Analy High School - Azalea Yearbook (Sebastopol, CA)

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their brother’s injuries; so be sure you always have your knives and pistols along with you in your belt.” “I can take care of myself and half a dozen besides,” Jack- son shouted, and to look at the set features of this rough-looking man who stood six feet and one inch in his stockings, his state¬ ment was not hard to believe. Soon he continued, You fellows just keep working for me, and when I’m governor there’ll be some nice, cozy corners for those who help to elect me.” That night when Andrew Jackson was walking down the village street, which was hardly more than a beaten forest road, two men rushed upon him from the darkness and drew their pistols and knives. Jackson, seeing that the two men were Charles Dickinson’s brothers, reached for his pistol. A bloody affray ensued, and Jackson’s shoulder was horribly slashed and shattered. He was utterly exhausted when he had put his two opponents to flight and friends bore him home. . For several days he lay weak and pale upon a bed of suffering. Then he heard that a dreadful and shocking massacre had taken place at Fort Mims and that the Creeks were committing the most awful ravages. Decisive action was necessary. There seemed to be no one to head the troops to repel the terriffic cruelty of the Indians. Andrew Jackson did not hesitate. In an instant he knew what had to be done. Haggard and feeble, he staggered from his sick bed and mustered together a band of two thousand resolute troops. One arm hung in a sling, and he was unable to mount his horse without assistance, when at the head of his army, he fondly, and affectionately bade good-bye to his wife who was the apple of his eye. For eleven days, Jackson, though suffering with his wounds and weak condition as a result of the fight with the two brothers, led his army thru the pathless wilderness, thru tangled forests and over wild ravines, to the Indian’s strongest fort at Horseshoe Bend. Here a successful attack was made upon the Indians and in a desperate, bloody battle, in which the carnage was awful, the power of the Creeks was broken forever. After this great victory Andrew Jackson led his men slowly back thru the wild rough country, homeward. His glorious suc¬ cess exalted him, for it would go a long ways in securing his elec¬ tion, and election time was near. But he felt the happiest when he thought of his wife’s rejoicing. How proud she would be at his triumph! 29

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True Devotion By SYLVER STROUT Second Prize History Story Andrew Jackson ' s general merchandise store of rough-hewn logs was the central gathering place for the small handful of back¬ woodsmen who happened to live so far from cultured circles as Lonesome Camp. Here, one day, seated on floor barrels and soap boxes, a group of rustic settlers were discussing the important topics of their neighborhood. “Well,” drawled one, “Jackson, you didn ' t have a great sight o ' trouble in being nominated ' for the governor’s chair of this ' ere state of Tennessee. The real fight an ' rub will come in gettin ' elected.” The storekeeper, a tall, lank, uncouth personage, with his shaggy red locks falling over his brow, and a queue tied with a strip of eelskin hanging down his back, kicked the heel of one heavy cowhide boot with the broad toe of the other and replied, “Yow, Pete, work or no work. I ' m going to be governor and the people ' ll have to elect me. My wife, though she don ' t say much, has set her heart on my being elected governor of Tennessee. And if she wants me to be governor. I’ll fight until I am.” “But,” put in a short, stubby fellow with large piercing eyes, “the people might not like the outcome of your duel with Dickinson. I ' m afraid, since he ' s laid up and injured for life, that the opinions of some might not exactly jibe with us that know you.” “Keep your tongue!” thundered Andrew Jackson. He didn ' t get as bad as he deserves. Any one who dares to say one word against my wife—,” the proprietor of the little store stood speech¬ less and choking with rage at thought of the daring words of Charles Dickinson, which had brought on their violent duel, in which the offender had received much the worst of it. When the man ' s fiery wrath had cooled down one of the company summoned courage to speak meekly. “Andy, I heard Charles Dickinson ' s brothers swear this morning to kill you, for 28

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As he thought of her, his hard-set features softened, a soft light illuminated his commanding eyes, and a fond smile stole to his firm, resolute lips, and he spoke softly to himself, “Heaven will be no heaven to me if I do not meet my wife there. At last the weary band reached Lonesome Camp. Andrew Jackson, worn out with the trip ' s hardships, hurriedly made his way to his home, with joyful anticipation. But the store seemed so quiet as he entered. He opened the door which led fiom the store to the rooms in which he and his wife lived. An awful terror and sickness seized him as he looked upon the tear-stained face of a neighbor woman. “Where is Mary? What ' s the matter? he cried as a grasping, clutching fear gripped his heart. The woman with sighs and moans sobbed out the short story: Mrs. Jackson had suddenly been stricken with fever and had died. Everything was blurred and dark before the eyes of the victorious general. The strong man fell to the floor, unconscious. For days and days he hovered between life and death. At last he rallied and his life was al¬ most out of danger, but he did not care to live. One evening Peter entered his room. He was the first visitor the doctor had admitted. “Well, old man, you are elected Governor. Your little fight at Horseshoe Bend turned the trick. You had better hurry and get well so that you can fill the chair. “Tell them that I will be governor under no conditions, what¬ ever, the sick man feebly but resolutely said. The visitor’s face was one big question mark. “Why Andy —, he protested. “Go, right now, I will not be Governor. That ' s settled. Tell the rest of them. As the visitor left the room the sick man staggered from his bed to a chest of drawers. From the top one he extracted the little prayer book which his wife had owned and loved so well. From between its pages he drew forth a miniature of his wife. He gazed long and sadly at the beloved face. Falling into a chair by the table he tried to read, thru blinding tears, the favorite passage of his wife ' s prayer book. Then clasping the little book in one hand, his face fell upon the likeness on the table, and An¬ drew Jackson, the wild, rough, daring man uttered a choking groan of agony, Peter and the other friends of Andrew Jackson were sorely grieved and bitterly disappointed at his refusal of the governor ' s chair—both for his sake and for their own. But Jackson did not forget his promise to those who had worked for him. In later years, as the President of this nation, he found enough “cozy corners with which to reward his old friends at Lonesome Camp. 30