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Page 17 text:
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THE MAGNET 9 the mate and myself, scooted below like a crowd of frightened Chinamen. I don’t blame them; I would have gone myself if I hadn't felt it my duty, as captain, to stay on deck. I suppose the mate felt as if he ought to stick with me. I spoke to him and we went into the wheelhouse. “ Pretty soon the thing stopped moving and a foot more of pipe grew up. Then a big round box, which was hitched on to the bottom of the pipe, appeared. This box was about six feet across and six feet tall. Next, under the box, came a big, black, oval thing about seventy-fiv e feet long and ten feet across. It looked like the back of a whale, but I knew it wasn't, because a whale doesn’t have a pilot-house and funnel amidships. Besides, this thing didn’t have any dorsal fin. Honestly, I was scared stiff. Suddenly I heard a bang from the after hatch which I recognized as Jim Stevens’ double-barreled shotgun. I waited, not knowing whether to expect a bark, grunt, or squeal from the thing on our starboard bow. I half ex- pected to see it flop up on the deck and sink us. It never moved. I waited for what seemed an hour. Then suddenly a cover on the top of the box opened and out popped a man’s head. You could have knocked me over with a feather. The man looked at us a minute ‘and then hollered out through a megaphone, ‘ Ship ahoy!’ ‘Ahoy yourself,’ I cried back. ‘Who are you? What are you doing here?’ “ U. S. submarine Dolphin, Lieut. Kendall. We are on our trial trips, but our compass broke and I don t know whether we are heading for Europe or Africa. Have you an extra compass I could buy?’ “T replied that I had, and so, taking four of my men, who by this time had gotten over the scare, I rowed over to the submarine with the compass. When IJ arrived there, I started to ask him some questions, but he only said, ‘Sorry, but I can’t answer any question.’ He took the compass, paid me for it, closed the cover to the box, and by the time we reached the schooner the submarine, with the exception of the foot of the pipe, was submerged, and making off at seven knots an hour.” EDWARD Knapp, ’18. The Wreck 6¢ UT where is the station?” inquired the Judge. ‘Ain't none, boss, Dis heah’s jes a crossing. Train’s about due now; you-all won’t hab long fer to wait. Thanky, sah; good-by.”’ The Judge picked up his gun-case and grip and walked toward his two companions, waiting on the platform a few yards away. Silhouetted against the moonlight they made him think of the number ten, for Mr. Appleton was tall and erect and the little Doctor short and circular. The Judge stopped beside them and dropped his baggage on the platform. He and his two companions had been on an unsuccessful hunting trip and were not in a very good frame of mind. The darkey who had led them to the crossing was right, for they had not been waiting five minutes when the train rumbled in. Once seated
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Page 16 text:
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8 THE MAGNET a noise. Tommy stood still a moment, but as the noise was not repeated, he again took up his search for the door. The minute he moved the noise began again. By this time Tommy was thoroughly frightened. It was so dark, and what could that noise be? He decided to sit still a while and see if the noise was repeated. How Tommy passed the rest of the night he never could tell. Every time he moved that awful, creaking, noise began again. When he sat still it stopped, but the moment he moved it began again. Some of the time he sat breathless with terror, and then, gaining courage, he would move around, only to have the creaking sound start once more. After an interminably long time the car began to grow lighter and sun- beams filtered throngh the cracks. Soon Tommy could see the faint out- lines of the door. Having located it, he mustered his courage and went toward it. To his surprise he found that the noise seemed to have gone with the coming of the light. Opening the door with difficulty, Tommy jumped out of the car and started for home. When he arrived there he found that his father and mother had searched the neighborhood for him and reported to the police that he was lost. After explaining as best he could, Tommy decided to go to bed and finish his sleep. Next afternoon, he met his friends on the corner. ‘‘ Aw, you got lost yesterday, didn’t you?” was the question which greeted him. “Course not! Say you fellows must have thought I was going to hide all night. I waited for you to come until I got sick of it and then I went home.” This was Tommy’s explanation to his friends. He probably would have been very indignant if any one had explained the queer noise he had heard as the working of an over excited imagination. RuTH THOMPSON, ’17. An Old Sailor’s Story 66 AVE I ever had any interesting or exciting adventures during my thirty years at sea? Yes,I had one that would answer that question admirably. “Tt was ten or twelve years ago, when I was captain of the Kingbird, a two-masted fishing schooner. We had had fair luck and were off the coast of Maine. That morning four of the men—there were eleven in all—were out in a dory, about a mile away. Twas somewhere near ten o’clock when one of the men on board came running up to me and pointed out an object some four hundred yards away. I took a look through my glass and could hardly believe my eyes. There was a stove-pipe, about six inches in diameter and a foot out of water, heading directly for us at seven knots an hour. It came steadily on until a hundred and fifty yards away, when that pipe began actually to grow un- til it was five feet out of water. Now my men weren’t a superstitious lot; but, when that pipe began to come right out of the water, every man, except
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Page 18 text:
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T0 THE MAGNET comfortably in the smoker, the Judge and his two companions soon forgot their troubles. After all, this would not be the first time they had returned empty-handed from a hunting trip. It was a four hours’ trip to New York, and the men had just settled down to their long ride when there came a crash that landed them in the middle of the aisle. They rushed out of the car, only to find that the train had been derailed. | The Judge scratched his head. He wasina pretty fix. It was Sunday night, and the next morning at ten o’clock he must be in New York to pre- side over a session of the criminal court. While the Judge was meditating, he heard a step behind him and turned to see a tall, lanky farmer. «What seems to be the trouble, mister? ” “Trouble!” cried the Judge. ‘‘ Why, I’ve got to be in New York at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, and the train is likely to be delayed until then.” ‘Wal, there’s another railroad about thirty miles from here. Maybe I would take you over in my wagon.” “How much will you charge to take three?” exclaimed the Judge, eag- erly. “Wal,” replied the farmer, ‘‘I orter get fifteen dollars.” “Done!” said the Judge, handing over the money. “You get your wagon while I get my friends and baggage.” A half hour later the Judge and his two companions, perched very un- comfortably in an ancient two-seated wagon, were rattling along toward Heckersville, which boasted a New York Central railroad station. About five o’clock the next morning, after a night of torture to the occupants, the wagon came in sight of the station, which was half a mile away. The hopes of the Judge ran high; but were doomed to drop below par when Napole on, the old horse, stopped. The farmer got out and looked Napoleon over. Finally he clambered back into the wagon. ‘Napoleon has stepped on a tack,” stated the farmer, “and he needs a little persuasion to go on.” “What can this persuasion be?”’ asked the Judge. “Fifty dollars.” “Fifty dollars!” exclaimed the Judge. ‘‘ Why, it is robbery!” “Pay it or not, just as you please,” replied the farmer; ‘but I'd pay it if I was you, because the train’s about due and you can’t get another until this afternoon.” A distant whistle corroborated the farmer’s statement, so the Judge paid the amount; but not without silent mutterings, for he loved his money. ‘‘Giddap!”’ cried the farmer, and Napoleon moved off at a gallop that belied his looks. They arrived at the station just as the train rolled in and had barely time to get on with their baggage before it started off. ‘“Good-by and good luck!” shouted the farmer, but the grinding of the wheels shut off the Judge's reply.
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