Analy High School - Azalea Yearbook (Sebastopol, CA)

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flmrieft %xm$nt£ By ADELAIDE HAWKINS, ’22 (Honorable Mention) on, stood on, jumped on, because it is just a rather nice, peaceful old stump. It was in the year eighteen seventy-five. It was a dark night, the full moon being hidden by a mass of clouds. A light wind softly wailed througs the forest near the little trading post town of Sebasto¬ pol. The woods thinned, stretching away in a plain to the town of Santa Rosa. A beat of horses’ hoofs steadily approaching could be heard. Along the rough road came the old mail coach. At is entered the edge of the wood it stopped. Suddenly, voices called sharply, a shot rang out. Then breaking into the stillness that followed came the sound of swiftly falling footsteps through the forest. A dark man in course clothes with hat pulled low emerged from the underbrush. In his hand he carried a bag apparently heavy. He paused, glanced quickly about then fell to his knees at the foot of a tree and began hastily to dig with his knife. He worked feverishly glancing nervously over his shoulder from time to time. He stooped to place the bag in the hole he had dug when a cry cut the air, a ter¬ rible cry of fear and pain. A shot, then that horrible cry again and presently hasty footsteps approached. When quite near they hesi¬ tated, then came on less surely. The man on his knees beneath the tree had remained as if frozen but now he sprang up and took cover in a clump of bushes. The underbrush parted and a girl with pale face and one hand pressed to her bosom where dark stains were showing through her jacket, stumbled blindly and fell with her face upturned across the partially buried bag beneath the tree. Yet when her sobs ceased, still footsteps beat through the forest and a coarse voice threatening and cursing called, “Bill, you thieving devil, bring back that swag.” The footsteps and angry voice passed and were lost in the distance. The moon broke out from the clouds and fell full on that pros¬ trate figure and the white upturned face with the closed eyes. Then out from his hiding came the man and shaking stooped to remove that silent figure. Yet even as he did so the dark eyes opened and gazed at him. What entered the soul of the man then ? A dark rage 21

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started to flee, but the old Maru forbade them to leave, so they re¬ mained in the village, now as still as nature before a thunder storm. The lava came quickly. It sounded like all the thunder in the universe let loose. The people ran before it, but it engulfed them. They prayed upon their knees to the Fire Goddess, and it flowed over them, mocking their last shrieks with sullen hisses. The old chief was the only one saved. “He has wandered many years, but now he may return home as his daughter has forgiven him. For do you not see that the sun streams more brightly through the trees? And hark! I hear the birds of Para¬ dise singing their sweetest songs. They sing only when some sinner is forgiven, and it is he.” The old story teller’s face was lit up by a smile of joy supreme, and the children wondered. Then their attention was attracted to another person, who was shouting and crying far down the street. When they turned their eyes once more to where the old man sat they were wonder stricken for where the old man sat was only a gap¬ ing crack that had not been there before. “He was the chief,” said an awe-stricken youngster, “He came from the earth, and he returns. The mystery was a mystery to them no longer, so they started after the man, who was now near them, for boys are very quickly turned from one amusement to another. The sun went down and the long western twilight rolled upon the drowsy world, and all was silence once more. Wqt pesert By GEORGE WINKLER, ’21 (Honorable Mention) In the land of the Western Desert, Where fortune seekers go. There is a law in that land of hope That every man must know. Three columns of smoke in the sky by day; By night three fires aglow; This is the law of the desert That every man must know. It’s the signal of help for the dying. From the men who answer the call; A wild life is the desert one. Where men die where they fall. 20

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distorted his face and quick as a flash he drew the knife and plunged it into the soft body which quivered and lay still but those gazing eyes did not close. Now again a horrible cry rent the air but it came from the man for the lips of the girl were pale and still yet the eyes gazed on. The man looked with terror at the sight then giving a mad scream fled through the woods. All was silence in the forest and after a while when long drawn wailing howls began nobody heard them and when gray shadows came stealing to that fatal tree there was not one to stop them. The man in Sebastopol waiting for his sister came to the conclusion that she had decided not to come and went tranquily on with his business. “Bill” lost his mind and memory and nature deftly covered all traces. At the corner of the baseball grounds is a stump, a very ordinary stump, bleached by the sun and beginning to decay, yet it was once part of a proud tree and its roots spreading mightily inclose a heap of buried treasure. ®o yet By ALICE BLACKNEY, 71 John Jacinto, a youthful chap. Donned his coat and put on a cap. He ran to her window and in the shade. He played a beautiful serenade. Johnny warbled all through the night, All the stars had taken flight. He threw down his fiddle in meek despair. For Mary came not to greet him there. Walking down to the gate ahead, Johnny once more turned his head. And looking back to the house of yore. He saw “To Let” upon the door. 22