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

Page 8 text:

OLLA PODRID A BERKELEY HIGH Hey, ain ' t ye comin ' in no more? demanded Jim from the middle of the water. Aw, what ' s the use? Try swimmin ' under water. Aw, we did. ' Tain ' t no fun. Come on out. The one in the water floundered to shore. What ' ll we do, then ? Aw, they ain ' t nothin ' to do. A shout arose from the other side of the pond. They were going to play Sheriff and Prisoners. With your body wet, the dust would stick nicely, and if you daub it carefully in horizontal stripes, it makes you look just like a prisoner in his convict suit. This done, the} ' lined up in a row and the counter-out began : Oneory, Twoery, Ickery Ann. When the sheriff was picked out, he grabbed a stick from the fence, and then sent the convicts down the road. Soon he was after them. They swerved from the road and dashed for the group of pines. Oh! Why did they do that? Oh! Why? In that clump of pines sat the young men and women of the Sunday School. The convicts were upon them before they knew it, and right behind them was the sheriff. To go back was bad. To go forward, worse, but nevertheless they went forward. Bare, muddy feet pattered on white tablecloths, on sandwiches, layer cakes, eggs, plates of chicken, and what not Shrieking maidens hid their faces as the cavalcade passed by, and young men hotly pursued. Willows ' pond lay only a few lods farther, and to reach it was their ambition. Woe, misery and despair ! Between them and the pond was a patch of blackberries. They tried to turn aside their break for liberty, only to find their escape cut off by angry- browed young men. So they took the branches at a leap, and youthful hide is tender even when tanned by many a day ' s exposure to the sun, and we will all acknowledge blackberry brambles to be horrid things. 6

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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

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OLLA PODRIDA :: :: :: BERKELEY HIGH But the water was cooling , and now the sheriff and his convicts were free ! At last they reached their clothes, and they kept up a run- ning fire of talk until the last gallus had been fastened to the last pair of overalls with a twig and the last straw hat slammed doAvn over the last dripping head. It was now after noon. The dinner hour was long passed, but of this thev took no note. They robbed an orchard, a bank swallow ' s nest, killed a thrush with the slingshot, and were cooking for more world ' s to conquer. What les ' do? asked Chick. Aw, they ain ' t nothin ' to do. Le ' s go home. ' Right. Ben was spanked by his mother for fighting, going} swim- ming, tearing clothes, and some other things like that. His father did not find him in the hammock because he was spanked, but because his mother insisted on talking about it. Hello, son, said his father. What have you been doing all day? Aw, nothin . They ain ' t never nothin ' to do in this ole place. — M. F., ' 13. 7