Arcata High School - Advance Yearbook (Arcata, CA)

 - Class of 1922

Page 27 of 70


Arcata High School - Advance Yearbook (Arcata, CA) online yearbook collection, 1922 Edition, Page 27 of 70
Page 27 of 70

Arcata High School - Advance Yearbook (Arcata, CA) online yearbook collection, 1922 Edition, Page 26
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Arcata High School - Advance Yearbook (Arcata, CA) online yearbook collection, 1922 Edition, Page 28
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Page 27 text:

Q W Vllilllfw ' if Q c ijiw Wllllllli fwfsex l l lfill sf ill ,fi 'flaw 7 . ' 'l'51l ly .i,i l, li Q g ,nf Xlxilll C' ,N E ll l'i?U,l 'l.-it Y ill M Q Y , ui , , ll it L 'l'i'll,llllil if il ll that T ll lllwlll 7 u so It was one of the perfect nights known only in the tropics. The "South- ern Cross" hanging low in the sky, the pale moonlight peeping inquisitively into the huts hidden in the banana grove, and the air heavy with the scent of flowers betokened the arrival of summer. A soft breeze stirred the trees, and carried the pungent breath of the purple Passion Flow er to the nostrils of Bartolo Gomez, lying in his hammock. Night life hummed softly on, broken only by the angry snarl of a tiger foiled in his hunt, or by the scream of some animal caught in the strong enveloping coils of the boa-constrictor. There was nothing to fear in this cool beautiful night, Bartolo tried to tell himself, but still he was stricken with a horrible fore- boding. One cry from him would waken the whole finca, and there, in his gent- ly swaying hammock, lay his brother peacefully sleeping. Indeed, of what was there to be afraid? His fear grew, however, with every little sound. His body was taut,, and he strained his eyes into the shadows about him. The pale moonlight resting on his face showed its ghastliness, the swarthy skin appearing almost white. His hands, holding the serapa covering him, shook, and perspiration stood out on his fore- head. It was the third night he had been unable to sleep: the third time this hor- rible fear had possessed him--a dread of something undefinable--some phantom of his mind. He put out his hand as tho to push the fear from him, and touched a small hard package. Ah! That was his goldeeHhis pesos. He was the richest hom- bre in the finca, why need he worry? Still the fear remained. It seemed to draw him to the pesosg it seemed to speak and curse him and his gold. His fingers closed convulsively on the sack. Again he lived over the actions that had brought him his pesos,-the ,dark wet night-a horse coming down the trail-f a leap and a gleam of something white and cruelva cry-the clattering hoofs of a frightened horse-silence-and then, his payment, his reward which now lay close to his heart. Bartolo closed his eyes and smiled. He lost his fear and fell asleep. It seemed but a second when he felt himself hurled from his hammock and found himself standing upright, staring into the unseeing eyes of that night rider. His hair was matted with blood, and his glassy eyes looked through Bartolo. Bartolo's mouth opened to scream his terror, but no sound came. He put out his hand, but where the man's pointing finger had been was only ashaft of pale moonlight. The man turned and walked through the grove, and, drawn bya power stronger than he, Bartolo followed. Piestro woke with a start to see the 22

Page 26 text:

lihiinfn lgagr. We have this year awakened to the fact that too much money has been spent on our annuals. In recent years it has cost the Student Body approximately one thousand dollars to put out a book worthy of the school. That is entirely too much money for a school of our size to spend in publishing an annual. Considering these facts, there were but two ways open for us to follow. We had either to print the book ourselves or not put out a 1922 edition of the "Advance" We decided to attempt the former. We have worked hard to accomplish our task, but, having finished, we believe it is worth the time we have put on it. It is our book. All the printing, including half tones and headings, we did ourselves on our own printing machine. We have endeavored to publish a book as good as, if not better than, any put out before and to cut the price in half. We have accomplished the latter, and we leave it to the reader wheth- er we have succeeded in the former. We take this opportunity to thank the Board of Trustees of the Arcata Union High School for purchasing the printing machine which has made this edition of the "Advance" possible. The printing of the "Advance", however, is not the only thing which can be accomplished by the machine. From time to time we need to have printed posters for games, advertisements for plays, tickets, etc. All this can be done on the printing machine and expenses thus lessened. When we consider the reduction of expenses and the satisfaction derived from doing our own work, we are certain that the Trustees made a thoughtful and a very wise move when they purchased the printing machine for the school. 21

