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Page 10 text:
THE POTTER SHIELD
The Western Champion
C CWELL, I know it. We can't get that fold out, no matter how we fix it.'
"It won t make any difference. They won't trip over it, and Dread-
naught will knock him out anyhow." . 0 ,
r "Oh! Let it go! If anyone trips it will be 'Knock-out' Brown. He s no good.
This conversation took place on the forward deck of the U. S. S. Mznnesota.
The objects of the conversation were "Dreadnaught" Hooker, champion heavy-
weight of the Minnesota, and "Knock-out" Brown, ex-prize-lighter and champion
heavyweight of the 146th Battalion of the U. S. Infantry. .The men who had
spoken were laying a piece of canvas on the deck and stretching ropes around it,
forming a prize-ring in preparation for the fight that was to take place the next
evening. This fight was to decide a long contested championship of the Western
division of our Army and the Western fleet of our Navy. The ring for the fight
had been laid directly on the deck. Near the middle of the canvas was a bolt that
was not flush with the planking. This caused the canvas to rise a little, making
the fold mentioned above.
Knock-out Brown was a fighter with a record. He had won seven straight
fights, the last six of which had been "knock-outs." The "Dreadnaught" was just
a mountain of human flesh. He had won most of his fights by sheer weight and
strength, and not by any skill in boxing.
The long-awaited evening arrived at last. The fighters entered the ring and
were introduced to the spectators. Dreadnaught looked his name. He was six
feet four inches in his stocking feet and he weighed two hundred and twelve
pounds. Knock-out Brown also looked the part. He was all muscle, quick as a
cat, and he had the chest of a giant. I-Ie was just five feet eleven inches in stocking
feet and his weight was one hundred and ninety-eight pounds.
The fighters approached each other. There were a few little taps to test one
another and then the fight began in earnest. It was evident that Knock-out deserved
his name. Most of his punches went to his opponent's face, while Dreadnaught's
were all long swings and slow hooks. If that right of Dreadnaught's ever landed,
however, all would be over.
In the second round Knock-out worked around and planted a smash in the
enemy's stomach, followed by a hook to the jaw. The sailor staggered, recovered,
and feebly evaded the onrush of the other. A few seconds later the gong rang.
The third round was all clinches, breaks, and clinches again. Dreadnaught
had not quite recovered from that jab inthe stomach and he was stalling for time.
In the fourth round both men came back hard. There was much quick, fast
Work that set the spectators to cheering wildly. Suddenly Dreadnaught swung.
He caught the soldier on the side of the jaw and laid him flat. The referee's hand
went up and down as he counted out the seconds.
"One! two! three! four! five!" Knock-out stirred and tried to rise. "Six! seven!
eight! nine!" He was on his feet. Dreadnaught seemed to be paying more atten-
tion to the audience than he was to the soldier. Knock-out-'s arm came back, the
arm that had spelled disaster to so many. He had one punch left and he was
going to use it! THEN! The arm came forward like lightning! The sailor, as
he jumped back to avoid the blow, caught his foot on that fatal fold in the canvas.
He fell backwards, the blow just touching his nose, and his head thumped against
the deck! Then all was darkness. Dimly he heard a voice saying: "One! two!
three! four! five! six! seven! eight! nine! Out!"
The referee approached Knock-out. He raised the gloved hand high above his
head and cried: "Knock-out Brown, champion of the Western division of our
Army and Navy!!'
Even the referee didn't know that the bolt had been a silent partner in the
R. G., '22.
Page 9 text:
THE POTTER SHIELD '
will not do much better when he gets out into the world. And a man who cannot do
one thing at a time and do that well is more of a hindrance than a help to his country.
So let us see if we cannot cut down the amount of time wasted. This is a
patriotic duty, and it is up to each one of us to do our best for our country.
THE SHIELD is strictly a school paper. It is supposed to be written, illustrated,
and supported by the student body of the Potter School, not by the SHIELD
staff. The student body elects an editor, but that is not all it must do. It must
write a paper. It cannot sit idly by and expect the editor and his staff to write
stories, draw headings, look up school notes, and get advertisements. Everyone in
the school must do his share in order to publish a School paper. It is not only impos-
sible for the staff to do all the work alone, but a paper written by a few fellows does
not represent the school. Everybody must help. .
This issue of the SHIELD has not been supported by the School as well as it
might have been, but we hope that the next one will be. You are all able to write,
draw, and get advertisements. It is no disgrace if your work is not accepted.
