North Central High School - Tamarack Yearbook (Spokane, WA)

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NGRTHERN LIGHT 31 Bill dismounted and slipped his arm about the neck of his mount. Lying before him was wave on wave of hill, stretching as far as the eye could see. Hills clothed in the rich green of virgin timber, marred here and there by the discordant grey of burned-over areas. Numerous lakes lay diamond-like in their setting of deep green. To his left, a silver thread, the Lockshaw, wound hesitatingly between pine-crested banks. The valleys and canyons were smoth- ered Linder a deep mantle of mist, which rose and fell with the movement of the ever rest- less ocean, as the morning breezes gamboled above. The twittering of the birds filled the air. He heard the warning stamp of a deer which had unwarily happened upon him, and heizvatched it disappear in a dense thicket. He heard the howl of a belated coyote. This was life! He heard the call of nature, and was thrice happy to be living. But the smile of satisfaction vanished from his face as he turned and saw the progress the two fires had made. Of course, they were not burning as rapidly they had been the evening before, but they were burning at a greater speed than they were wont to burn in the morning. The north end of the Bear Meadows fire was bordering on a heavy strip of pine which covered the hillside below the trail. The Canyon Creek fire was smoking profusely. However, he could not see whether it had made much head- way, because it was on the other side of the next ridge. Bill whistled in consternation. Gee whiz, when the Bear Meadows fire hits that pine, there won't be two fires- there'll be just one big one. Well, I'll ride along. He swung into the saddle and soon his cayuse was singlefooting down the trail. At noon he opened up his saddlebags and ate sar- dines and raisins as he sat by a little spring where he drank, and filled his canteen. Qnce more on the trail, he sank into deep thought. He was aroused by a deep Booml, as that of a far away cannon. A big puff of smoke arose over the top of the trees in the direction of the Bear Meadow's fire. Bill knew by this that it had started up the hill. He did not think. That one look told him what to do. He dug his heels into the flanks of his horse, and they were away, pounding swiftly over the smooth trail. Bill's cayuse, for all his knock knees, was able to lay a great many footprints behind him in a very short time. Bill took a down hill trail that led to Castle Butte ranger sta- tion, about a mile in front of the fire. The station, though long since evacuated, sheltered a telephone. Bill's cayuse, sensing an urgent reason for this sudden burst of speed, lay low to the trail, the Hying foam from his jaws flecking the hands and legs of his rider. At last Bill reined i him in on his haunches in the midst of an old burn about a quarter of a mile from the cabin, for he knew that his chances of getting out, once he reached the cabin, were doubtful, and if he left the horse here, it, at least, would be saved. So many thoughts passed through Bill's mind as he ran- that quarter mile up the trail, that it would be useless to attempt to tell you of them. He heard the flames roaring and tlf crash as huge trees fell. After what seemed hours of lung bursting exertion, he gained the cabin. As he dived through the door he heard the Hames roaring overhead. The ire had overtaken him. He knew 'he had a chance to escape if he retreated immediately, but the message must go through, or the sheep men would be trapped like rats. He rushed to the telephone and rang the Bear Meadows fire camp. Hello, Vlfisholt? Send the whole crew up to keep the Coolwater trail open. Don't fail because -a sharp crack, a rush, a roar, and then a sickening crash as a giant cedar fel' across the little cabin, crushing it as if it were an eggshell. Then the flames began their work. Later, when the fire was under control, the crew approached the spot where the cabin had stood. They were surprised to see two sheep men standing there reverently, with bared heads. The herders had found in the ruins a blackened forest service badge, and the hob- nailed sole of a boot. And behind these two men was a knock- kneed cayuse, saddled and bridled, waiting faithfully for the master who would never come.-VVayne Bevis. .,..o,io...-. FOCH ENTERTAINMENT North Central students played an important part in helping to entertain Marshal Foch and his military party on Tuesday, November 20. On stepping off the train Marshal Foch was presented with a huge bouquet of red roses from North Central students, by Aileen Lin- ney, assisted by Lois Byler and Elizabeth Poole. A group of North Central girls composed of Irmen G-ibney, Irene Jackson, Mary Vtfilson and Rebecca McHenry gave several cowgirl and milkmaid dances at the banquet given in honor of Marshal lfoch at the Davenport ho- tel, Tuesday evening. Rebecca McHenry gave a solo dance and presented the marshal with a large Spitzenberg apple tied with red, white and blue ribbons. As Miss Spokane, Mrs. Walter Shiel, for- mer dramatic coach at North Central, came at the invitation of the Spokane to Spokane Advertising club to give Spokane's address of welcome to the noted general.

