Marshall High School - John Quill Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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of the broomstick and a kitchen knife. .But instead of the knife hitting you, a piece of ice I had in my hand-my right hand steadying the knife-'sliced' you, and the knife only carved up the mast a bit. But your foggy head misinterpreted signals, and you thought you were killed. Quite a shock, naturally, and you came out of it. The younger man turned toward the doctor with a twisted grin on his face. Screaming wildly, Get that Heinie, the dirty rat, he jerked his hand out of his pocket leveled the revolver he always carried, at the doctor, and fired all six shots rapidly into the body of his companion. Laughing crazily he' stumbled forward toward the body. But, with a loud creak, the mainsail whizzed across the deck again. Poor crazed Bill was knocked overboard, unconscious. And there are sharks in the waters of the southern Pacific. A steamer sailing majestically along its course noted that a yawl nearly in its path failed to return the pilot's warning. All on board were completely mystified to learn the results of the investigation which followed. A man was found on board, dead, with six bullets in his body. No one else was aboard, and the only gun on the boat contained six unfired cartridges. THOMAS ENRIGHT, Il-l --.oL1Qi-u--- Advertisements OULDN'T it be strange to open a magazine or newspaper and Find no advertisements? Yet it would be sad too, for what is more in- ' vigorating than the funny but absurd ads that are in these papers or books. Perhaps the best known of any advertise- ment is the much talked of T1lCj'FIGHgllCd-'Zt'lLC7l- I-sat-dotwz-to-play one. That really is funny. The witty person will go on and on trying to Find or originate a good ending to it. So far he hasn't succeeded. If you are trying to be the life of the party, pull that one. It fits in at any occasion and always draws a dirty look. Another sort of ad that always gets a laugh is the usual letters from Mrs. Asparagus on how she weighed 295 pounds and couldn't lose an ounce until Mrs. Carrots told her about the famous I lllaku Slim Pills. Now she has fallen away to only 294. Or it may be some- thing like this: A picture of an old man with a flowing white beard and numerous wrinkles, or should I say crow's feet, is seen on one side of the page. On the other side we see youth in all its glory depicted by a Pepsodent grin, beautiful curly hair, an arrow collar, and a rosy complexion. This is the some man after one night's sleep on Sleep-Eze Beal Springs. We turn the page, and our eyes behold a gorgeous blond creature, in amoreigorgeous twenty-eight evening-gown, on her hands and knees mop- ping the kitchen Hoor, and on her face is the patient and beatific smile of an angel. Under the picture is written VVhy let mopping be a drudge? Simple buy an Eye-Catclmm Dirt Mop. Even your best friendsbwill mop your floor for you then. Soap advertisements are as funny as a Micky-Mouse Comedy. One finds Mrs. XX-'hite hanging out a beautiful snow-white wash in her backyard. Over the fence we catch a glimpse of Mrs. Black staggering under the load of a smoky-toned wash in an old battered basket. Here we also spy several holes in the good family linen. In the next scene, Mrs. Xlfhite rushes to the gate, beckons to Mrs. Black and says, My dear Mrs. Black, what a dirty wash you have. See how white mine it. Next month, you must try Dip-fmd- If's-Clmii-Soap. I always use it. The more you look, the more you laugh, and so you continue on and on through the book, forgetful of the thrilling murder 'story you started to read. And if you feel ill on a streetcar, just look at the advertisements of soup, soap, tooth-paste, fountain-pens, re- frigerators, Hoor-wax, linoleum, molasses, typewriters, chewing-gum, F lit, and corn- plasters. You'll feel much better. .. Dorothy Leonard, .IV-2.

