Black Magic

The Whistler! Another signal mystery! And the Whistler! And I know many things, for I walk by night. I know many strange tales, and many secrets hidden in the hearts of men and women, who have stepped into the shadows.

Yes, I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak. Tonight the signal oil companies, marketers of signal's famous, go farther, gasoline and motor oil, bring you another in a series of strange tales by the Whistler.

A story of darkest Africa and two strangers who brought it no light. Listen to black magic. The first I'd like to read you what the driver of a 1929 lassale thinks of Signal's Go Father service.

Wilfred Pollard of Los Angeles writes, naturally, when a car gets 15 years old, parts wear out, and are difficult to replace. My radiator cap, for instance, is rusted so it no longer hosts plate. Stop figured that my signal station on Western and Harold Way, as on three occasions, been considerable time with pliers and wire repairing it.

Pop does it without asking, and with a smile that makes you feel like you're doing hymnofavors. It's this kind of service over and above the line of duty that makes me like to trade with signal oil dealers.

Many folks are surprised these days to find signal dealers going out of their way like that to please a customer. But there's a reason for it. signal dealer is permanently in business for himself. He knows that the best way to keep his business good year after year is to give you thorough reliable service that will keep you his steady

customer. Such service is the reason so many drivers who want their cars to go farther are switching to signal stations. Why don't you drive in and get acquainted with your neighborhood signal dealer this way now? The Whistler. The Miss of Equatorial Africa. A land of violent of rain than oppressive heat.