Arsenal Technical High School - Arsenal Cannon Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

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Mary Lib's playroom and as she knitted she had watched Mary Lib playing with her dolls. After introducing herself Miss Phoebe asked to be led to the playroom. The family was following the little lady around as a group of baby chickens would follow their mother hen. Not knowing what to do or say. they thought it best to see what Miss Phoebe was about. They were grouped in the playroom as she switched on the light in the closet. Never once glancing over her shoul- der. she pushed her hand against one of the boards in the wall. Slowly the entire west wall of the closet swung open. This little act would have knocked Mama down had Papa not been back of her and it would have knocked Papa down had Jimmy not been back of him. The O'Donnells tumbled forward to see what was in- side the hidden room. Merciful heavens! Curled up on the floor with her arm for a pillow was Mary Lib. Papa U'Donnell gathered the child in his arms and made his way upstairs to lay her in bed. Coming downstairs he joined the group. Miss Phoebe was smiling slightly. She was remembering when she had locked herself in that room where General Sherman had always placed his important maps and papers for safe- keeping. Her friends had used it for a wine storage. Since the former occupants had moved. no one had known of its THE ww by WILLIAM POIILMAN English Vllc HHEE YEARS ago a boy sat watching an old man with a long thin rod Hip a brightly-colored feather out over a little pool. Suddenly there was a loud swish and something exploded out of the water. The rod bent as if it would snap in two. A long silver thing leaped and did a dance on its tail. It rushed out into the swift current. but the old man slowly guided it into a landing net. As he lifted his captive to get a better view. the fisherman threw out his chest. and a broad grin spread across his face. To the youth standing there on the bank. all this was fascinating. for this was his first glimpse of a bronzeback. Now a hronzeback may be just another fish to you. but to the person who spends the long winter nights planning and scheming to outwit this crafty individual. it deserves respect. Even the person who has never pursued the bass in its watery haunts. who has eaten only a sizzling morsel. fried a golden brown in butter and cracker-crumbs. even he appreciates the fact that this fish is to be desired more than any other. Angling for the bronzeback is a zestful adventure. You drift into a cove overhung by green branches that seem to give the whole place a feeling of cool peacefulness: then. over to the right you see a small ripple which gives the warn- ing that some hungry prowler of the deep is getting his dinner. You cast a plug over the ripple. Nothing happens. You start to retrieve the bait when zowie-something snaps you out of the daze in which you are. Your rod and reel existence until Mary Lib chanced on it in her playing. It' one knocked from the inside of the compartment. he could not be heard. The UiDonnells were soon merry again. for Mary Lib was safe in her bed. the rest of the familv were all accounted for, and they had won a new friend. Before Xliss lfhoebe left. ,Timmy promised to take her for a ride to see how it felt to drive eighty-five miles an hour. Miss Phoebe closed the door behind her and left the family to themselves. Another evening was over: and though it was still quite early. the U'Donnells could go to bell and sleep in peace. for everyone was safe and sound within the walls of their home. A WHITE IIAFFOIIIL by NATALIIQ Jl'XtLIC lfnglish Xl Six pure petals ln.-td the cup of delicate fragrance. So perfect was its form. I thought it artificial. The svveet perfume from somewhere far beyond Taught me tht- truth that Unly the skill of Natureis hand tfan fashion such exquisite grace. Unly Nature can shape Such perfect loveliness ln one NXIIIIP dafiodll. OF THE ROD almost leap out of your hands. but somehow you manage to hold on and set the hook. The battle is on. Your reel screeches as the line flies otll. but you soon put a stop to that. Your opponent tries something new. He turns and comes rushing straight back at your boat. intl begin winding up that slack line which is still out in the water: he slows up a little. and at last you have reeled in all the line except that which the bass has decided to keep. By this time you are getting tired of this dawdling. and you begin to drag him in. All goes well for two revolutions of the reel-handle. Uut comes the bronzeback. looks straight at you. and shakes his head amidst the foamy spray. Then down he goes-- straight to the bottomfand there he stays. You pull and pull. You feel the line begin to stretch. Ifeis off again. zigzagging this way and that. The line goes limp. your heart is in your mouth. you think he is gone. you begin to take in the line. There is a faint tug at the end of the line. what a glorious feeling! He is your fish! Now all this may sound easy. but try it. You walk a mile or so. not to mention the seventy-hve or one hundred miles you have had to drive to reach your stream: you sit for hours in a boat or walk around in the mud: you get sunshine in plentiful doses before you find your cool cove and its bass: you are nearly eaten up by mosquitoes: and. too often. you never have a nibble. Is it worth it? Yes! There are millions of us fishermen who. like you. will risk sunburn. pneumonia. malaria from gnat-infested swamps. weariness. and disap- pointment every time an invitation comes to go fishing. For there is always a hope that we will reel in a bronzeback.

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