STORIES AND POEMS:

THE MYSTERY OF TRUSTON CASTLE, Part I,

by Thomas Hughes........................... 2

BILLY BIGENUFF AND THE CROOKED ROAD,

by Earl Jackson .......................... 20

MESSENGER FOR LIBERTY, Part II, by Lucy Parr. 22

HARBOR MORNING, by Queena Davison Miller..... 35

A LEGEND ABOUT THE PRAIRIE DOG, by Jane Porter Meier 48

GUSTAVE, THE CLEVER SLAVE, by Frances B. Watts. 60

KNOWING ABOUT:

CLEVELAND, by Artha M. Hornbostel............... 13

GAME PARK SAFARI: In Elephant Country, by Betty Dirmeen . 16

WHAT’S CRACKIN’, by Cracky...................... 31

IT’S GREAT TO BE A DANE, by Ruth C. Salzman..... 37

I GO TO SCHOOL IN THE DARK, as told to Victor E. Haas ... 39

SEEDS AND HOW THEY GET AROUND,

by Bertha Morris Parker........................ 52

FIRST LESSONS IN SPANISH, Lesson V,

by Shirley D. Robinson......................... 58

/ PUZZLES, GAMES AND JOKES:

57 HIDDEN MENU, by Carl Buettner................... 9

QUIZ ME??, by Robert Wyndham.................. 26

ANSWERS ...................................... 30

\ JOKES, by Cracky..................................... 38

LET’S EAT!, Crossword Puzzle....................... 51

THINGS TO DO:

A TOTEM POLE FROM AN EGG CARTON, by Lee Lindeman . 10

QUICK ON THE DRAW, by Carl Fallberg........... 12

JUNIOR ARTISTS AND WRITERS ................... 28

DANES DRESS FOR HOLIDAY FUN, Cutout,

by Neva Schultz............................... 36

COOKING FUN FOR BOYS AND GIRLS, by Betty Crocker ... 4/

\ PRAIRIE DOG COLORING........................... 49

FUN WITH SEEDS, by Bertha Morris Parker....... 57

The Golden Mogezine for Boys ond Girls—Seplember, 1943, Vol. 3, No. 9. Published monthly by

the Golden Press Division of Western Publishing Company, Inc., Poughkeepsie, New York. Cooking

Fun for Boys and Girls © by General Mills, Inc. Printed in the U.S.A. © 1968 by Western Publish-

ing Company, Inc. Second-class postage paid at Poughkeepsie, New York.

THE ancient gray stone castle stood like

a proud sentinel overlooking the steep

cliffs of Truston Beach in Cornwall in south-

ern England. Many years ago the castle had

been the stronghold of the Southlands bar-

ons and their successors. It is past history

that more than one dark deed had been

done, and more than one evil plot had been

hatched against the Crown of England,

within the confines of the now crumbling

walls. In later years, Truston Castle became

the headquarters for gangs of blackhearted

land pirates. These bands of rogues were

notorious on the Cornish coast for their dar-

ing acts of piracy. No, not at sea, but on dry

land. On dark and stormy nights, the pirates

would extinguish the flaming navigation

beacons that were set on cliff tops to warn

mariners away from the dangerous rocky

coast. Sometimes they moved the flaming

beacons to trick the unwary seamen aboard

the rich merchant ships. Once the ships

were lured onto the jagged rocks, the land

pirates would row out to the stricken ships

and plunder them. As soon as the rich car-

goes had been transferred to the shore, the

villains would sink the vessels in deep wa-

ter. Needless to say, the pirates made sure

there were no witnesses left alive to tell

what they had seen. These acts of piracy

occurred, of course, many years ago, and

the old castle later became just a landmark

for passing ships.

Finally the castle became derelict; the

grounds were neglected and overrun with

weeds. Windows hung from their splintered

frames, and the panes were shattered. The

stormy Atlantic weather had buffeted the

castle on its lofty perch, but through the

years it survived, empty and deserted—or

was it completely deserted? The cause for

doubt was introduced by a twelve-year-old

boy and a simple discovery he made on the

first day of his school vacation.

The road between Truston and Flintlock

wound and climbed over hills and dropped

down into valleys below like a long, narrow

ribbon. For a distance of one mile, the road

swept past Truston Castle, but it was diffi-

cult to see the building beyond the high

hedgerows that bordered the quiet, lightly

traveled highway. Along the road, a car

traveled toward Truston Beach. In it were

Roger Travers and his dad. The look on

Roger’s face was definitely not one of hap-

piness. This was unusual, for, normally,

Roger was a boy of cheerful disposition.

What made it even more unusual was the

fact that this was the first day of Roger’s

school vacation.

“It isn’t fair,” he reflected, “having to

spend my entire summer holiday at Truston

Beach.” It had been a long time since his

last stay, and he remembered that it was a

slow, dull little seaside village where noth-

ing new ever happened. He groaned in-

wardly at the prospects of an uninspiring

three months, with only his dad’s sister,

Aunt Helen, for company. As the car

sped along, Roger’s gloom increased. "Gosh,

1’11 be bored stiff after the first day,” he

thought. His dad’s cheery voice broke in on

his pessimistic thoughts.

“Look quickly to your left, Roger. You

can see the castle between the gaps in the...