Dunsmuir Joint Union High School - Crag Echoes Yearbook (Dunsmuir, CA)

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6 Another Fish Story H mother, get me some! Please do. This was the cry from every little boy and girl who passed the drug store. :It was not only little boys a11d girls who wanted some though, because young girls and women as well were rushing madly toward this place. People passing on the street heard many exclamations such as, Oh, isn't this one pretty! Mine are the prettiest of all! Now dear, be careful and don 't drop them. Have you any yet?'7 W One might wonder what all this excitement was about, but as nearly everybody knows, it takes very little to cause a great deal of ex- citement in a small town, and so it was ill this little town. Une of the druggists had received a large shipment of gold fish. He was giving these away with every purchase of certain articles amounting to so much. By evening nearly every woman and child had carried home some of these fish. 'Phe next day found a bowl of fish in the Window of nearly every home. And even though the excitment had some what subsided, this was not the last to be heard of the gold fish. ' Miss Miriah Simpkins and Mrs.'John Jones were having their morning gossip over the back fence. How are your fish? asked Miriah. I Uh they are just the cutest things- They play so cunningly with each other, and I am quite sure they know me already. Yours may be very cute, but I know they can 't compare with mine. Uh yes, I bought a splendid book yesterday that tells you just how to take care of them. f'Where did you get it? I must get one, too. You know I am so nervous about mine- I am so afraid that I might not do just the right thing and they might die. Bobbie! Bobbie! VVhere is my tobacco jar! This was Bob- bie Hansen's father calling. Mr. Hansen had spent about half an hour svarching for his tobacco jar, but could not find it anywhere. Bobbie was generally at the bottom of all the little mysterious happenings of this household, and as he had not been seen nor heard of for some time, his fond parent had decided that Bobbie must know something about that jar. Sure enough, asrhgir- Hansen glanced out of the front door, he saw Bobbie sprawled, oiftwon the lawn, gazing intently at something swimming about in his tobacco jar: What are you doing there, son? asked his father. Bobbie looked up and smiled, I broke the bowl for my gold fish so I put them in thisf' iiMOill0l'l Mother! Vome here quick, screamed little Mary Smith- Twenty-five

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Just before the sun dropped behind the western range, the In- dians reached the level of the valley. Behind them loomed Music Moun- tain, each cliff blazing in the rays of the setting sun, before them stretched the valley, mile upon mile of level ground covered with kyetta grass. The wind had gone down with the sun. Now and then there was a strong gust but for the most part there was just a gentle whistle through the cliffs. The unsuspecting train was rapidly approaching the foot of the cliffs where the Indians were watching. Suddenly witl1 a great war whoop tl1e leader kicked his horse and dashed out into the open valley followed by twenty braves in war paint and intoxicated with fire-water There was great consternation in the train when the band of Indians was seen approaching. The wagons were quickly drawn into a rude semi-circle with the loose stock inside. The women were busily loading the guns while the children huddled in the corners of the wagons and whimpered. The Indians were within shooting distance when with a big gust of wind came the long, clear call of a bugle! Everyone was petrified. Even the horses stopped and seemed to listen- Again came that long. clear and this time thrilling note. The soldiers ....... The same thought leaped into the mind of every brave. All thought of the pros- pectors was forgotten. Likewise the explanation of that amazing sound. Too intoxicated to have much reasoning power, their only thought to out lun the swift horses of the troopers. With one accord they turned a11d started for the open valley with Long Mounain in its center where they could hide in the dry washes. The prospectors stood astounded at their deliverance. Then quickly recovering they turned towards Music Mountain expecting to see a troop of soldiers file out from behind one of the cliffs, but nothing was to be seen except that now the cliffs were softened by gray and purple shadows. All that could be seen of the Indians was a rapidly disappearing cloud of dust out in the valley. Fearing that the Indians might recover from their scare and dis- covering their mistake return to attack the train, the party quickly formed into marching order and hastened to the shelter of the mountain. At dusk they reached the water hole. There they camped unmolested. Not a sign of the Indians was to be seen next morning. They resumed theirhjourney that day and reached Gold Basin without further mishap. In no way could they explain their deliverance. They were still as mystified as ever when a year or so later an old prospctor from Ash- fork visited the community at Gold Basin. They told him of their strange experience and asked if he knew why there were no soldiers to be seen. Witli a chuckle he explained the phenomenon: At certain times of the year, he said. when the wind blows in the right direction, it whistles through the cliffs with a noise resembling the call of a bugle. Pllinore Van Fossen, '24. Twenly-four

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What is the matter, child? exclaimed her mother as she ran into the bathroom where she found Mary standing in the center of the room weeping bitterly. My fish went down the pipe, sobbed Mary. She had put her fish in the bath tub to swim about while she changed the water in the bowl. Somehow the stopper had come out and tl1e fish flopped down the drain before Mary could catch them. I just knew something would happen to my darling little fish, cried Margaret Johnson. That pesky little brother of mine poured a whole bottle of ink on them. He said that he thought Dorothy's are so much prettier than mine because they have black spots on them. He has tried to make mine like hers and has killed them all- Mouser what have you done? Oh, my poor little fish, screeched Ona Mulligan. You naughty cat, you should have a good spanking. Don't you know those fish weren't for you to eat? Those poor, dear, little creatures. I suppose I should be happy with Mouser, Fido, Polly and Dick, but I can't help feeling sad over my dear littlc fish, she sobbed. Little Jane BaXter's mother had noticed how peculiarly the gold fish acted, so she determined to watch Jane and see what she did to them. Une afternoon soon after, Mrs. Baxter noticed that her daughter was unusually quiet. She looked into the room where Jane was playing, there she sat on the table, her legs hanging over the edge, beside her was her father's fish b3SK9t, on the floor just in front of her was the bowl of gold fish a11d in her hand was her father's fishing rod. No won- der the fish had acted so queer. It would be quite difficult to relate what happened to every fish, but if that poor druggist nad only known how many little hearts he al- most broke because of the loss of a poor little fish, or how much trouble he had caused many a fond parent he never would have given those fish away. Marjorie Young. Twenlu-six