Castilleja School - Indian Paintbrush Yearbook (Palo Alto, CA)

Page 72 text:

Her eyes were staring, though not glazed: her breathing was slow and laborious, and she seemed to be glad that I had come. Please help me get up, her expression said, but I could do nothing. I removed her halter and unfast- ened the straps which held on her blanket. Her right leg was covered with blood and fluid from her wound, and several places on her body showed where the straps had cut in deeply. I stood back a little and tearfully urged her to get up, a feat which my common sense told me was impossible. At first she did not move, but lay there, her eyes slowly following my movements. Then with a grunt and a supreme effort, she tried to rise. She threw her head forward from the corner and pawed the air, teetering on her side for a few seconds, then fell back again, silent and still. Once more I coaxed her. Again she responded, but fell back exhausted. Outside, the fog was swirling around the barn. Wind whistled through the cracks and around the eaves, and snow began to sift into the barn. When I opened the stall door and went out, I turned around just in time to see that a handful of snowflakes had blown into Blue's face, but she did not stir--just lay there helplessly. I closed the door and stepped out into the fog and snow. I felt I'd never see Blue alive again--and I never did. Pamela Mayall '55 66

Page 71 text:

TRAGEDY The snow crunched delightfully under my feet as I walked down the narrow road leading to the barn. It was a rather strange day, grey clouds, threatening a storm, hovered balefully overhead and blotted out the rays of the afternoon sun. The landscape around me looked bare and defeated, trees stood out dismally against the bleak background, their bare black branches reaching toward the sky. I was going to the barn, as I had done so often that December, to feed and care for Blue, my horse, who had been injured over Thanksgiving vacation. As I rounded a bend in the road and came in view of the old ramshackle barn, an ominous feeling surrounded meg I was afraid to go further, and yet that same fear drove me on. I hesitated a littleg then, overcoming the feeling, I ad- vanced. As I neared the barn door, everything was deathly silent except for the mournful wailing of the wind overhead. Blue? I called. There was no answering scuffle or nicker. I rattled the lock. Hey, you! Blue! No answer. A strange chill came over me, and I felt a shiver up and down my spine. I opened the door and stepped in. It was dark, warm, and horsey in there. A gust of icy wind whistled through the door and churned up a cloud of dust and hay, blinding me temporarily. When the cloud subsided, I looked across to the stall where Blue stayed, but to my surprise and shock, there was no silhouette against the open window. I called again. My voice trembled. I stood motionless. A feeble groan answered my query, and I leaped over to the rail. Blue was down on her side, her feet on the slight upgrade of the floor and her head next to the stall door. Always before, she had come to meet me, even if she had been lying down. A wave of terror, disappointment, and panic seized me and I could not move, I just stood looking at her. Then, not knowing what to do, I let out a loud cry and hastened over the rail to her side. Confusion and a sense of complete helplessne ss gripped me, but I soon calmed down to see what 1 could do. I I have no idea how long she had been down, nor what had happened, but the ground under her feet was completely free from straw and had deep hoof scratches in it. The barn, a rickety old structure, had many sizeable cracks in the walls, and through these cracks snow had sifted, leaving Blue with a frosty halo of snow around the edges of her mane and her ears. 65

Page 73 text:

Ugly mothers! s. gk'-5 X ' 'fm TJ, The Seniors--rahl 'P Q' U bu-an Ice -skating? Idiot's delight. Af' L hw 2 b'21h if .Q f I, f if 3 M - h 1 Q xik ' J Y, 1-' 54 .rf Q .. 1 , :vw , 5 , is i h imi 3, , Q W wggh , IN 9 h ii? ev' 1 I Q K ,gk A H l 1-we