Berkeley High School - Olla Podrida Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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OLLA PODRID A BERKELEY HIGH Aw, come out of it, Chick Wilbur, ' he said. I see ye. The hedge parted, and out stepped a figure, the shape and general outlines of the first. He was the guilty one. Gosh, but didn ' t ye jump! exclaimed Chick, laughing at the thought. I got double rubber ban ' s on her now. Try her? Shufe. The small boy was full of energy, and in a flash had a couple of small round pebbles. He took the slingshot and fitted a stone into the leather. At the edge of the barn, about forty feet away, clucked an old hen. followed by a flock of chickens. Zing! Whit! Wh! Cluck! Sluck! Waw! Waw! Chip! Chip! Waw! Cluck! Cluck! Mother hen. smitten in the midst of her feathers, sounded her note of protest, and the whole flock disappeared behind a shed, but at no greater speed than that developed by Chick and Ben, for the hired man stepped from the barn to see what the trouble was. The boys took the picket fence on the run. sped up the road, over another fence, through a growing gar- den in which a woman was working. Over the fence, through another yard, over another fence, and then by the brook at the foot of a steep hill, down which they rolled, they paused for a much needed breath. Golly. Ben. ye did land that ole hen. laughed Chick. Did ye see the hired man run out? asked Ben. Eyah, an ' did ye see ole Misses Gregg look at us, when we went through her yard? ' Eyah: wasn ' t it fine. What let ' s do? Dun ' no. Y hat? Then silence reigned. Aw. gee. they ain ' t nothin ' to do. ■ Yellow warblers ' nest in Blarneys ' orchard. Sam Torrey got it las ' night. Le ' s go an ' plug rocks at Bowditehes bees. An ' get Towser Bowditch sicked on ye. Nix. You go. Aw, well, then what ' ll we do? Nothin ' . They ain ' t Goo-rug! Unwary bullfrog. At his first note they were 4

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©Ha JJatoitot v.c VOL. XXIV NOVEMBER, 1910 No. 3 Nothin to Do A small boy leaned on the front gate and looked longingly up and down the dusty road. The elms swung lazily in the fresh morning breeze and the rustle of their leaves was the only sound that broke the calm summer serenity, except the distant crackle of something that might be either a locust or a mowing machine. Though it was the perfection of peace, the small boy ' s soul w r as by no means attuned to his surroundings. He looked bored and miserable as he hung over the gate and ran his chubby fist through his mop of red hair. At sight of a yellow dog which crossed the road some distance away, he was sufficiently aroused to look lazily around for a stone to throw at the unoffending canine, but no stone presenting it- self, he had not the ambition to hunt for one, and the dog passed through a hile in a fence without a bombardment. The small boy yawned. Aw golly, he said, they ain ' t nothin ' to do. The next instant he leaped into the air with a shrill and startled Ouch! and clapped his hands to the seat of his patched blue overalls. A bee, by crickety! he exclaimed, and turned to look for the insect. Something struck a picket in the fence with a resounding whack. Then the small boy knew, and he dashed for the protection of the well-house. As he neared it, some- thing whacked loudly against the planks. Cautiously then the touseled head appeared above the well-house, and at last an accusing finger was pointed at the hedge by the barn. 3

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OLLA PODRIDA BERKELEY HIGH on their feet; at his second they had located him, and before he could open his yellow throat for a third call, a pebble had left the ever-ready slingshot and Mr. Bullfrog was gathered to his ancestors. During the five minutes which it took to skin him they enjoyed themselves tremendously, but this over, the world looked blue and miserable to their eyes. They wandered back to the road, and on the way robbed Mrs. Song-Sparrow of four eggs, which they placed in little baking powder cans filled with flour and cotton. Here comes Jim Blake and Billy Blaney, announced Chick. We don ' t want ' em, do we? Shure, the ' r alright. Hello, fellers. Hello. They trudged along side by side for quite a distance and none of them spoke. What ' s this comin ' ? asked Jim. Oh ! it ' s that Sunday School picnic from Greenville, don ' - cher know? They fought over a bunch of grapes thrown from the wagon filled with laughing young men and women, and soon that bunch of grapes was reduced to a pulp and nobody had had a taste. Le ' s go swimmin ' down to Willow ' s pond. The suggestion instantly met with favor, and in a minute they were off. They dashed through fields, copses, roads, up and down hills, and at length found themselves on the shores of Willows ' pond. On the opposite side were three more boys. Shirts, hats, overalls and galluses were thrown into a pile, and soon seven small boys were paddling about in the oozy depths. They dived, they did stunts, they made belly whoppers, and occasionally crawled to the shores and picked leeches from their sunburned little bodies, and covered those sun- burned little bodies all over with sand. It was great fun, but they soon grew tired of even this. Chick and Ben sat on a rock at the edge of the pond, toast- ing themselves in the sun. Their enthusiasm was ebbing. 5