Perhaps there was someone who did a little better, and yours will find a place
next time. L You are only asked to do your best, more than that no one expects of
you, and the SHIELD appreciates everyone's effort.
We are going to get busy on the next issue as soon as this one is sold, and we
look forward to help from each and everyone of you. You will all be given lots of
time, so start right away, and do all that you can for any department of the paper
you think you can help most. Remember that the SHIELD is a school paper, and
it's up to the School to write it.
To those whose work is not accepted for the SHIELD:
The editors regret
That they cannot make use of
Your worthy' contribution,
Which is- herewith returned
Rejection does not
Necessarily imply lack of
The editors are always glad
We thank you.
The SHIELD wishes to acknowledge the following exchanges:
Sequoya CUnion Highj, Redwood.
The Index CThe Haverford Schoolj, Haverford, Pa.
The Megaphone CCountry Day Schoolj, Newton, Mass.
The Tripod CThe Roxbury Latinb, Boston, Mass.
The N oblefrnan CNoble and Greenoughj, Boston, Mass.
Works and Days CBurkej, San Francisco.
The Manzanita Bark CManzanitaD, Palo Alto.
Page 11 text:
H hea Vvl
I as a
THE POTTER SHIELD
The Red Bank Claim
IT WAS just sunset and Don Madero was very sick and tired. His best friend
was the leathern canteen which hung over his saddle. Eight miles had he come in
from Flume Gulch to see a doctor. Cn a previous visit to Dr. Simms he had been
given a dozen quinine powders to be taken after meals. Instead he had taken them
all at once, with rather a disastrous effect.
"Well," said the doctor, as Madero stood before his desk, 'fwhat's the matter
this trip? Been drinking too much commissary whiskey or been sleeping in the tule
marshes? Come, let's have it out."
Madero had been prospecting with three other Spaniards, and he told the doc-
tor what poor retorts he had received, and how sick he felt all over, including his
feet, which had been scoured with Golash Balius, that irritating disease of the
"Well, young fellow," smiled the doctor, "that means a strong dose of medicine
for you," and with that he administered to the Spaniard some ill-tasting tablets.
Don took them with much gratification, and started for the door. But he hesi-
tated and said bashfully, "I have no mon, Senior Medicof'
"Never mind. It's only a dollar for the medicine."
Madero showed signs of guilt for having swallowed so much cash. Then he
dug into the pocket of his chaps. "I non got de mon, but I got here what may be
good for you. ,Eet is yours." He handed over the precious tin can he had brought
Simms took it and looked at the red, dusty, powdery mass. "Why, this is
"Yes," Madero drawled out, having no idea what such a matter was.
The doctor's face grew earnest as he inquired, "Where did you get this? Was
there an abundant supply of this rock? Could you find the place again?"
Madero answered these questions in succession, stating positively that he could
certainly find the spot again, for his mule Volto was staked there.
The doctor rose and shut his door. "Listen, Don Madero, that bit of medicine
I gave you was worth a dollar because it contained that red dust in the form of
quicksilver or mercury. It is one of the most valuable metals, especially in gold-
mining country. My good fellow, if you really know where to find more of it, your
fortune is made."
"But my partners Jose Raphael, Boldero Esperanzo and San Gubo! They may
stake out claim before I get back!"
"No fear of that, Don," said the doctor understandingly, "they are probably
in town here right now spending their last cent at the Silver Palacef'
'tYes, I think mebbe you right, for they say perhaps they come in tonightf,
"Just where are your diggings?" inquired Simms.
"Ah, me buen hombre, you take north road from town for eight miles along
Bear trail in Flume Gulch. When you come under Desperation Peak, you climb
up on your right on the rocky ledge, and then you soon find my mud hut, huh,"
"Then quick, hurry out and mount your horse. Be back before your friends
come. In the meantime I'll get some friends to back you and help you make your
claim. Remember that the minutes are precious. I'll be along soon." u
Madero hurried out, muttering inexpressible thanks, and mounted his fast
p It was a fact that Madero's companions were in town, yet they were not shaking
dice at any saloon as Dr. Simms surmised. They were consulting w1th.Jim Blast,
foreman of the Last Chance Mining Company, who believed in possibilities, and
who had the reputation of 'fmaking thingsgo through."
A few minutes later Simms reached Charlie Gordon's oflice, dressed for an all-
night ride. Gordon was manager for the Lucky Shaft Mining Company, which
had its main office in Denver, Colorado, and whose stock played an important
part in the financial world. Just at present the stock was low, due to the success
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