Analy High School - Azalea Yearbook (Sebastopol, CA)

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only. It was a safe hiding place when my pursuers were not looking at it. I waited, and my heart was palpitating with great velocity. The barbarians! There comes the chief with his long bone spear pointed at me. Ah! he sees me! His spear is poised! His arm is drawn back! Oh! I die the death of a dog! But hark! The chief falls! A javelin is in his side. The barbarians turn and run. What new and dreadful enemy is this. A moment later I know. They are scouts, picked by Caesar, who have been searching the country. How joyful was I that I could now return to the camp. After a short time we came in sight of the great “castra,” with the shields of the soldiers gleaming in the sun that was again shining in its original lustre. As we passed the gates great Caesar, himself, said to me with great kindness, “I’m glad my scouts found you. I thought that you were lost.” It’s no wonder all the army likes its imperator. He always takes an interest in their private affairs. We are to move camp in the morning, so there is no haste, but hold! an army is coming across the plains towards our camp and I must (Finis) Willard B. Akers. 22

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CL, tr- O i the ground at both ends to furnish the support for the roof, a mat of bulrushes and flags, which were so closely fitted to- » gether that I believe the rain could not penetrate them. One end of the huts was left open, which disclosed the fact that they had few articles of furniture, other than their weapons, consisting of bone spears, and a few cooking utensils, such as earthen pots. u But it was not my lot to enjoy the shelter of one of these f mansions. My captors hurried me to an old oak, the inside a of which had been hollowed out so that it was slightly larger than the room required by a human being. They rushed me ' - inside oi this, and secured me therein by passing thongs it around the trunk of the tree so that I was veritably a prisoner r tho not bound. d But hark! Misericorde! A rumble filled the air; the sky 3 , became overcast; the rain fell; the wind blew; the lightning s dazzled; the thunder deafened. n A crash, and the tree which had held me captive had e fallen headlong, broken many huts, frightened the natives, and ). left me free. p Free at last! What should I do? The natives decided e this for me. From every direction came human beings, man 1 . and woman, youth and maiden, boy and girl, each with his s ottering of gold or silver, bewildering me with their obse- n ciation, surprising me with their eagerness, almost smothering me in their haste, and, kneeling before me, they left such a t. mound of articles around me that some stray god might have d taken me for a mummy that had been buried in tumuli, d Selecting the most valuable jewels and gold ornaments, p I hastily left the village in the direction in which I thought g the army might be. I knew that the storm would prevent it from moving, so I quickly traversed as many miles as possible. But I had not been on the road long, when upon hearing a shout I turned and saw following me the whole savage host Not to be caught as I had been twice before, I dodged into the underbrush, and, still carrying my load with me, I endeavored to evade my tormentors. After wading thru several streams, and hiding my traces in every possible manner, I sat down to rest. Ecce! By Jove! The sound of moving feet! My cap- tors! Misericorde! What shall I do? I crawled under an old, half-rotten log, which offered protection on three sides 21

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i JRefrmes Have you ever searched and fathomed depths Of the mystery art called Dreams? Have you ever thought of life in another Way than which it seems? Have you ever stopped to dream a while As the busy hours fly? Or are you one of those who let The time go dragging by? When evening comes a’stealing in, And the hard day’s work is o’er, Just embark your thoughts for Dreamland And sail to Dreamland’s shore. For there you’ll find a restfulness That before has been unknown, And the best of all is what you find May be justly called your own. And when your barque is slowly drifting Near the wondrous shore, There’ll be revealed to you a life You’ve never found before. Just fathom out that dreamy art, And drifting far away, You’ll find that ere how hard the work You’ll face anew the day. —Don Walker. 23