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can Indian told him a tradition of an
ancient and noble tribe that dwelt in
Catalina island long before the white
men came, a tribe that vanished,
leaving no trace.
The scientist "decided that some
trace of them MUST exist. So he
went to the island and started dig
ging along' Avalon bay.
Black, hard sand showed signs of
burning. Delving into it, he found it
was the site of an ancient sacred fire,
kept alive day and night, year after
year, perhaps, by a race that wor
shiped there and used it for a pyre to
burn its honored dead.
His pick struck a human skull,
with a strange conical shell resting
on it. He dug around nd under and
unearthed the skeleton of a giant,
crouching, with his treasures in his,
These were arrow and spear heads,
curious wampum made of carved fish
vertebrae, rude knives and needles,
mortars, pestles and carved shells,
all different from ordinary Indian
relics, and a strange, fiat stone, bear
ing unknown symbols, that may have
been a calendar.
As the air touched the long-buried
bones most of them crumbled to
dust. There remained the skull, jaw
bone, teeth and bones of one foot,
proving the size and strength of the
man. And this is . his story, as the
doctor interprets it:
"I was a chief of our island tribe.
We were eight feet tall and very
3trong, but lived in peace, caring not
for conquest Our senses were keen,
our nerves were steady. Our food
was fish" -and,, the fruit, grain" and
roots that nature gave, Therefore
we toiled little. ' .
"We were perfectly to our environ
ment. Disease was almost unknown.
I lived over 100" years you see how
my teeth, still sound, slowly wore
down to the bone. Old age came
easily, with little pain and death was
a kindly friend. But a fierce, bloody
race came and destroyed us."
"Such was this prehistoric Ameri
can," says Dr. Furstenan. "And WE
are decadent. Our eyes and ears are
dull. Our teeth decay, our jaws;
weaken ard recede, our chests nar
row, our stature dwindles. Colds,
headches, rheumatic pains assail us.
The pressure and complexity of life
wreck our nerves and fill our sani
tariums. Canned fruit and much
clothing make us frail. After a fitful,
discontented life, disease drives us to
a painful and premature death.
"We do not fit our environment.
"If we could only get back to na
ture like that old Indian!"
DIARY OF FATHER TIME
Eighty-four years! ago a British
naval officer -vas, by special permis
sion, of the tJmiralty, allowed to fit
his ship with paddles which were
worked by winches on the main deck.
No doubt he though himself a par
ticularly ingenious person, being un
! aware that the Chinese used this de
vice to propel certain of their boats
thousands of years before, the only
difference being that instead of men
to turn the windlass, they used oxen.
Thousand of years passed with
practically little achieved toward in
creasing the pace of ocean-going
vessels from the time that the pre
historic man in a fit of laziness hit
Upon the idea of using a sail to aid
him in propelling his dug-out up to
the time of the steamboat. As though
to make up for this delay, the voyage
across the Atlantic from England to
America takes fifteen days less to
day than it did eighty years ago.
Slice the pineapples in slices quar
ter of an inch thick. Cut into pieces,
being very careful not to get any of
the core. Drop these into fritter bat
ter and drop into hot deep fat Fry.
deep brown. Sift powdered sugar
over and serve very hot
A slice of pineapple, ice cold, with
powdered sugar, sprinkled over,
makes a pleasant change from ber
ries or other fruit for breakfast