Richmond Hill High School - Archway / Dome Yearbook (Richmond Hill, NY)

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Page Eight T I-I E D O M E back. Seems as though that night's bein' lived over again this night, an' I thought I could tell the story better. There was a pause, and the story-teller smoked thoughtfully for a few seconds. The dozen men that had started out after Jim left all staggered back, one by one, because of the storm, but not one of them mentioned seein' Jim. Probably, I thought, he's whalin' the tar out of his dogs, an' still in a huff. He told me afterwards that that was exactly what he was doin', whalin' the life out of his dogs to put distance between me an' him, so's he wouldn't weaken an' come back an' get me. After he left town, he said, he beat his way out the Jig-saw Trail. The travelin' wasn't so bad, 'cause the snow hadn't drifted into the trail much, but after he'd passed the Clump he was out in the open without any protection against the storm, where he'd had brush an' trees be- fore. He kept goin' fast until he judged he was nearin' Little Creek. He slowed up there, to test the ice before crossin'. It was hard, so he kept on at his old pace, Hgurin' that the ice on Big Creek would be the same. Jim said afterwards that he should have known better an' looked out for air- holes, but he didn't. He was about half way across Big Creek when there was a crunchin', grindin' noise an' frantic yelps from the dogs, who had safely crossed the weak spot-now a black yawnin' hole-but were bein' pulled back into it by the sinkin' sled. Jim dove for the traces an' cut 'em in time to save the dogs, but he himself started to slide into the black, gurglin', rushin' water. 'Pete,' bein' the lead dog, was the first safely out, an' when he saw Jim's danger gave a short sharp yelp. Jim told me that when that dog barked it popped right into his mind to grab the last dog an' hold on. The frantic scramblin' of the dogs to save themselves saved Jim from d1'OXVI1lI1', but then he was still in danger, 'cause he was soaked from the hips down, an' you know what that means this time of year. VVell, Jim was out. The first thing he did was to cut 'Pete' loose from his harness give him a sharp pat on the back, an' 'Pete' was off into the storm like a streak of light- nin', knowin' just what his master expected of him. After gettin' 'Pete' started Jim kept movin', but he couldn't leave the place because 'Pete' would bring help back there. He stayed there jumpin' up an' down, doin' a buck an.' wing an' all the crazy steps he could remember. Still the ice formed on his boots an' trousers, an' Jim knew he was Hghtin' a losin' game. But he kept on until he dropped from sheer exhaustion. I was sittin' here talkin' when there comes a scratchin' an' a tearin' at the door. 'Uncle' John-he was storekeeper then- opened it, an' in bounded 'Pete,' exhausted an' all but dead. The dog was game, though. When I went to him, knowin' full well that somethin' had happened to Jim, he wanted to start right back. A few min- utes later we did start back, 'Pete' on a leash with Uncle John an' me with the store sled. 'Pete' led us right to where Jim lay buried in the snow that had tried to snuff him out but in a measure saved him by keepin' out the worst of the cold. We piled Jim onto our sled, beat our way back to town, an' it took us half the next day to wake him upg but he finally came to, an' in a week was all right. The men sat staring before them, think- ing of 'Pete' and his master. Suddenly came a loud scratching and tearing at the door. Uncle John's son opened it, and in bounded a great snow-covered dog, eyes snapping, paws hardly touching the Hoor for the joy J

