Glen Cove High School - Profile Yearbook (Glen Cove, NY)

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Page Eight THE RED AND GREEN the morning. It seemed as if they would never reach home. The dust from the road was blown all over their faces and stuck to their wet clothes until they looked like two little tramps. They had caught colds; soon they began to cough; then they shivered from chills and burned with fever. All together they were the two most miserable boys in the world. Besides that they had a heavy load on their minds. Coming home in that condition, they would be sure to be found out. Finally they arrived home, when lo! and behold! they met the whole school coming up the road from the pond with the mothers at the head. Billed poked Art, “Here’s where we get a laying out,” and they did. The mothers of the children had planned to give the pupils a surprise, and a half holiday hav- ing been declared they all went out on a picnic. The boys smacked their lips when the good things were mentioned which the others had had to eat at the picnic. Of course since they were not at school, Mrs. Jameson and Mrs. Bangs knew their sons were playing hookey and they had the punishment all mapped out. Bill and Art were led away to their respective homes, promised the worse whippings they had ever received, sent to bed, and on the next days, Saturday and Sunday, were not allowed to ieave the house. Bill and Art were like any two American boys. They had learned their lesson. Experience had been the best teacher for them and they kept their vows, never to go on a hook again. —Archie Brause. Basketball Team ok 1921 Champions of Nassau County

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THE RED AND GREEN Page Seven ing week at a formal dinner party where Dick’s ever repay the debt F owe to Beauty?” father sat in the corner of the drawing room, .a “What debt?” questioned Muriel. smile on his face. What he had forseen had come “The victory he helped me to win-----you.” true. “Well, if that’s the case I owe a bigger debt The following June a simple wedding cere- to Beauty and you.” mony was performed in the gardens at Brympton- “How so Muriel?” woods. When Dick and Muriel were alone on the “Because, 1 had a double victory, You and the honeymoon Dick laughingly said: “How shall I Cup.” —Gordon Wright. “Never cAgain “Aw gee! This is too good a day to be in school, Bill. What do you say we go on a hook?” “I’m thinkin’ you’re right, and besides we haven’t played hookey now for more than a month. Teacher will never get wise. We can tell her our mothers were sick. Come on, I’ve bunked my fishin’ lines down near our old boat in the pond, and Johnny Mills says the trout are bitin’ fine.” These two little criminals, planning to break the law, were no other than William J. Bangs and Arthur W. Jameson of Hicksville, New Jersey, but to their young partners in crime known as “Bill” and “Art.” Of course you can understand their motive. Spring had arrived and with it spring fever, and they, being yet loo young to lightly turn to love, took it out in that form of dissipation. So having taken this great amount of lime (one minute) to decide, they set out for the smaller pond, four miles from the village, as in the larger one which fed the smaller, they would be more likely to be discovered. They were in such a cheerful frame of mind and so fresh from a good night’s sleep that the four miles were covered almost too fast. When they reached the pond, they ripped off their coats and the stiff collars w’hich were withering from the heat. Then, having let out several yells and whoops to show they were absolutely free from worry they found the lines and boats and started to fish. After spending an hour and a half without so much as a sign of a bite they threw down their lines disgustedly and swore vengeance on Johnny Mills. It was eleven o’clock by the position of the sun when Art broke the silence: “Say, Bill, let’s go in swimming. Gosh! it’s May already and you know we’re allowed to go swimming in June. This Wti 'her is just as hot as any we have in June.” The lVQyS looked at each other, then, without saying another word they undressed and prepared to go in in nature’s bathing suit. At first they splashed the water over each other timidly, but finally Bill, being the first one to gather his courage, dived off' with a great splash. Art was just as quick, and was off before Bill came up. When both had come to the surface they looked at each other as much as to say, “Whew, the water’s colder than the air all right,” but neither of them was willing to admit it openly. And so they kept it up for about an hour, running in the water—then jumping out to chase each other among the trees. At length they took their lunches out of the boat and started looking for delicious wintergreen berries and mushrooms. But wherever grew what they thought were mushrooms and berries, also grew poison ivy that unknown to them they came in contact with hundreds of times that day. Soon they began to suffer. The mosquitoes were out in full force and by the aid of the poison ivy they had both boys scratching until their whole bodies were one large rash, which burned like fire. To soothe that they went back into the water. In about ten minutes the toad stool and poisoned berries which they had thought were mushrooms and wintergreen berries began to act. They had such pains that they were soon writhing in all sorts of contortions. With common consent they left the water and suffered an hour on the beach, where the pitiless sun beat down to help the poison ivy and mosquitoes. With great effort they dragged their bodies to shore to discover that their clothes had fallen into the water from the branch on which-they had left them. Pulling the wet garments on their burning bodies they started despondently on the four mile walk which has passed so quickly in

