Madera Union High School - Blue and White Yearbook (Madera, CA)

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There was no longer any chance of escape. The detective was watching me all the time, whether to read my mind, or prevent any false movement I do not know. We finally reached the court house and, there was no trial going on. I was immediately brought before the Judge. The session in the court room was brief. Detective White stated his case, how he had seen me around Mrs. Mu- jera’s residence and how the next day, Mrs. Mujera had reported the missing jewel. “And if you want my way of thinking, sir, that you'll find the ring on him,” he said. “Has the prisoner a word to say concerning this matter?” asked the Judge facing me. “Tt is true, Senor,” I said, “that I have a ring in my possession, but I deny that I have not paid for it rightly. That is all I have to say.” I reached in my vest pocket and placed the treasure before the Judge on a table. Ile was about to open it when some one said, “Here is Mrs. Mujera.” At the first instant, all I saw was rather a young woman dressed in expensive furs. The next instant I saw how she cast a look of kindness upon my weary face. The Judge bowed, “You have arrived just in time, madam. Will you step to the table, please, and identify your ring ?” The lady walked calmly to the table. “Well, at last you have found it, have you? Let me see. I can easily tell whether it is mine.” There seemed to me some great kindness in Mrs. Mujera’s voice and yet T thought she was a woman that stood for the right. My fears were for the worst. I knew that if she was the owner of the ring, that she would immed- iately claim it. That seemed but natural. What then was my heart’s desire when she slowly opened the NOY box and said, gently, “No you have made a mistake. This is not my ring.’ At that moment I was a little dazed. As I walked out of the court room, a free man, with the costly treasure in my hand, I cast a sneering glance at the detective. His face was burning with anger because of defeat sina had resulted. My first thought was of my Marinela and I started out in a trot towar d ithe outskirts of the town until I reached a tiny villa surrounded by gardens and lawn. No one could feel more perfect than I as I walked up that cement side walk. Why should I not be happy? Soon I would be with my Marinela, who always greeted me with her smiles and laughed at the portly Don Vanzu- ela, who iene to gain her with things that money could buy. How little he knew my Marinela, 7 thought as I rang the door bell and awaited her gentle smile. A maid answered the door. “Ah,” T said, “Es la senorita Marinela a la casa?” but as I saw she did not understand me I said again in English “Ah, is the senorita Marinela at home?” “No,” she said. “She eloped at three o’clock this afternoon with Don Vanzuela.” —FERN SKAGGS, ’22.

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Carramba ! Golfin !” A voice called me but it was not sweet but very unfriendly. There are ways of calling my name. When Marinela says it, her voice is sweet and soft; this one was rough and harsh and rather faz iliar, and so I paid no at- tention to it. Golfin!” The voice called again, more loud y than before and right into my ear. In an instant a hand reached out and jerked me suddenly toward the unknown speaker. It was so unusual and go sudck en IL would have lost my balance but for the firmness of grasp. I found myself facing detective White, one of those Republican govern- ment men, who parade by the water fronts or walk the city streets, pretend- ing to be inattentive and ordinary, when all the time they are sizing up every passerby and are ready to pounce on any suspected one any minute. “Que es eso?” I said quic kly, and was very courteous. It is well to be po- lite to these foreign Be But the detective was not to be fooled. “Cut the rough stuff,” he said, “I’m not here to hear your Spanish lingo. Come. You thought you could get away with the stuff, did you? Well, there'll be one more of these darn foreigners sent over board, if I have anything to do with it.” The laugh that followed these words were cruel and teasing, but the few people that visited this crowded street of San Salvador. used to such sights, took no notice of it. I felt my cheeks reddening, knowing that, since the precious box was in my possession, I must put on a bold appearance. “Senior,” I said calmly, “you are vying to accuse me of some wrong of which I am not guilty. But, whatever it i s I must tell you that I am wrongly judged. You can ask any one as to my ae in the past. El madre 3 “That is neither here nor there,” he answered abruptly. “If you are in- nocent you will have a chance to prove it, and if guilty—come, or shall I take you with the aid of a gun.” I saw that it was useless to resist and say any more and so replied, “Muy bien, Senor, voy con Usted.” We passed in and out of the many streets. The detective had a hand on my shoulder in a very firm clasp, and we proceeded on our way. He was not talking and I was thinking hard and fast. There must be some w: ay of escape, and, if there was I mus fei te ly think of it. Time however, was precious, and, we were coming nearer to the rae house all the time. AIL my reasoning and thinking, however, 0 ie seemed to be of that one small box in my vest pocket. If I could only get rid of that thing, all would be well with me. But, after all the trouble of getting that expensive pearl for my Marinela, I was not overly anxious to part with it as to keep it and go against the waves. Mhey say a man will put himself before anything for love, and I truly think I would have gladly faced the hereafter itself, if 1 might first see the look of gladness on Marinela’s face when I should place the treasured ring on her finger. 28

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California Of all the states, from east to west, California has stood the test. I see her, as upon a throne She rules supremely, and alone. No other with her can compare, There is no other half so fair. She’s rich in climate and in wealth, And more than these she’s rich in health. From the Sierras to the sea Lie glades of rich fertility. Here Phoebus shines serene and gay, And always fades on a perfect day. Of all the trails beneath the sun, To California’s the best one. Come enter through the Golden Gate To California, my native state. —MARIE MOORK, 721. Ballad Professor Teall of Madera By his right hand thumb he swore, That the Members of our own high school, Should battle with chalk no more. By his right hand thumb he swore it And named a trysting place, And bade the Juniors all come forth To acknowledge their disgrace. The Juniors all came forward With tongue and forelock straight, And solemnly swore by June That there be no more chalk debates. Now yow'll see the Juniors standing And looking kind of glum, As though they’re all a thinking Of a very dear lost chum. —TOLA SAFFORD, 723. 30