Leominster High School - Magnet Yearbook (Leominster, MA)

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10 THE MAGNET car to be pulled up. They rise out of sight, and now the.rising mud covers the self-sacrificing victim! Up above, as soon as the noise of the falling mud was heard, men rushed to the shaft head, and immediately the elevator was put in operation. Crowds of women and children stood along the huge engines and pumps, wailing for their loved ones suffocating far below. As load after load of natives were hoisted, many of the people regained their self-control, and some even went away rejoicing, with a brother or husband safely brought to the surface. However, upon calling the roll, it was found that about forty had suffocated below in the thick mud. Murilla’s friends told the sad story of his self-sacrifice, and every one was so touched by the tale that a collection was taken for the benefit of his wife and children. Even the hardened old engineer “chipped in”. Silently, sadly, and slowly sank the huge red sun and the crowd dispersed to their lodgings. Three days passed. One morning a native with a bruised, scratched face entered the pound or inclosure where natives were searched for hidden diamonds, before leaving the mines, and asked for sick-leave. | “Name, please?’’ asked the guard, in the gutteral native tongue. ‘Murilla.” “ Murilla!” was the astonished reply. Natives crowded around. The news soon spread over the whole district. Murilla was safe! Then came the story of Murilla’s escape from his terrible prison. He had retreated into the stope before the final rise of the mud, and had, in a wild frenzy, struck the wall of the tunnel a huge blow with his fist. Mirabile visu! his hand went right through the clay! Hastily he broke a hole large enough for his body to pass through, and found himself ina long tunnel. Inky darkness was all around. MHurriedly he turned to go upward, but soon a great fallen rock checked his progress. Evidently the tunnel had never been discovered since the opening of the mine. Turning, Mu- rilla hastened down the tunnel again, and discovered, to his dismay, that the mud had oozed through the hole so inuch that he could hardly pass. In climbing by, he fell and severely bruised his face. However, he did not dare to stop, but hastened on and soon saw ahead a dim light. At last he reached an open space where the tunnel ended. Far above was an opening where the blue sky could be seen. How was hetoclimbup? Here, onthe side, were rude notches or steps on which he was able to slowly climb up. Night came, but still he worked on. At daybreak he was very weak, and hardly able to keep from falling. But to fall meant certain death, and . he would not give up now. So climb, climb, step after step, up he slowly went, until at last, almost dead with hunger and fatigue, he emerged from ‘his prison. He was scratched in a large clump of bushes behind the great sorting house. To this day no one knows what the unknown tunnel was used for;—was it, perhaps, a secret passage of a king ruling in long-past ages, or a mine of some thrifty people, in the rich diamond-bearing clay? Whatever it had been, at last it had served its purpose,—the saving of a human life. ARTHUR B. Hussey, ’10.

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THE MAGNET 9 In the Mud=-Rush T came at last, pouring down the shaft; the mud rushed along with a low, gurgling sound. For five months Murilla had worked in a long tunnel through the diamond-bearing blue clay. He tore the firm, grayish earth from the sides of the tunnel with a small pick and threw it into a small cart, which was taken to one of the shafts. There, upon a large elevating- car, it was rapidly lifted to the surface and taken to the great works of the De Beeres Mines, the greatest diamond mines inthe world. After the clay had been softened by several processes, it was carefully picked over by ma- chinery, and when it finally came from the great factory not a single tiny diamond was hidden in it. The clay was now so mixed with water that it flowed easily away from the huge buildings and settled near the mines. Some disturbance—a blast, perhaps—had loosened the whole mass, and now it had rushed into the main shaft, pouring down and imprisoning all who could not gain access to the auxiliary shaft. Such rushes were not— and, indeed, are not at present—infrequent in these places, where the life of the South African is held almost worthless. The mud advanced in the horizontal tunnels, called stopes, like a wall, inclining gently back. Murilla, a native, fled along the stope in which he was working. Soon he came to the auxiliary shaft, but the crowd of fright- ened miners was so great that the small elevator seemed scarcely to be carry- ing any to safety upon the surface far above. Looking down, he could see one, two, yes, three openings below in the shaft, and there were crowds of gesticulating and crying natives waiting to be carried up on the small ele- vator. Far above was the opening, where showed a patch of blue sky, the last sight of the world that many wereto have. For the mud, though it trav- eled slowly, advanced surely through the stopes, and before long emerged from the lowest opening, soon grasping the natives in its terrible grip. Then it slowly rose to the second opening. The elevator hastened up and down the long shaft, bearing men to safety, until only Murilla and three other men were left. The mud was now - even with the opening of the stope in which they were standing. What is that noise? They strain their eyes, looking back into the tun- nel behind them, and see there the terrible mud advancing slowly. They look anxiously up at the descending elevator. At last it isalmost down to where they are; but now a new danger threatens. The rising mud keeps the car from descending to the level of the stope, and so the men can barely touch the edge of the door sill. What is to be done? Murilla has made a decision. He will sacrifice himself for his friends! Without a word, he lifts one of his companions until he can pull himself to the car, then another, and then the last. Then they try to pull him up on to the car, but the mud has risen now to his waist, and they are unable to lift him one inch. Sorrowfully they leave him, giving the signal for the

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THE MAGNET II The Beginning and the End ERT picked up his cards and glanced feverishly at them. “By George,” he murmured under his breath. Then he sank back dazed, while his drawn, white face grew still whiter. His companion looked at him quizzically, then threw back his head and laughed. “A bit nervous, eh? Well, well, brace up, old man,” he said, as he picked up his cards with a cool, steady hand. And as Bert looked into the the black, glittering eyes before him, and the slightly curled lip, a deep, quick flush passed over his face and he pulled himself together. “On, on, on,” the little clock on the shelf ticked its song out noisily, seeming to be glad to hear its own voice for once; and the candle burning in the corner, sent out a dismal, flickering light over the college banners. At last Bert rose. “I guess that will be all tonight, Bill,” he said, huskily, “]-] have a headache,” he ended, rather lamely. But his companion coolly began stacking the cards again. “Guess this is your first time at it, isn’t it?” Bert nodded. “Oh, well then, you mustn’t be discouraged so soon. Just stick to it and luck will come your way. Now look here, sonny, you owe me ten dollars, don’t you?” Again Bert nodded. Well, as long as it’s you, I’ll double it and make the next bid twenty dollars. Now you sit down and have another game. For an instant Bert stood motionless. He had a vague feeling that sometime he would awake and find it alladream. He hated this fellow be- fore him, who had led him on, at first unsuspectingly, and as the truth flashed before him, by tantalizing reproaches and bribes. But now he had a chance to square himself with his opponent. And so he sank back into his chair again. The game was on, and it seemed as if Bert’s heart stopped beating as he picked up his cards. Then the ghost of a smile flickered about his strained white lips. Five minutes,—and it was over. Bert’s cold, numbed fingers closed over the bill and he was half-way out the door when Bill called, “Hey, old man, aren’t you going to play again?” “Never,” Bert called back as he ran down thestairs, three at a time, and at last out on the moon-lit campus. All was quiet here, save for the desolate moan of the night wind as it swept through the bare branches of the trees. And the moon, rising higher and higher in its starry realm, cast its mellow light upon their swaying tops. Bert shuddered as he walked briskly to his own dormitory, and he was glad to find himself at last alone and in his own room. How many hours he sat smoothing the creases out of that bill he neve r knew. But before he