Cloverdale Union High School - Spectator Yearbook (Cloverdale, CA)

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casting my line and pulling out the speckled beauties. My skill and good fortune combined had helped me pull in some of the finest specimens that I had ever seen. About five o’clock in the afternoon I began to experience the cravings of a raging appetite. Two biscuits that I had put into my pocket had been all that I could stop to eat for dinner, so I sought my small camp rather suddenly and hastened to prepare a hearty meal. With the dry wood so handy, a good fire was a matter of only a few minutes. The lunch box was freed from newspaper and string and I began a belated attack on the contents. Whoever has not experienced a good meal after an active day in the open air of the hills, has missed one of the joys of life. I stopped only when I remembered that what food was left must suffice for the morrow. After preparing camp for the night and cleaning my mess of fish, I found that some little daylight was left me yet, for it was only seven o’clock. I was tired from the hard exertions of the day, so decided that I would rest by the fire until I became ’ sleepy. The paper that had encompassed my lunch box was lying on the ground nearby, so I picked it up and perused its columns. In looking for the date of publication—that I might know how stale the news was—my eyes rested near the top of the last page in the left-hand corner on a short piece whose headlines read: “Search for Lost Heir Begun; Large For¬ tune Awaits Claimant.” This looked somewhat interesting, so, after discovering that the paper was but little over a week old, I turned my attention to this short space of type: “The search for one John R. Brownwell, sole heir of the vast estate of the late Robert Brownwell of San Francisco, was begun in earnest today. The detective agencies have been notified and, although previous efforts to locate the said party have been vain, it is believed that he will be found shortly.” John R. Brownwell! That was my own name. Could it be that I was the fortunate heir to an estate? The print ran together before my eyes and the paper shook in my hands. Doubt seized me and my common sense asked how such a thing could be. If I had ever heard of a relative by that name I might have believed it, but of this man I had never heard. On the other hand, what was to prevent its being true? Although my people had never told me of a rich relative, such things had happened before. I sought out the article and read it through a dozen times, digesting it by parts and trying to get the effect of each line. As it slowly dawned upon me that it must be true, my doubt gave way to delight and a strong feeling of exultation. Now I could really have those many different things that I had always looked upon as distant hopes so immeasurably far away in the dim future. A college education of the best sort; a splendid home; a high-powered automobile; time in abundance to spend in any way that suited my fancy; high position in the world of finance,—all passed in gorgeous array before my mind’s eye. Castle upon castle I built, until, with a start, I came to a realization that the fire was almost out and that the damp dew of night was causing me to feel chilly. I quickly piled more wood upon the glowing coals and soon was rewarded with a bright blaze that lit up the open space and drove the shadows back into the recesses of the dark woods. I made sure that the precious news- 17

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Hij iFortmtr (Awarded First Prize.) As my Senior year in high school had been a strenuous one, vacation brought a very acceptable chance for recreation. My family was especially desirous for me to get out into the hills and do whatever I pleased in the way of taking life easy. Since fishing has always been a source of great enjoyment to me, I planned to take a trip of that nature. I was anxious lest all the trout should be taken from the streams before I could get a chance to try my skill, so my apparatus was packed and I was ready to accept the first opportunity of getting to a favorable trout hole. Consequently, when 1 heard of a chance of a ride to Cummisky creek, I did not delay. The gentleman was going to a neighboring town on business, and was glad to have my company as far as I wished to go. He would start early the next morning. That evening saw me busy rolling up blankets, buying bait, and ordering a good lunch put up in readiness for my departure. Having had previous experience I was sure to see that the cook at the hotel was tipped so as to make him able to measure my fisherman’s appetite correctly. When the package was handed to me I felt satisfied that all would be well, for even the newspaper in which it was wrapped seemed to be eager to tell me of some surprise hidden within it. We started from the hotel at seven o ' clock, and it was not much later that 1 bade my friend goodbye, assuring him that I would meet him at the same spot on the following evening. He wished me luck and, with good-natured chaffing concerning the size of my lunch box, drove away. The morning was fair and balmy, the kind that brings spring-fever to the working man in town but fills the angler with delight. Never have I seen the hills and dales as beautiful as they were then. The high peaks were cov¬ ered with sunshine; the valleys were a deep blue at a distance; the entire scene radiated peace and joyous life. I could have spent the day happily enough in just enjoying the varied aspects of Nature at that wonderful season of the year. But ambition was surging through my veins. I longed to catch some of the fish that I had heard about so often at the postoffice on summer evenings, —the kind that help to establish a reputation, if not of a fisherman, at least of a good fabricator. To that end, I started up creek and, after secreting my lunch box and blankets, began to try my luck. All the rest of that beautiful day I spent 16

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paper that had brought such joy to me was carefully placed in my coat pocket, and then lay down and wrapped my blankets close around me. Had I not been very tired from the long, hard sport of the day, I do not believe that I should have slept but, as it was, I dozed off almost immediately. I woke early and found that another wonderful spring day had begun. The sun’s first rays were tipping the tops of the redwood trees high above me. The grass was heavy with dew, and the birds were beginning their morning devotions. After breakfast I again started up the creek, where the entire day was spent in fishing and pondering. I looked the case over from every possible angle, while my wits were actively laying more plans for the future. As I had promised to meet my friend with the automobile at the road, I was forced, against my will, to leave off angling about three o’clock, in order to gather up my camping equipment, clean my fish, and arrive at the trysting place on time. When the appointed hour came, however, it found me waiting by the roadside a few minutes before my friend hove into view. I tried to keep calm and not burst out with the news, but my face must have betrayed my secret for the first thing he asked was, “Well, Jonah, where was the luck—with you, or with the fish? You appear to be in high spirits, so I presume it must have been with you. I told him how many fish I had caught and then imparted my great piece of news. He listened in silence while I gave him all the reasons I had thought of why I was the sole lawful heir. When I had run out of breath, he said, “Well, what is your first move to get possession of the fortune? This 1 could not exactly answer, but I thought that I would telegraph immediately to the detective agency. He gave me some good advice on what to do, then stopped the car in front of the telegraph office, where I was left to follow out the mysterious piece of news. I confess that I was somewhat nervous and had quite a time getting the message worded. But I finally twisted the words so that they sounded fairly well and handed the slip through the wicket to the operator. Having no idea how long it would be before I could receive an answer, I went back up to the hotel and, after changing my clothes, had supper. I was sitting in the lobby reading when the return message was brought. I took the yellow envelope and hastily tore off one end. I unfolded the sheet of paper and read: “Rightful heir found several days ago. Newspaper misprinted the name. Estate meant for John R. Brownell, not Brownwell. Like a puff of smoke my air castles vanished. My fond hopes and plans dissolved. I could hardly realize now that it was all a mistake of hasty judg¬ ment on my part, so thoroughly had I forced myself into believing that I could not possibly be other than the rightful heir. After hoping,, thinking, and planning upon my good fortune for the better part of two whole days, how could I bear to have it all come to naught? For an hour or more I sat there, going over each little detail of the event; then I left the lobby and wandered aimlessly up the street drinking in the cool night air. A spirit of depression had settled down upon me; I strove to shake it off and consider the affair as a sort of venture in which I had been the loser.