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I 1 30 NORTHERN LIGHT I we can hear Cicero or to the rostrums of Greece where we may listen to the magic elo- quence of Demosthenes. Nor is reading a matter of wealth, for the poorest boy can converse freely with the great- est philosophers, scientists and statesmen the world has ever seen. Through books he may revel in the intellect of Plato or of Socrates. The ragged bootblack can act in Hamlet with Shakespeare. The day laborer can listen. to Homer reciting in the Grecian groves. The ditch-digger may follow Caesar in his cam- paigns, or Alexander in the conquest of the world. Milton will cross the threshold to sing to one in rags, the story of Paradise. The psalmist will enter the meanest hovel to repro- duce his immortal chants. Do you wish to travel? You can do so without a steamer or a train by reading the books of travel. You can go to London, visit the Buckingham Palace or the National Art Gallery. Perhaps you would like to visit and inspect the tomb of Napoleon or promenade through the Champs Elysee. Go to China, if you will, and sup with the Mandarin or watch the Geisha girls dance. In the world of poetry, Emerson, Riley or Longfellow, and many other masters and princes of poets have a message for you. O, the world of books is here, enter and par- take of its wisdom and its pleasures. Taste of the fruits of good works. Great books, like the soul of man, are immortal. Like man, they are the salt of the earth. The Kingdom of Books beckons. Why falter? Life is short, and I wonder that the stones do not cry out if we heed not the call of one of the earth's greatest blessings. . However full days or weeks or years have been of trouble, or even sin, the miracle, the great conversion, may be Wrought by the per- usal of great books-immortal works-and all the unrest, the trial ,the sorrow shall be lifted, the burdens removed, and the soul caught up to ineffable joy and life and light.-Robert Zimmerman. imolol. WHERE THE B IG FIRES BURN Second Prize, Ne WS Literary Comes: ILL MCGREGGORS eyes were blinded by the blood colored 11 sun, which, in setting, cast a m,Q,H 53532, fiery glare over the huge column 'f'3j'fm'3 'i' of smoke that rose from the Q' If ,t , I ,QI 3.55 i 9 Bear Meadows fire. In the crimson light the billows of smoke boiled and writhed like things alive, ever changing themselves from shapless mas- ses to fantastic forms. Forms which faded into nothingness even as they were forming. As Bill sat there on his horse, watching this pan- orama of nature spread out before him, there lioated across on the still, fragrant air, the delicate musical tinkle of a bell in the sheep camp, hundreds of feet below him. VVith a deep sigh, compelled by the beauty of the scene before him, and the very joy of living, he picked up the reins, and by a gentle touch of his heels, started his horse down the trail to the camp. As he neared the bottom of the hill, a break in the trees before him revealed one of nature's rarest pictures. A tiny lake lay between two towering crags, which, in the fast deepening dusk. cast huge, vague shadows on the surface of the lake. The wierd, low call of a mourning done reminded him that nightfall was near, and brought him from his reverie. He hurried on, and entered the 4 1 sheep camp. Soon the two herders came in, and they all sat down to supper. After the meal was over, Bill delivered his warning. Say, fellows, the boss sent me up to tell you that it's best to get out. Fires are getting big and it ain't safe. The sheep men looked at one another in disappointment, for this loca- tion was good grazing land, and they hated to leave it. As the moon stole from cloud to cloud, and the embers of the fire slowly faded, they went to bed. Next morning Bill rose early, and after a hasty breakfast, started up the hill opposite the one he had descended the previous evening. The ranger was in high spirits. The pure mor- ning air invigorated him, and every fibre of his body thrilled to the joy of living. As his cayuse buckled to the work of climbing the steep hill, Bill leaned forward and patted its now dampened shoulders. Well, old top, snap into it, ,cause this is your last ride this season. When we get back to the station you'll be turned out, and you sure deserve it. The horse's ears lay back for a moment as he caught the familiar tone of his master's voice. Perfect understanding existed between him and Bill. They were old pals of the trail. The crest of the ridge was reached just as the sun came over the top of MacLinder Butte.

