, 1 can t«ll that. Luckily our houle l« quite nearâ€" at the fgot of the hlfl. If you'll lean on my ahoulder, we'll soon reach it. Then I'll phone for the dootor. and get our gardenei; who knows all about oars, to fetch youra in, and my bike as well." She managed to get bim into the big, covaSorUibiy f4rul«))ed bouse, and while he lay on a couch he heard her say thrjwgfa the telephone something whleh tnttrested him ytrr much. "Yes," she said, "this is Dorothy . Il^tnoing spefilUng, doctor, and It rou CA( oome acrosfi right away " : The rest of the sentence did not mat- ter t» Sh«nton. It waa the mention oX h«r Qams which B«t him thinking, '•When «)ie rejoined him. be aald, hesitatingly: "I heaVd you give your name to the doctor, and If you're Ml«» Manning. I suppose you must bs t^e daughter of Mr. David Manning? And this must be his house, Barrogate Lodge?" PW a second or two a little frown puckered her brdW. "Ah, I think I see." she said at \aMt. "'Ar« yon the Mr. Oray Shenton who wai comtrfg to interview father about that engineering pivt In Peru?" "Yes," SlientAn admlltod. "I know I was near to the jiouse, but I didn't know how near, and If " he snillnd as he said Ihte â€" "we tiadn't met as we didt Miss Manning, I'd have gone to the ylllage to make Inqulrleti." There was a short pauHe before Dor- othy aald, haU-deflautly. half-pleadlng- ly: "You've been tremendously decent about things, and I'm going to enk a f.avor. Whnn my father comos In, don't give me away, will you? I mean about my coming up the hill the way I did? If he knetr that I'd been to blame for this a'-rldent, he'd put a stop t» my motorlog." I "I'll promise that," said Shenton. "if ' you'll promise Uiat youll never take j risks again." I "That's settled, thev." ate ««M. "an^ I now I'm going to loave yuu (or a bit The doctor will bo here soon." Half an hour lat«'r, after the dootor bad called, and told Shenton he must rest for several days, David Manning, of Manning & Hurst, Mining Kngtn- eery, was shaking band^j with bis would-be employee. "No uio your j»rorrylng about things, or thinking you'll be a troublo to us," ho remarked. "I'm only Uiankful that It w^s^t't worse, and thankful, too, that ny girl came off so lightly. She says that if It hadn't be^'n for your coolness and courage, she might have been killed " Later on that night Shenton discuss- ed with his host bis quallflcutlons for the post that was vacant in far-off Peru. "There It le, then," JUanning 'an- nounced at last. "You can start out immediately you're lit. By the way, you quite understand, don't you, that this is a single man's Job?" "Yes, sir," Shenton answered. "That was made cloar in your adrertlEement, and you mentioned It when you wrote asking me to come and ,3ee you." "Right! But so that there won't be any ralsuoderstaudinj; afterwards, I want \o emphedlEe the point. The par- ticular quarter you're going to Is a roughlsh place, and the climate's not too good. When 1 send you fellows there. I send the kind that are willing to take chances â€" and a man who haa a wife to look after Isn't like that." Shenton expressed hiiaselt as per- fectly contented with that condition of his en^figement: but before be bad baon in Barrogate Lodge twenty-four hours, he had begun to grow a trifle uneasy about himself. Just as he bad been upset physica<lly by a girl whom he had believed to be a boy, so now he waa upset emotional- ly by that very same gIrL When he had been in the house for three days, and had arranged to leave in the morning of tho fourth, he was definitely In love with her. At dinner on the third night of his stay, he listened smilingly, yet with gloom behind the smile, to certain good-natured words of advice from David Manning. "For your own peace of mind keep- these views of yours about the bachel- or having the best of it," Manning said. "I remember sending a very likely fel- low out to the mines, and he gave up the Job before he got there, because. If you please, he'd fallen in love with a girl travelling on the same boat. Take care that nothing of that sort happens to you, Shenton." "It won't," Shenton answered, still managing to smile. "No