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Bill's head and settled him comfortably on the bed. Bill, he thought, would be unconscious for a few minutes. He decided to go up on deck and see how the weather looked. It wouldn't do to go too far to sea with Bill injured. Arriving on deck Doc gazed out over the waters. Not a ship in sight. Vtfeather con- ditions seemed very favorable. He lit his pipe and sat down, with his back to the tiller, look- ing in the direction of the little island, which had already disappeared. A slight noise interrupted the thinking man and he turned around. There, framed in the doorway, stood Bill, with a broomstick in his hands, held like a bayonet. Hair disheveled, eyes wild, and mouth twisted in a diabolical grin he charged the Doc, muttering incoherent noises. He jabbed viciously at Doc with the broomstick and Doc jumped hastily aside. Turning quickly Doc met Bill's second rush with a well aimed blow. Down Bill went, but he soon recovered. He jumped to his feet, grunting something about a rotten, dirty bunch, the whole gang of you, and hit Doc a stinging crack. Back and forth they swayed, punching and grunting. Finally Doc, with a strong right-hand blow, felled Bill. Bill dropped and could not rise. Doc picked him up and took him below. The yawl was headed into the wind, churn- ing the waters at every foot. Spray dashed over the bow and sprinkled Doc, who was settled amidships, from head to toe. Doc's eyes were bleary, but he had an alert air, as is expecting something to happen. But Bill appeared quietly from the cabin, greeted the medical man carelessly, and inquired about their next stop. Oh, I don't know, answered Doc, I thought maybe y0u'd like to stop at the Isle of Yari, an interesting volcanic formation, and we can get food and water again. Yeh, said Bill absently, how long will it take to get there? Oh, we should get there by evening, he answereditlioughtfully, that is, if the wind holds out like this. But-a-we- Bill stammerecl, bewild- ered, then he went below abruptly, without finishing his question. He reappeared shortly, smoking a cigarette. He leaned on the rail, gazing thoughtfully out to sea. Doc, he said slowly, what has been going on around here? We shouldn't need water as far as I knowg yet I just looked and found we did. And your desk calendar is five days ahead of schedule, as far as I can figure out. The food is lower too, and how did I get this gash on my forehead ? Well, Doc answered, looking up at him seriously, I'll tell you the whole story. You may remember that I took a swing at you in fun when you didn't want to cook dinner. I was a fool to get playful with that mainsail swinging back and forth. Anyway, it hit you a nasty crack on the head, but the gash wasn't the only result. To come to the point, Bill, you went back to war, and mistook me for a Heinie. Lucky thing I knew about your case, it saved both of us. I managed to bring back your reason, but you were still in bad shape-- nervous strain. mostly, and the blow itself didn't help any. So I kept you under morphine to give your brain a -chance to heal, afraid you might get more notions about the war. You came out of it this morning, and thank God, you're O. K. Bill flicked his cigarette stub over the rail. I see, he said quietly. How on earth did you bring back my senses FU Not so difficult as it might seem, Bill. I simply scared you into your wits, since you were already out of them. A few dish-pans and covers tied on to the flapping sail so they'd hit together and make enough racket and con- fusion to sound like a battlefield scene to your hazy brain, I fired a few shots to give you the smell of powder. You were bound securely to the mast, and yelling rather incoherently. Then, shouting all the German curses I could think of, I lunged at you with a bayonet made twenty-seven

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r si I Qu, iles? Q T . t . 5 X 'Q ' . af'a 2. N X Xi 2 2 XX, . - 5- A FISH Prize Poem Through tlzc rippling 'zciazfes it flashes Like a gleam of silver ' Into the clear, cool depths it splashes, Its Sllllllllg body all aquizfer. Quickly here and there it darts Exploring the mystic deep,- Then from its playful mates it parts To disturb the mermaids in their sleep. Through the green-dreazclzed 'water zfalleys It swims on and on,' In crystal blue alcozfes it dailies Until tlze nofvclty is gone. Up, up thro-ugh the sparkling deep I t sliimm-ers like a jewelg Its beauty it will forever keep, Cherislzed in that spangled pool. Isabella Stratton, I I I -Z. tw enty-'nine