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THE RED AND GREEN Rage Nine 'ffie Traveler I wake up and find myself to have been sleeping, sleeping about ten feet from the edge of a stony cliff. It had been raining and it still is raining, but what care I? I am in my waterproof sleeping bag. (My sleeping bag is so waterproof that what is in it along with me, can’t get out.) I try to think how 1 came to this place, when suddenly I remember that the day before 1 had been roaming around in an unfamiliar forest after having left an unkown Indian village, situated in an unexplored part of the great untraveled northwest of Canada. Last night when I went to sleep, my guide, an old crab-faced Indian, was sleeping by me; my Winchester was also beside me; my outfit was neatly piled up against a tree; but now none of these things, guide included, are present. 1 am the only thing, I and my waterproof sleeping bag. Without much debating with myself, I come to the conclusion that the outfit left the same way it had entered camp, a la guide. Things look pretty discouraging. Here is poor me in the Great Unknown with a suit of outing clothes and a waterproof sleeping bag. Again, after a very short debate, I conclude that the best way to find help is to look for it. So, suiting action to thought, I pack my outfit, the waterproof sleeping bag, and start tramping. I tramp over soggy ground for a few hours until finally something within me tells me that I have had no breakfast. I therefore set my march in the direction of food instead of the direction of help, both directions in the Great Unknown being laid out in curved lines. Hours later, it is still raining and the soggy ground over which I have been tramping is more soggy. In spots this sogginess turns into mud; and through this mud, mine are the only tracks. After walking straight all day long, I find myself standing ten feet from the edge of the stony cliff near which I had found myself sleeping in the morning. It is evening and that same something within me that had told me, in a moderate tone, that 1 had had no breakfast finally shouts that 1 have had neither breakfast, dinner, nor supper, but here I am alone in the Great Unknown with no ammuni- tion, with nothing but a waterproof sleeping bag. It continues to rain and I, already in my bag, ten feet from the stony cliff, am beginning to realize that a moisture inside my waterproof sleeping bag is increasing to wetness. The images of trees around me begin to blur and 1 fall asleep. I awake; it is still dark. What awoke me, who had been very tired after having walked ail day? A low growl comes from the trees and my question is answered. Is it one grizzly or a number of them? I become very excited and wriggle from my bag, none too early; for two bears are upon me. I struggle and consider myself lucky because the two bears claw one another oftener than they do me. But my position is none too safe. The cliff is nearer than ten feet now, and ever continues to approach, slowly and surely. I give up hope for I know that I, on an empty stomach, am no match for two bears. I only wish that we, the bears and I, would fall off the cliff. The bears would be as badly off as I should be; and someone would come and find my waterproof sleeping bag, and know that I was no more. My wish is fulfilled; one of the bears loses his balance on the edge of the stony cliff and goes tumbling down, the other bear and I keeping him company. Everything is tipsy. I am falling, falling, falling. Finally we hit bottom; then I wake up, only to find myself to have been sleeping, sleeping with the windows opened and the rain pouring in, wetting all the covers. In my hands are two pillows; I am on the floor. —Jack Matthews. Philanthropy. History courses oft remind us We can help if we but try, In passing on we leave behind us Notebooks for the other guy. —Ex. Impossible! Shory—Mr. Gribbin, there is just one thing I don’t understand. Mr. Gribbin—Just one?—Ex.