Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

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THE SENIOR MAGNET 19 muttering, I didn't mean to kill you, Mr. Sloan-I just meant to take the money and go, but when you came downstairs and caught me, I just had to hit you, with my gun-I didn't mean to kill you -and then he'd yell again. It was simple to hold him down, he was trembling all over, so I jerked down some of these ropes, to tie him with, and switched on the light, and then you came in. But where are Dad and Mr. Sloan? Sure- ly they couldnlt have slept through the noise ? Then Ted told him that his father was in the hospital ,seriously wound- ed, having been hit on the head with some heavy instrument--that the doc- tor's said he would recover, the shock being worse than the injury, and that he'd spoken just three coherent words, Bob was right! Oh, poor Dad, said, Bob, his voice husky. That brute shall go to prison for this, I haven't trusted him from the Hrst, but Dad did, and kept putting his money and valuable papers in that old desk over there. Of course he, indicating the figure at his feet, Uknew all about it. Dad trusted him w.ith every thing. Then, day before yesterday, Dad missed a lot of money and accused me of taking it. That was the last straw! That guy there, in the house, and me accused of stealing the money. Well, I told Dad that I was through, and wouldn't come back as long as this bird stayed. And then I got to Worrying, because Dad is old and has always been so good to me, and so I came back. He stopped, chocked, and then went on. L'Ted, old boy, would you mind tak- ing me over to the hospital, and this to jail?,' But Ted was already out of the house, and it seemed but a moment till the Chug-Chugf' of his battered Ford died awiay in the distance, leav- ing the street silent once more, and unaware that it was minus one ftrust- ed secretary'.

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18 THE SENIOR ZWAGNET Misplacecl Trust ETHEL AMMON Help! Helpli' Had he been dreaming or was that really a cry of distress? HHelp! help! -the choking cry was repeated and with one bound Ted was out of bed and standing by the open window. The cry had seem- ed to come from outside. Silence-I Perhaps his nerves al- ready overtaxed by events of the day before, were playing tricks on him. In the tense silence that fol- lowed the cries, Ted hastily dressed, his thoughts meanwghile retracing, with lightning speed, the events of that terrible day. Bob Sloan, his next door neighbor, and lifelong friend couldn,t have done it! Tied couldn't believe it. And yet-Bob and his father had quarreledg the cause Ted didnlt know, couldn't find out. Bob had simply came over very late, two nights ago, told Ted he was leaving home on account of a quarrel with his father, wrung Ted's hand in fare- well, and was gone. There had been tears in his eyes-and Ted, bewilder- ed, felt a sympathetic mistiness about his own. And then, the next morning, a frightened and incoherent Mrs. Shane, the Sloans housekeeper, ran over, and, wrhite and shaking, told them that when she had found Mr. Sloan-here her tears and moans in- terrupted the story-lying on the Hoor in the living room. He was dead-she knew he was dead- wouldnit they come over and see+ Help! The cry weaker now, came again. In bedroom slippers instead of shoes, Ted paddled noiselessly down- stairs, and in a moment was at the low hedge separating the Sloan yard from his own. Undoubtedly the cry had come from there. Vaulting over the hedge, he ran to the house, and then realizing that he was unarmed, his natural impulsiveness gave way to caution. Everything was dark. His heart in his throat, he nimbly and very cautiously climbed the porch railing, and choosing a dark spot, crept cau- tiously around to the front door, in- tending to open it-and then-the light in the living room flared up! Without any more hesitation, he rushed into the hall, and there stood Bob Sloan, surveying, with the ut- most satisfaction, the work of his hands. At his feet-bound and gag- ged lay an exhausted and battered figure whom Ted recognized as Mr, Sloan's secretary. AKWhat the-? How-? When did you come back ?', gasped the as- tounded Ted, his words tumbling over each other in his amazement. I came home this evening-found the house dark and still-not a soul around. Supposing every one in bed, and too worn out to even bother go- ing upstairs, I stretched out here on the davenport and must have fallen asleep. Anyway, something woke me, and then I saw a little point of light wandering over Dad's desk-a Hash- light held by a dark shadow-that fel- low there,H kicking him with his foot. Then he must have been- be- gan Ted. He was,'l interrupted Bob. 6'VVell. l just gave one jump, and landed on him. I guess I was pretty rough, be- cause he yelled loud enough to waken the dead. He musthave thought I was Dad, and been off his head or something, for between yells,-he kept

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20 THE SENIOR M24 GNET The Song of Love CHARLES MCCAFFERTY Applesaucely' growled the man op- posite me. Now what, Billy. I asked, idly. f'Aphasia,y' he answered, handing me the paper he had been scanning, and continued, f'You know. Man loses memory-found wandering days later and all that. I think its just a handy excuse for men seeking to avoid home troubles, or to escape their creditors, or some such- 'KHold on, there! I interupted angrily, I hope your remarks were not intended for me. I w.asn't in debt a cent and I certainly wasnyt married when-U f'Jove! he muttered, a troubled remembrance coming into his eyes, Grant, I forgot. Iim sorry and I apologize. No one doubted your sin- cerity, I least of all. A few words of explanation are necessary here. While flying in France during the war, I was shot down. Fortunately, I suffered only a severe blow on the head. The trouble resulted from this blow. Upon re- covering consciousness, I found the past a blank. However, I had fallen behind our own lines, and being well taken care of and sent home to fa- miliar friends and surroundings, I had in time completely recovered my mem- ory, as I then thought. It was this matter which had momentarily arous- ed me and which I now realized he had forgotten. I was about to tell him so, when VVillis Crane, the third member of our party, and hitherto silent, spoke up. I have a story to tell,', he said, while handing the near- est waiter a note, Hand I want you to listen. 'fBack in 1918,,'he began, 'fa young aviator had been granted a few days 'PH official leave. Wearied from partici- pation in the thoughtless, useless slaughter and destruction going on about him, he sought distraction by spending his leave in the south of France where the war's immediate presence did not make itself feltf' At the word aviator I had glanced up, sharply, suspecting I scarcely know what, but as his story continued I felt my interest begin to wrane. To the best of my knowledge, I had never been in southern France. f Ifhere in the south, my comrades voice droned on, yet with some qual- ity in it preventing monotony, he found his distraction by falling in love with a French girl of the better class who appeared to return this love. How far matters had gone, l can't say. At this mention of the eternal feminine, my spirit groaned aloud. I say this literally, for unconsciously I had uttered a cynical sigh. Recently since my return from France, I had had such an unaccountable aversion for most women that I was known as a women hater and had become a sub- ject for comment among my acquain- tances. My companions were aware of this characteristic. I sensed their glances fall upon me but the trend of the story remained unbroken. They were together constantly throughout his leave, Crane con- tinued, Hhe afterwards told me about it upon his return. But he seemed to he concealing something. I don't think he told me the whole story. At any rate, he returned from leave and within a week had been brought down in combat. 'His handling of his crip- pled plane is still a matter of discus- sion among members of that squadron.