Alton High School - Tatler Yearbook (Alton, IL)

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“Guess lie’s going to fight a duel with me, thought Victor, but he was much relieved when he saw that his guest was followed by another person. This intruder, unlike the first, was clothed from head to foot in sliming white; on his shield he also wore a heart, but it was snow white save for a small blot of black ; he likewise had a sword. “And who may you be? asked the Red Knight of the other. “I am the Conqueror Truth; I know without asking that you are the would-be Conqueror Falsehood.” “Correct,” said Falsehood, “and, if you are Truth, why that black blot upon your heart, and what is your mission here.'' “This black blot is an unspoken falsehood. My King has commanded me to accept your challenge of a three-round battle to blot this dark spot from off the heart of the person whom you are trying to influence.” “You accept my terms, then?” “Certainly. If you win two out of the three skirmishes, the boy is yours; if I win, he is mine.” “Correct,” acquiesced Falsehood. “Let us commence at once. The swords flashed as they came together, and an exciting battle ensued. Both knights were skilled swordsmen, and. to Victor looking on, it seemed impossible to tell who would win, but fate decided that Truth should conquer at the first encounter. Both looked wearied, but Truth was evidently more fatigued than Falsehood. The heart on the former’s shield shone as brightly as the evening star, and the black spot had almost disappeared: but the latter’s heart was a dull black scarcely visible. At the end of the second round Falsehood was the victor. His face shone like fire, and his black heart was as bright as a polished mirror; Truth’s face was ghastly pale, and his heart was almost covered by the black blot. “I am sure to win,” chuckled Falsehood, “Truth is the same as conquered now.” In the third skirmish, though Truth looked exhausted, hope inspired him, and soon Falsehood lay prostrate before his conqueror. Truth’s heart no longer contained a blot, but shone as brightly as the sun. He raised his sword above his head, and cried joyously, “Victor,” then vanished. Victor started. Had he been dreaming? Yes, he must have been. “Victor, it is half-past seven,” called his mother. 21

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“I don't believe you do, Victor; don’t worry about the matter, it’ll be all right in a day or two.” But Victor knew that he would not see his friend in a good humor the next day: the finals were but two days off, and Janies must study. “Glad I didn’t get that demerit,” sighed Victor, ‘‘I deserved it, that's true, but it would mean failure in all my studies if I had another, for I have three demerits now. Mother says I didn’t deserve Jim’s, but she doesn’t know the circumstances.” “Still,” said a voice within, “if you deserved it, why didn't you get it ? ” “That’s so,” thought Victor, as he walked out of the house to the Y. M. C. A. building. Once inside this building Victor forgot his friend, who was studying industriously, muttering every now and then, “just on account of Vic, too.” As the boys at the Y. M. C. A. were talking about old time sports sucb as dueling, Victor grew very much interested, for had not his great-grandfather fought a duel ? Dueling to Victor's mind was the most fascinating of all sports of the forgotten days. It was a late hour when Victor returned home that night, and eight o’clock next morning found him still in bed. He dressed hurriedly, ate little or nothing, and rushed off to school. When he saw Janies, his haggard look, dim eyes, and forced smile told him he had had a restless night. That evening the Y. M. C. A. held no charm for him. “But,” said he, I II read all we have in our own library about dueling, and tell tbe boys a few things. He did not, however, carry out his plan, for after reading a few pages about dueling, he threw the book upon the table saying: “Jim Richard’s face is painted upon every page of that book; no matter where I look he seems to be looking at me and begging me to help him out of his trouble. Guess I’d better go to bed.” ictor had just laid his head on the pillow when the presence of a figure in the room startled him. The visitor was clothed from head to foot in scarlet armor; on his scarlet shield was a large, black heart, while in his hand he held a sword, which resembled the dying embers on the hearth. 20

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“Now I know I was dreaming. It was mother calling me and not my victorious Knight. Just the same James won’t have to take the finals if I can help it.” For once Victor was at school early, and he found his friend there too, studying hard. “James, just a moment of your precious time. “Can’t spare it.” “You can too; you have to, so there! I’m going to see Mr. Jackson—have something to explain to him.” After much persuading James followed to the principal’s room. “Good morning, boys, any finals?” Yes------, a — that is I will have some,” said Victor. “I came to tell you that I deserved that demerit, not James.” James held his breath. What was coming next? “1 stamped on his foot just for meanness. Couldn't blame him for yelling, could you? ’’ “But, Victor, mother says I should have kept my foot under my desk, and so 1 should have.” “That doesn’t make any difference, you don’t deserve that demerit.” “Well, boys,” said Mr. Jackson, “since you both see or rather think you are to blame, I’ll cancel the demerit this time, but do not let it occur again.” Florence Weindel, ’10