matter how many girls there may be on the passen- ger list, and no matter how beautiful j they may be. I shan't give a thought to one of them." Dinner over, he and Dorothy sat In tho little lounge together, while Man- ning, to whom a batch of letters had been sent on from the London office, went to his study. There was silence In the lounge for quite a long lime. It waa broken by the girl. "I suppose." she ouggested, "yoti must be looking forward very much to getting oVer to South America? You go for three years, don't you?" Ho nodded. "Yes. for three years. It'a what your father calls a single man't Job, and throe years is rather i long time. But If I make good, then-â€"" He hesitated so long that she said: "Yes, what then?" "Ob, I was rambllivg a bit." ho ans- wered. "In three years I may change my views about certain things. 'I've an idea that when they're over, I'll bo mighty glad to get back to England. I've an Ihfu, too, that I'll be going then to a girl I know, and If she's neither married nor engaged, I'll uak hor some- thing that might make hor happy." "Hut I thcMight you couldn't bo bothered with women? If you're keen about one. why don't you teil her be- fore you go away? That's what I'd do If I were you." •Shenton shook his head. "No," he said. "If you were In niy place you'd r»a!lze tliat you'd takon en a Job which you couldn't hold If you were married. You realize, too, that P.i a poor man, couldn't ask the daughter of u rich man to become engngod to you, and I wait for at leaet three years." um m mnrnismi Trap* for AmatourH^to mmI Caropcwera. The popularity of brya^caat oonearta remedy (mr theft, and eonaeqnently ha baa given a tremendous Impatiu to . ahould guard feia manuscript. '*'* song-writing by amateurs. | But the moat aertoua method of ex> Everybody knows that a song may i ploiting amat«ur songwriters Is one make a fortune. "A Perfect Day," of ; carried out by bogus muel« publisbera.' which more than four million copies ' These men advertise for manuscripts.' His hlgh'iebs the white rujah of Sarawal^with Kyan chiefs from Dutch Borneo. He rule; over 40,000 equare miles ot territory containing a popula- tion of half a million. "Oh, well," said Dorothy as she rose. "I hope that you gat on splendld-ly. I'm â€" I'm going up to my room now, but I'll bo sure to see you before you go oft to-morrow." With a smile and a "good night," she left him. und looking after her, Shen;. ton said to himself, not without some- thing of bitterness: "A single man's Job! Ah, well! In any case a eiugle man like me wouldm't stand an earthly chance of winning a girl like Derothy." On the morning of the next day he went to look over h!,^ car, which had been repaired. He was going to sell It in order to add to his tiny capital. He had not thought to find anyone in the ganige, but Dorothy was there In her trim motor-cy<;ilst kit. Unseen, he watched her place a great bunch of flowers on the seat beside that which he would occupy. He heard her say in an unsteady voice, a,s she laid them there; "You won't lasit long for him, but If only he'd give me the chance of waiting those three years. . . ." Turning suddenly, she saw him. I "You â€" you didn't hear?" she whis- pered. ^ "I did." he said. "I heard, but I can't believe It. I d'Idn't dare tell you, 'Dorothy. It was you I was Ulking obout laat night. I wanted you to guess, a-nd yet I didn't want you to guess. It didn't seem fair, but now â€" now if you'll wait " "I won't need to," ehe told him. "I made a fool of myself last night in I front of father. I toW him how I felt about you, and he said that If you said .anything. . . . Gray, I can't be- I lieve It, but now you're gofng to stay in London, and work at tho head office. And I â€" 1 shall live where you work." Sbenton did not return to London that day. He waited till the end ot the week, and when he did go, he -had two wer» fiold, founded an immense pub- lishing businese. It is not surprising, therefore, that many people make tbeir first flight In authorship by writing a aong. Since there is no recipe for popular aongs, who can say that they may not hit on the right ingredients and