Analy High School - Azalea Yearbook (Sebastopol, CA)

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didn’t realize how great was the wrong done his mother and himself. It was the weight of that murder that whitened the beautiful crown of brown hair and bent her poor shoulders. Now he was on his way to avenge that deed, and he would. At dark the desert lay behind him and before him the foothills. When the moon rose it shed its light on a sm,all camp, a tired horse and a ranger. The cool air rested both horse and rider, and after a short sleep they were on their way. It was very early. The moon was still queen of the sky, but her light was waning. At sunrise he w x as near the town he had started for. Desert Pass was just in the edge of the foot-hills on the other side of the range of mountains. To him it looked uninteresting and uninviting. The rider dismounted at the general merchandise store. He dropped the reins of his horse and left him to nibble the grass of the spring rains, and entered the store. There were several people in the place, who stared at him until his back was turned upon them, and then buzzed away among them¬ selves. He paid no attention to anyone, b ut walked straight to the counter. He was not looking for friends or friendship, but for an enemy and trouble, and he usually got what he looked for. The store was small, dirty and behind it was a blacksmith shop. The odor of burning hoofs filled the air. A fat, dissipated man with small dark features entered from the blacksmith shop and came up to the counter. “Can you tell me where I can get a room and board!” the rider asked in his naturally pleasant way. The old fellow shrugged his heavy shoulders and sneeringly answered, “I ain’t a selling board and room; I’m a sellin’ groceries an’ terbaecer.” “You’re not selling anything to me,” returned the rider, and with a look that shot fire, but had the effect of a chill on the storekeeper, he left the building. He paused on the platform and stamped his foot, t o shake the dust from his boot, then turning asked of a tousle-headed boy sitting by the hitching post: “Say, partner, who’s that fat brute in t 1 ere?” The boy smiled back with a sympathetic answer, “That’s old Colonel Gee; ain’t he an old crank, though?” The child had made a friend of the rider and asked, with his large blue eyes wide open: “What’s your name?” and in the same breath, “Do you ride that bay horse over there?” “You iust call me pard.” He knew it was best to keep his name to himself, with the business that he had before him. PAGE 14

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4 4 4 NDER a dark sky, a weary rider on a tired, plodding- horse, slowly advanced from the north. A streak of opal dawn lit the east and shed its golden light across the desert, and even on the mountains in the west, until the sand looked.like grains of gold. The rider lifted his head and, reining his weary horse, turned his face toward the western mountains. He saw the rosy light that had turned them to gold, and his face bright¬ ened, as if the light was reflected from them on his drooping spirits. Then he straightened his broad, young shoulders, and, pressing his lips together, again began his journey. As the sun rose his face became more visible. His long, dark lashes shaded eyes so dark that it was almost impossible to tell whether they were brown or blue. They looked straight ahead and burned with a fiery hatred. His nose was almost straight and his lips were full, though pressed tightly together, either with pain or deep determin¬ ation. His skin was tanned, but on each cheek was a ruddy glow that told of his strength and health. The sun rose higher and the heat increased. It seemed to the rider that the mountains would disappear at intervals and he would face an endless waste. After hours and hours of scorching heat, the sun was seen on the downward slope toward the spot somewhere in the longed-for mountains. A picture of his widowed mother burned unceasingly in his brain. The hateful name Murray beat in his ears. His father was murdered by that man. He remembered the last, dying words of his father: “Avenge my death, little son; promise me that you will.” He had promised, young as he was, and hardly knowing the mean- irg of those painfully gasped words. He remembered the face of Murray faintly; a large, round face, so hateful to his memory now. He (Out nf the IVscrt By FRANCES HOWARD, ' 22 (SECOND AWARD) 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 PAGE 13

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“Say, boy, do you know where I can get room and board for awhile! ” ‘Gee, I sure wish we could give it to you, but our house is so little now that Sis hasn’t enough room,” was the reply, followed by a deep sign. “Say, pard,” he drew the name out unfamiliarly— “That’s right, kid. I’m your Pard.” “I’ll tell you,” he continued. “Mrs. Valade has a room and she only lives two doors from us. The guy that lived tnere got killed in a tight on the range about a week back and he said he’d leave his room to the next stranger that hit this town. Old Colonel’s son killed him.” “Great; lead me to it.” A few hours later “P,ard” was settled. The boy was there doing little favors to help his new friend. “Well, kid, we’re done,” and the rider sat down on the edge of his bed. The boy sat down on his roll of blankets and they looked at each other for a moment. Then, for the first time, the man analyzed the fine features of the child. Big, blue eyes; golden, curly hair; rosy, rounded lips and a fair complexion. “H’m; did you say something about a sister!” he asked slowly of the lad. “Yes, Sis is older than 1 am, lots older, and she is so good to me.” Then his face brightened and he .added, smiling: “Gee, but she hates to see me fight, though.” Next day little Dan was up to see the stranger. “Gee, but it’s lonesome down at our house, Pard. Won’t you come down?” This question greeted “Pard” as soon as he .appeared on the scene. The rider was the kind who never went where he wasn’t invited, un¬ less he had to, but this time he had to, and anyhow Dan had invited him. He must see that sister. He accepted the child’s invitation, and in a few moments was taking long strides toward the white gate, with the boy at his side. The introduction that the child gave the two when they met proved the careful bringing up that his sister was giving him. After a pleasant evening on a neat little porch, the man took his leave. Through little Dan they felt very well acquainted. “Come down whenever you wish,” the girl told him; “you know that you’re welcome.” He took it for granted that he was welcome. Anyway, he did come back, the very next evening. Many an evening was passed there. Evenings were cool and the porch so inviting, especially when Ethel PAGE 15