Plainfield High School - Milestone Yearbook (Plainfield, NJ)

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LZ THE- ORACLE “Then with a low bow he withdrew without another word. Of course, | was fairly itching to know the identity of the man and Mason explained. It seemed that he and his men had been about the worst band of smugglers who ever defied a feeble Government. | Why he was letting us escape to report h im I don’t know, probably thought to have his men stationed where they could end us with the least possible commotion, so that he could wash his hands of the whole affair. “That evening, bringing to our rooms our packs and rifles and food for the journey, a servant guided us from the house. A little hamlet of paper-like huts lay by the river, but we saw no one and the servant, after showing us our road, turned and reentered the house. “We hiked swiftly algng keeping a sharp watch about us and also off the beaten roadway, though parallel to it. We made camp that night in a secluded corner of the ruins, which, by the way, were so far destroyed as to be of little interest, and one of us stood guard and watched all night. When morning | came we set out across the mountains to the eastward, stopping only for a hasty inspection of the ruins, and, as the going was not as hard as the trip up the river valley, we reached here in three days without mishap.” “And Cole,’ Ted added, “Carl and I have decided to keep this matter dark, for though a criminal, he has undoubtedly accomplished a great deal for those isolated people. | We hope you will agree with us.” ‘Their hands met across the embers of the fire and there the secret rests.

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THE ORACLE 11 with the man, for all our efforts to find it went to naught, though, I guess, we lost our bearings. We crawled back to the pagoda soaked thru’ and resolved to stand watch the rest of the night. I certainly must have fallen very soundly asleep, for all I remember was Carl, here, kicking me in the ribs and firing over the rail of the pagoda. Then there was a groan and he fell limply to the floor. I had just time to see a shadowy form thru’ the sights of my rifle when they got me. Sandbagged both of us. “When I regained consciousness it was broad daylight. The two of us, Mason and I, were lying on couches at either side of a small room. The walls were hung with silks and the ornate carving on the furniture gave a suggestion of days when workmen worked with greatest care rather than by the hasty modern methods. ‘The house seemingly belonged to a wealthy mandarin or merchant. “We had the liberty of that one room only, for the door of strong solid wood was securely locked and the one window, little more than a peep-hole, was heavily barred. Mason was sleeping, and, remembering the happenings of the night, I decided not to wake him, but did a little exploring on my own hook. My head ached a good deal and my walk was rather unsteady, but I got over this by nightfall. “T had nearly completed my inspection and was about to rouse Mason when the door opened and a man, who appeared to be the owner of the place, entered followed by a servant bearing food. We ate and the servant, at the command of the aged Chinaman, had left with the dishes before he spoke. “You are Americans, I judge,’ he said, speaking English easily and with almost no accent. We replied in the affirmative, and, at his request related our experiences in finding our way there. He grew greatly excited and his worn face became very sad when we told him of the death of the priest that had given Cole the manuscripts and when we told of the death of the messenger. He sank into a gloomy reverie and did not seem to hear a word of our other adven- tures until we came to the fight at the pagonda. Here he interrupted us saying: “ T am very sorry this thing should have happened. My men acted without my orders and did as they thought best. No other white man has ever reached the valley and the way you came will never be used again. I am known to the people of China aa, the priest, of whom you spoke, was my brother.’ “Carl started up with a cry of surprise, but the name was unfamiliar to me. “The Chinaman ignored our interruption and continued. ‘I have given my life to the people of this valley, have brought modern inventions for their use and made them prosperous and happy. ‘They are Christians, for, as you know, I was brought up in England, and have taught them the belief of the whites. I do not attempt to defend my methods, but I accomplished my purpose. The ruins you seek are in this valley further to the south. It is a village once used by the people’s ancestors from the time of the beginning until a few centuries ago when it was destroyed by earthquakes and fire. You will find a road leading east from the ruins of the temple. Follow it and you will come to the village just south of the one you left. Tonight you may go, only beware of my men for they are suspicious of strangers as you can readily imagine and would not permit your escape.’

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THE ORACLE 13 The Forest That Sang (Written by the Winner of the Babcock Prize—Evelyn Tennyson.) “Amelita, my Amelita; O to hear your voice again! Ah, me,—once I was happy, but now, why must I live? When you, Amelita, were here, I had some- thing for which to live. O why did you have to leave me?” Bemoaning thus, Antonio Silvano, a lonely wood-cutter, left his humble home for the deep forest, where, a year before, his only daughter, Amelita, had disappeared while playing. All seaching had been in vain, for no traces of her were ever found. It was here, too, that her father worked all day, earning his living by chopping wood. In the evening he whiled away his time turning a stick of wood into a bird, a goat, or a child, with his skillful knife. This work gave him much pleasure, for as his daughter once had shown delight in his toys, so did the children of the village revel in them. At the ringing of the church bell in the small Lombard town announcing noon, Antonio laid down his axe and seated himself beneath one of the tall, spicy pine trees to eat his mid-day meal of coarse brown bread, cheese, and wine. For him the trees had a peculiar fascination. They seemed like so many people whispering and bowing to each other. He loved them; they were his friends. Drowsy from his morning of hard labor, his head slowly sank upon his breast -in sleep. Presently, a breeze stirred: Among the many leaves it played a sweet, plaintive song, accompanied by the whistling of the pines. A faint flicker of a smile was on Antonio’s face. He raised his head. -““Amelita,’” he murmured. By degrees the music grew in volume, filled with breadth and splendor. Sounding chords caught from the.distance, one by one -were woven in. All the joy and beauty of the world were a part of it. But yet, there was something more. It was the cry of a soul in bondage, straining to be free,—struggling to break the chains and take its place with those who were alive. | Standing with arms uplifted, the wood-cutter cried, ‘““Amelita, my daughter! Have you come back? Speak, my child.” But the voice had ceased, and the only answer he received was the falling of a large, loose limb from a tree, that the wind had disentangled from its branches. That night Antonio-started early for bed, as if trying to push: ahead the hours, for he was impatient for the morning to come. He wanted to get back into the forest, for maybe—, he would hear the voice again. A noise startled him. He listened; someone was at the door. No, it was only the wind; he was mistaken. Antonio went to the open window and looked towards the forest. Yes, there they were,—his trees, and the trees that somewhere in their depths sheltered his lost child. The wind blew, the trees stirred, and to Antonio it seemed as if they were waving good-night to him, and not knowing why, he waved his hand in response.