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32 NORTHERN LIGHT HJ H9 43 ogg fi fybtitajgvi di XNXIWMVI THE PRICE GF BEING BEAUTIFUL Third Prize, News Literary Contest. HEPE is a great and ever pre sent demand for beauty This IS especially true of girls If a man IS clean and neatly dressed he vx1ll pass but a gnl has no ty oi she IS a creature to be pit 1ed Even very small boys pick out the prettiest fluffiest girl for their sweetheart Is it to be 4 Y X - :mm . L . . . . Qiiiib . ' iii-' 1' H ' U ' ' r y ,SQ -VJQLM, such chance: she must be pret- J. f' -:Ju - . . - fgsrrrzriryg . ' ' - .Llp - ' ' 7 wondered at, then, that girls shamelessly strive for beautv? There are girls who are naturally beautiful, or at least attractive. These girls are secretly envied by their girl friends, while the boys openly admire and pursue them. Un the other hand there are many who are unattractive or even repulsive to look at. They may be very good at heart, but a good heart is much more desirable when it is set oh' by a beautiful face. Certainly it is not strange that even the most hopeless cases should strive to acquire the beauty that they feel should have been theirs. When I think of the agonies I have suffered in my quest for beauty, I cannot help laughing, even when I know that at present I am doing even more absurd things to gain the distant goal of Beauty. The search for beauty seems so hopeless, we all see it but we cannot reach it. Perhaps this all sounds absurd, but all vani- ties of life are inclined to be ridiculous. Maybe the horror of being called a smoked Swede seems quite a joke to you, but it is a real grief to me. Nothing could be worse than to possess light hair, dark eyes and a dark complexion. In fact, my brother has gone so far as to tell me he can't tell where my hair begins and my face leaves off. Surely, nothing could be more trying. I have tried to bleach my skin, but it is use- less! I shall never forget the salt mixtures, the cucumber lotion, or the lemons I have used on my long suffering face! The salt burned wick- edly and the lemon was worse still, but the cu- cumber lotion was the most disastrous ! At first all went well, and I began to have hopes of a creamy white complexion. Then my skin lit- erally shrivelled until I could scarcely see out of my eyes, they were so badly misplaced. That wasnit all. I could have stood that. But the warped skin began to peel and I thought it would never stop. At last, it quit burning, and I picked up my courage and examined my face. I was truly a rosebud, only my brother chose to compare me to a lobster. Gradually the ugly red was replaced by the creamy white I had coveted. That was a great joy to me, but unfortunately it did not last, and I hadn't the courage to try it again. Even the thoughts of that wonderful' coloring couldn't tempt me. Life is too dear! A very beautiful friend told me that cold baths made the skin soft and pretty. That sounds easy enough, but it is far from simple. just try getting out of a warm bed and into a cold bath when the temperature is zero or be- low. Your teeth chatter, and your muscles seem to freeze, but you feel fine when it's over. Sometimes I even fancy my skin is get- ting lighter, but I always know that it isn't. Then there has always been my hair. It seems a pity that we couldn't all have curly hair. You can always curl it yourself, but then it is sure to -go straight at the wrong time. It is horrid to have it go straight in five minutes, when you have slept on a dozen or so vicious aluminum curlers the night before to make those same curls. Besides it's very mortifying to go down town with wavy locks and then come home with stringy locks. I-Iowever, my bangs are a great comfort to me, but even they are a source of worry. They, too, must be curled. Once I burned my fore- head so badly that it was necessary to wear a ribbon around my head for two weeks. That was a disgrace, for I was a Sophomore at the time. And then- every night I sleep on them at a different angle, and every morning they have a dozen different twists. That means work and patience. After such a siege it is very discouraging to have your brother tell you that you look like a freak with those things sticking up. Once, just to get even with him, I wore his skull cap to bed, but I didn't get them back to normal for a week. Of course, there is always my nose, but even clothes pins and splints failed to help it. In fact after my last treatment it became so red and swollen that mother became alarmed and sent me to the doctor. I-Ie said I must have injured it. Even I knew that much. In fact, I am far too wide every way, but there seems no help for it. You cannot conceive of my horror of being wide. I really mean fat, but somehow wide doesn't seem so severe and absolutely hopeless. Naturally all this seems childish and foolish to you, but the next time you feel inclined to laugh at someone's little vanities just consider his side of the question, and remember that you, yourself, unconsciously show a preference for a pretty friend. Perhaps you have even tried to beautify yourself. VVe pay the price for beauty, but we do not get the value. Life's vanities are mere bubbles. -Janice McAvoy.