Analy High School - Azalea Yearbook (Sebastopol, CA)

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' Clje Molten Crescent By JENESSE KING [THIRD AWARD] I CHOY, son of Lee Foo, raised liis heavy eyes to Lo Hun, keeper of the Incense Boom. Softly he spoke, but clearly. “To enter the room-death. Should I return to my Yuen brothers without the Crescent, Death! To you, O Lo Hun, I offer the jewels of our king—sapphires, diamonds, rubies, pearls, gold-.” Lo Hun stopped Ai Choy by a movement of his hand. “The Golden Crescent,” he said slowly, “is not for the Yuen tong. Well I know of the Crescent’s magical worth, besides its great beauty and moneyed value. No mem¬ ber of the Yuen tong may enter the Incense Room of its rival tong, the Hop You. Nor can jewels or gold tempt its keeper, Lo Hun. Death it means to you to enter the room, Ai Choy. Death it means should you return without the Crescent to your Yuen brothers. 0, Ai Clioy, kneel to Buddha and pray for thy life, for Ai Choy does not enter the Incense Room.” A smile tipped the corners of Lo Hun’s mouth upwards as he thrust the heavy bolt thru the iron door in Ai Choy’s face. Many years gone by, Lee Foo, president of the Yuen tong, had won from Kangste, the devil’s robber, the Golden Cres¬ cent. Kangste had come from the bowels of China, and with him had come the Golden Crescent. The history of the Cres¬ cent was a tale of robbery and murder, for its magic had been a story of wonder since Eye Sing, the mighty ruler of the Em¬ pire. Lee Foo, president of the great Yuen tong, had won the Crescent. Kangste had disappeared. Now the Yuen tong had kept the Crescent for half a century, for it was always well guarded. Ai Choy, son of Lee Foo, was the youngest guard that had ever watched over the treasure. Then Lee Foo, who was old and weak, was taken ill, ,and as he lay on his pallet, the Golden Crescent was stolen by the Hop You tong. Page 21

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Cris. Jest do as I tell you, an’ let that soft heart of yourn melt cl ean away.” Nervously they seated themselves about the cheery kitchen to wait for Molly while Dave dozed off peacefully in the big comfortable bed. Martha and Capt’n Cris found their cour¬ age ebbing when at last Molly’s knock sounded at the door, but Chester drew himself up his full 13-year-old height as he .flung open the door. There stood his mouther, a picture of fury with her ragged garments dripping, her bare arms and legs red and purple from the cold, hair hanging in limp strings, her whole figure tense and her eyes ablaze. Slowly she opened her lips, “Get David and hurry up.” But Chester did not move a fraction of an inch, or even so much as bat an eye. “Well, you Martha and Cris, you think your’re pretty smart, don’t you; but if you’ll be so kind as to show me where Dave is we’ll not be bothering you any longer. “Dave,” she called, “Dave,” and Dave thus rudely awakened called in a querulous voice, “Chester, Chester, it’s mother. Quick, she’s after us—she’ll ketch us and then she’ll beat us,” and the piti¬ ful little voice ended in a long wailing cry. Suddenly a mask seemed to drop from Martha’s face, leaving it free of all its hard lines, and with a pitiful catch in her voice she brushed past Chester into the bedroom. Long they heard her low voice crooning and comforting, and with misty eyes Martha and Captain Cris slipped out of the door and left Molly alone with her boys and Jim’s! The little hut still stands among the rocks and the break¬ ers beat and foam against the cliffs calling, calling us ever, but there is no answer from the hut.

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The members of the Yuen tong appeared before Lee Foo and demanded that lie send his worthless son to the Hop You’s to bring back the Crescent. Lee Foo, weakened by illness and frightened by the wrath of his subjects, commanded Ai Choy to recover the Crescent, or die. As the mumbling Yuens heard him pronounce these words to his trembling son, Lee Foo, president of the tong, crumpled up in his pallet and lay still. After Lee Foo’s death Ai Chop set out to the Hop You tong. Stealing to the keeper’s side he begged entrance to the Incense Room, but Lo Hun repulsed him in anger. Lo Hun was old and wise, and knew Ai Choy. The Golden Crescent had not been in the hands of the Hop Yous long, and they intended to keep it. Ai Choy turned away from the barred iron door with drooping shoulders. His tong remained to be faced, and, without the Crescent—it was not pleasant to think about. Have the Crescent he must, and his staggering courage must carry him through. In the opium rooms of the Hop You tong next day a new opiunrtoaster squatted. The men in the room Iffy sleeping, breathing in the stagnant opium smoke. The opium-toaster went from one to another, offering the pipes. Such had been his work all day, toasting and offering the opium. Now, as the sun’s last rays weakly filtered through the heavily draped windows, he padded softly across the room and went out. None of the smokers noticed his departure. Lo Hun yawned lazily beside the open door of the Incense Room. The last worshipper had just filed out from bowing before the great idol. As Lo Hun stepped inside the room to look about, his eyes blinked queerly and a wan smile played over his solemn features. He glanced upwards at Buddha and at the Golden Crescent, that reared itself upon the statue’s head, shining and glowing, its jewels sparkling flames. Lo Hun prostrated himself before the idol for a mo¬ ment and then rose slowly, walking backwards with his eyes fixed upon the Crescent. Then crossing the threshold of the door, he took his enormous key and turned it in the lock. Inside the Incense Room the long oil tapers flickered, ghost like. The shadow ' s flung themselves about the room in fantastic figures and shapes. Heavy silken paintings covered the walls of the room, dragons and tigers—the power of spirit and the forces of nature. One dragon, beautifully painted, covered the wall in back of Buddha. Thru the center Page 22