Page 28 text:

figure of his brother walking down the moonlit path, his money clasped close to him. He called to him softly, but Bartolo did not heed. Slipping out of his hammock, wonderingly, he followed. Out of the grove floated the man, his dead eyes staring ahead, his gaping wound ever bleeding, his face white and lifeless. Behind him, mechanically walked Bartolo, frantically clutching his gold, and, closely following Bartolo, trod his brothter, Piestro, across corrals, through the pastures, and into the dark menacing forest. The air was damp. Each step along the path crushed some delicate flower whose aroma filled the night air. Here a snake, going on its sly hunting, glided across the path, and there, two large eyes gleamed menacingly from the darkness. On walked the three--on and on-- deeper and deeper into the dark scented gloom. Then ahead the moonlight streamed on the "Campo", a well known swamp and fever spot of the tropics. The man paused on the edge of its dark grass-crested mud flats, then float- ed on across it. Without hesitation, Bar- tulo followed. Piestro stopped abruptly on the edge and in sudden terror voice sink- dark near him, sank his tried to call to Bartolo, but his choked. Bartolo walked onward, ing deeper and deeper into the death, until at length he stopped the center, looked frantically about and, with a long terrified scream, slowly into the dark murky depths, arms upraised beseechingly towards that blood-covered figure hovering silently above. That was long ago, and to-day the Mexicans speak of it in awed tones, and Guadalupe, the old guide, is the only one who will lead you to the spot. After pro- mising many pesos, I persuaded the old native to take me there. The swamp is gone now, and in its place is a small clearing covered with the luxuriant growths of the tropics. In the center of this clearing, stands a stump strangely like a human figure bathed in the warm atmosphere of the south and covered with age-old moss. As I stood looking at the weird spot, Guadalupe leaned forward, and, crossing himself, whispered ina cracked, awe-stricken voice, f'That stump, Senor, see, it is the body of Bar- tolo, encased in its tomb of mud, and see, in his upheld arms, the sack of pesos." I looked more keenly and saw, clutched in the arm-like branches of this weird stump, an object, which, in the pale moonlight, glittered strangely like gold. The air was still. This was indeed a place of death, for even the Niyaca, the most poisonous of snakes, slipped silent- ly away from its deadly edge. As I looked, I could almost see the stump transform- ed into Bartolo, his hands raised beseech- ingly to heaven, his face distorted with fear. Silently I turned from this place, and, feeling strangely as though this queer tale were true, went back to the trail, Guadalupe cringing behind me. Catharine Plant '22, Uhr Sv. GD. SP. The U.S. Shipping Board freighter "Alaskan", plying between San Diego and Vancouver, British Columbia, was steaming out into the Pacific with a cargo of fruit on board for a merchant in Seattle. Captain Henderson, or "Old Man Henderson" as the crew called him, was standing just aft the foremast with the usual angry scowl on his scarred and homely face. He was feared by the entire crew and his law was "might makes right." John Prescott, the chief wireless operator, was just going to relieve the second operator when he had bumped into the captain as he was coming up the companionway. The captain had been unusually cross, and as Prescott hurried to his set, he again wondered over the conversation he had over-heard that morn ing. "We could run her onto Muscle Shoals," the mate had said. "Sh, not so loud, "the captain had exclaimed. " I just saw that wireless guy go down below, I'm afraid he'll spoil our fun if he gets suspicious." 23

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