produce some- thing that wlU sell like hot cakes? For such literary novlcee there are many trape, and unless they are wary they are likely to fall into one or m9re of them. A common dodge is fradulently offer- ing to compose mtisio to words. Many trlekaters ar6 practislnjg this swindle, and consequently amateur authors shouId.be careful in sending money to persons of whom they know nothing. An everyday occurrence, too. Is stealing songs. Swindlers get hold «f songs on some pretext, and then, with periiaps a little adaptation, paas them off as their own. Thi* kind of theft is Terjr dlfflcuK to cope with, because of the dlfBcnlty ot proving it There was actually a big lawsuit in the U.S. over the author- ship of "TIpperary," an old lady claim- on receiving which they write in glow-, ing term* to the authors, expressinc, confidence in the success of tbe^orks.j and "accepting" them ob condition , that a certain sum 1* paid towards the; cost of production. Sometimes this requeat for moner; makes an author auspicious, with the result that he holds his hand. In gen~ eral, however, the amount asked for is sent and there the transaction, as far as the dupe is concerned, ends. He. hears nothing more from the "publish- ers," and If he writes to them bis let- ter Is returned, endorsed "Gone away.", TbousaLds of«amateur song-writers have been swindled In this way. Onej of them, a woman, believing the stock) yarn that a production of her was ai "winner," raised twenty-five dolIar»k partly by pawnlag cMtaln necessaries,'^ and partly by borrowing, and sent this sum to the "publishers." Since then- &be has both written to and inquired! at their former address, but she has' been unable to get Into touch with' them. In a aimilar manner a man was rob- bed of one hundred dollars, which, by. CROSS-WORD PUZZLE i I r" H â-  ~ 7 ^^ 9 1 â-  10 II i Ii.' 13 mT lU" iT ||H 1 19 I â- I â-  I p i 15 ST Vs it" ST J lb • m ^ r 30 5r m 33 â-  B â- n 1 37 38 1 HO HI 41 H3 44 4? ii 4fc Ii H7 48 â-¡ 1 »i " «> THI It ITCmM TIONAk SYND CATL ing that she had been robbed of it She the exercise ot much thrift, he had; put by for a rainy day. Amateur aong-writers, therefore, should beware of l>ogus composers and| music publishers. The only safe course; was under the Impression that Mr, I Harry Williams, of California, fathered it, whereas its author was Henry James Williams, living In Birmingham. When an. English publL&her gave evi- dence to this effect her cat8« collapsed. Generally, indeed, a writer has no for them is to treat with men and flrmal ) - of repute, who are certain to deal with them honorably. companions, bis employer and future father-in-law, andrâ€" his future bride. SUGGESTIONS FOR SOLVING CROSS-WORD PUZZLES Start out by fillini; In the words of which you feel reasonably sure. These will give you a clue to other words crossing them, and they In turn to itiU others. A letter belongs in each white space, words starting at the numbered squares and running either horl2ontally or vertically or both. HORIZONTAL 1 â€" Commotion 6â€" EccleslastIo 9â€" Individual 10â€" Non-prof esalonat 12 â€" Likewise not 13 â€" Outfit 14 â€" Rushes tumultuously 1»â€" Stain 17â€" Mllk-IIke 19 â€" Container 20â€" Velp 22 â€" Imitation 24 â€" Spanish title 2ftâ€" Scrupulously exact 28â€" Looks 29 â€" Novice 80â€" Large sized 81 â€" To engrave with add 83 â€" lonie (abbr.) 88â€" Scrutinize 8ftâ€" Announcements 39 â€" Tibetan gazells 42 â€" Young dog 43-â€" Through 45â€" Member of ancient 7'trtar race 4ftâ€" Employ 47â€" Hall 43 â€" Taxing the patlente 49â€" Enclosed VERTICAL 1â€" Steade 2 â€" Combining form meaning "( 3 â€" Implore 4â€" Group 6â€" Funeral pile 6 â€" Terminate 7â€" Kind of bean 8 â€" Threefold 11-^Rullng powers 14 â€" Cooking utensil 1»â€" Allege 17â€" A written eatire 38â€" A dance 19 â€" Mediterranean Island 21 â€" Religious devoutneee 23â€" Orled grate 24 â€" Small soft lump 28â€" Harass 27 â€" Conspieuous Service Cross (abbr.) 29â€" Instructed 3^â€" Detestation 84â€" At preeent 38 â€" Ginger (tiang) 37 â€" Ruffian 38 â€" Ball o^yarn 40 â€" Belonging to us 41 â€" Soma 43 â€" Chum 44â€" BlMlsal sharactar What Causes "Singing" in the Ears? Hearing is due to vibrations of air beating upon the tiny drum of our ear, which are translated into sounds to be picked up by the brain. The "singing" may be due to several causes. It may not be real sound at all, but an inflammation which makes the nerves work as though responding to sound. In this cade our brain gets the impreeslon of hearing when tliere is really nothing to hear. - Certain drugs, too, will produce this effect. Again, the tube whose purpose It Is to regulate the air preasure in the ear may have gone wrong, perhaps as the effect cf a cold, in which case our bal- ance of air will be out of proportion; and we listen to the tiny beats of our own blood, enormously magnified by tho drums of the ears. Or the wax which is always forming 88 a result of tiatural secretion may not be removed quickly enough. This hardens, and here again we are liable to get an improper pressure, Ju»t as though something; were accidentally touching a real drum, resulting In the sound we know as "singing." Travels 13,000 Miles to Tell of Slaying of His Comrade W. 0. Clark, of Dunedin, New Zea- land, arrived in l^ondon recently after traveling 13,000 miles to toll the story of the murder of a comrade, which he witnessed in Cologne in 1919. "Tho New Zealand Government," he told a "Daily Mail" reporter, "has sent nve to give evidence about the death of Private Cromar, of the Otago Regi- ment, New Zealand, whom I saw shot dead on February 7, 1919. I expect to go to Cologrne in a few days! time." At the beginning of the Allied oc- cupation on the Rhine a band of Ger- hian youths swore to cut off the hair of all g:ins who fraternized with mem- bers of the army ot occupation. On the day he met his death Private Cro- mar talked with a girl who was sitting on the same bench in a park. Good Cheer. People soon tire of being uplifted, as' they grow weary of standing on tlptoe.j' When a man {s left contemplating the! drab routine of life once more after a;.. vision on the mountain top he mu£t make the inspiration he receives int one crowded, glorious hour serve himi for many working days. He cannot soon expeot the electrification and the' excitement to return. But the plain and homely virtue ot ' good cheer will companion every day,. If we permit, and if it does not lift us to dizzy and exhilarating heights, ' neither does it let us sa'g way down to' , the very nadir ot depression after we have soard to the zenith of delight. Qood cheer is a simple thing. It is not a costly program of entertainment and it rune up no big tills in a play- ' house or a ballroom. It Is a game , which any one can play, needing no expensive outfit It can take place within the confines ot a sickroom; it can even go on in one's own mind. The' best thing about the game Is the bene- fit to the spectators. So many sports are grood for the player and none be- sides. But this one helps and -lifts all within a striking radius of the genial disposition. Fortunately, good cheer Is Incurable. Its germs find lodgment and are scat- tered like motes of the sunbeam's morning gold. Laughter Is a bid for laughter; delight is even more con- tagious than sorrow. How the world rewards Its fun- makers I To borrow the old name of the dingers who brought good cheer, they might be called the gleemen,; Mankind has need ot all the mirth «j Mark "Twain or Stephen Leacock, a Chaplin or a Harold Lloyd can bestow. Answer to last week's puzzle: IhlClHl Q â-¡ BOQ QOSI m @ l>i III iMI III MM I I 1 1 'i Ml iL( I I agiu amasuj oqs; Elderly Artist Rosa Bouheur was seventy when she painted her famous picture, "Horses Tramping Out Wheat." 1 L A P â-  c A, U U K L 1 M E R A, c T E A |Y R 1 P A N C t C C S A P Knockers do not kill me â€" they kill l)usin«ss. They are the persons who sift sand into the gear boxes of pro- gress. m a Qua lacaa n s Men eat, sleep, and .slack too much,; breatho too little, don't drink suffi- cient water, and think too little. This is the scathing criticism of a doctor who lectured recently .t\ London. •9- MUTT AND JEFFâ€" By Bud FUher. Now We Know Why So Many Auto Accidents Occur Th?5e Days vifftyatmj-*-mimmf9imm