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Page 25 text:
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LAMENT I saw the praise and honor that the football players got, I saw the thrill and glamour of the basket- ballers lot, And when the track and field men did their annual meets begin, I thirsted for the limelight lesser men than I were in. How fine to me did seem the noisy plaudits of the mob! How noble to do deeds to make a maiden's soft heart throb! Alas! With all the ardour of a partriotic fool, I swore I'd be an athleteg a great credit to the school. O God! How can I say it when my heart with anguish bleeds? I signed up to be an athlete and they put me-hoeing' weeds! -HOMER D. BRONSON
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Page 24 text:
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. I tell ye I know all about The Bee-Hive Tragedy tamin' bees! said old Sport By DORIS COLLINS Gilbert to his two younger corn- : ,- panions, as the three were rid- ing homeward one afternoon. Well, said Tom Bennet, there is a tree with a bee-hive in it down the road about a mile. When we get there, Jack and I would be real pleased if you'd get us some honey. The three were horseback. Sport was a noted character about the community, which was settled around a small country town. He was well along toward sixty-five years of age. In his earlier years he had been very active, but lately he had become bothered with rheumatism. Sport was a great boaster. He had always boasted that he was especially apt at robbing bee-hives. Tom and Jack felt in gay spirits this afternoon and thought they would have a little fun at the expense of poor Sport. Why, you fellers nowadays don't know nothin' about robbing bee- hives, continued the old man. When I came out to Californy in '49, I drove a swarm of bees across the plains and never lost a bee! How's that ? He finished with an intelligent nod of his head and a wink. His two com- panions laughed. The three were now within about one hund1'ed yards of the bee-tree. We'll wait for you right here, Sport, said Jack. All right, replied the old man, It will only take me a little while to get this here honey. With this he painfully climbed down from his horse. Here's a small pail in which to get the honey, said Tom. I had my lunch in it. Sport took the pail, and groaning' and grumbling about his rheumatism, started out for the tree. The bee-hive was in a hollow in the trunk of the tree, t'Sport put his hand into the hive and began pulling out the honey. His good luck did not stay with him long, for soon a bee stung him on the ear. The old man made an slap at it with his hand. Just about this time the whole swarm became angry. Poor old Sport was slapping himself and getting honey all in his hair and whiskers, the latter of which he had plenty. Tom and Jack had started out for home immediately after the bees be- came angry. They knew that Sport would be furious at them, so they decided not to get near him for a couple of days in order to let his anger cool. Sport howled with anger and painrand ran to his horse, his rheuma- tism gone as if by magic. It was a very sore old man that went to bed at the ranch that night. Sport ,decided that his powers over bees were not what they used to be. H
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Page 26 text:
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The last rays of the sink- ing sun shone brightly upon the rude camp of Dick Dorris. He sat sourfully beside a ' smoking camp fire with his elbows resting on his knees and his head propped in his hands. He was thinking of his beautiful home back east, his dear little white-heared mother, his pretty,blue-eyed, little sister, and his dignified and business-like old father. His thoughts also wandered to a big ivy covered cottage where a girl, who had been his childhood sweetheart, lived. Then he wished that he and Strathford, his chum, had never thought of adventuring to this far northwest. Strathford had died two days before from weakness and starva- tion. Dick had had practically nothing to eat for over a week, and he was too weak now to hunt or fish, so he knew his fate might be like that of his comrade. . l The Lures of the North By ELIZABETH SHUEY VVhen the dawn first began to whiten the grey morning, Naatachee, the daughter of the chief of a northern Indian tribe, stole from her tepee. She wound her way up the sloping ridge around the rim of the valley. After carefully scanning the country for a few minutes she noticed a thin grey smoke, which appeared as if it came from a low burnt fire, only a short distance down the canyon. She carefully made her way through the trees and underbrush until she came to the camp of Dick Norris. She was afraid when she first saw the white man, but as she drew nearer she realized that he was unconscious and not asleep. She rebuilt the fire and pulled Dick closer to it, upon an old blanket. She then poured some very strong Indian herb medicine, which she carried for just such emergencies, between his lips. After a long time Dick slowly opened his eyes. I-Ie was so weak, how- ever, that he soon went to sleep again by the warm fire. Then Naatachee went to her father's camp to return in a few hours with two stout Indians who carried Dick into the Indian camp. After many months of food and care Dick was again the cheerful, ad- venturesome person he had once been. He owed his life to Naatachee, who by this time had grown very fond of him. She asked him to take her to the land of white people. Dick owed her his very existence but yet he thought of his home, the pride of his family, and the girl in the big ivy covered cottage. He knew that it would kill his dear old mother to introduce to her an Indian daughter. He thought of Horned Owl, Naatachee's father, and saw him a broken old man from the loss of his beloved daughter. Naatachee was very young and he knew that if he went away that in time she would forget him and be happy among her own kin. So when the full moon rose he glided in his birth canoe down the little stream, which rippled like a silver ribbon in the moonlight. At the last long bend he turned to wave goodbye forever to a slim little figure silhouetted against the sky-line in the moonlight.
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