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lllll llllllli The Dome Staff Editor-in-Chief, WILLIAM J. RILEY Fiction . ..... HOWARD TIFFANY Poetry ...................,.. ELSIE SPOERL Art ......................... ROGER HEINS Photography ..... EDWARD JAMGOTCHIAN Circulation ......... EDWARD PENTECOST Advertising ........... A LFRED D. PHILLIPS Assistant Circulation.ALFRED D. PHILLIPS Assistant Advertising ..... EDWARD WEISS QU, Circulation ........,..., ROBERT BURKE Business ' ................... SABIUEL SHICK 90, Literary ...,.......... ANNA SIEGMANN Treasurer ...,... ..... C 'HARLES STRONG 51, Circulation . ..,....,... RAY KATZ Girls' Athletics .... DOROTHY BAYLEY 51, Literary ...... .... N ADENE CORNISH Senior Notes ... ...BURGESS MOI-IRHAUS Boys' Athletics .... HOWARD MESLER Exchange ..... .,...r I RTI-IUR DANIELS Log ........... ..... B I. L. FINCH, IR. Secretary ..... ........ R UTI-I BISHOP Alumni ..,..... ...... f XLFRED STRAUB Question Box ,... ...... I YVELYN SEQXIEL Humor ............... ERWIN P. VOLLMER Societies ................ RI-IODA CORFIELD Faculty Adviser ...... DR. L. CORSON Advertising Adviser.MR.R. H. PROCTOR Pete MAN' you think he was a wonderful dog? Guess you never heard of Jim Trotter's dog 'Pete,' an, what he did for Jim the night of that blisterin' blizzard three-no, four years ago. Never have, eh? Well, you,ll hear it sometime, an, it might's well be now, 'cause it was me as went out after Jim when 'Petel came a-tearin' an, a- scratchin'-but thatls all in the storyf, There was a scraping of chairs about the stove as the men stationed themselves closer to the fire, for it was a cold night? the cold- est that the up-country had experienced for years, and it was blowing a gale besides. There was a scratching of matches as pipes were re-lit. Only one man remained un- moved. He merely licked his lips and wait- ed for the others to settle themselves. Then he began. This Jim Trotter and me had been to- gether ever since he came up from the States, a matter of some ten years now. I was a little older than him, but that only made him seem like a kid brother to me. VVe'd always be together: eat together, sleep together, and many times fight to- gether, not always against others, either- but that's a part of bein' pals. VVeld just had one of our scraps, about whether to take stakin' pegs with us or not on our trip up to Jackson in the gold rush. A rather petty thing, you say. Yes, and we paid prettily for it. VVe both got hot under the collar, what with arguin' back an, forth an, such, so finally he said as how he'd go it alone. I told him to go ahead an' be - to him. 'KI-Ie packed up his sled and left with his team, 'Pete' in the lead. lt was a night like this, bitter cold, the wind a-blowin' ht to kill, an' snowin' likeiblue blazes. When Jim left it was snowinl hard, but not a penny's worth to what it was doin' a couple of hours later. I was sittin' right where l'm sittin' now. That's why l didn't move a while

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THE DORIE Page Nine at seeing the story-teller, into whose arms he Hnally jumped. Yes, it was fPete,' come for his master,s friend, but this time Jim --o was with him, as was proved when his mas- ter stepped smiling into the room. E H. Smalley, ,23. A Tale of Two Towns fOr, What You Willj NEERBEER NICK, most famous of detect- ives, stood on the corner of the Bowery and 33d Street disguised as a lamp-post. Ever alert and watchful, he soon perceived a pretty young woman languidly strolling towards him. As she passed our sleuth she dropped a small piece of paper, which action did not escape Neerbeeris eagle glance. Ut- tering a cry like that of a lamp-post to avoid suspicion, he stepped from his disguise and stealthily picked up the paper. A faint cheesy odor permeated the atmosphere. A startled exclamation burst from the lips of the detective, for on the paper was written: Ullfffayonnaise, numero 57, Rue de From- mage, Paris I The plot sickens. A dignified gentleman ambulated with decision towards a stately maison particu- Iiifre on the Rue de Frommage, Paris. As he approached, a querulous female voice cried out, f'Qui Stes-vous? Stung and frightened by these cruel words, our hero Cfor such he wasj drew back, confused. What, thought he- Wl1at would lVIonsoor Finnegan say in my place? Ah, yes! Vouloir zioulruzt fvouler -je zfeux that's it-je veux- Oh, hang it, he cried in English, l want to see lVIayonnaisef' lVlayonnaise,H said the voice as the door slammed shut, is dressingli' g'True,,' said the intrepid detective in a Gastonian manner, Hlldayonnaise is dress- ing. I never thought of that before. It was midnight Qas it often isj in the Quartier Latin. Bursts of frenzied music from a little cafe of questionable reputation smote the ear. A gang of boisterous Apaches were for should it be wax, Miss Beard?l dancing and singing. Suddenly a shot rang outg twenty redskins bit the dust. No, no! I have my scenes mixed. All this was in the heart of Paris-don't ask me which ventri- cle. It wasn't a shot: someone just pulled the cork out of a bottle of absinthe. Nlayonnaise was dancing with a ferocious looking Apache CNeerbeer Nick in dis- guisej. mn - - o p lx i . 3 .1 -- ' ,... Q1 Q . '1 p 0 f X I .1 A i EMIIWIH!!W 'Iimi.:, Q i '..,QTilflfQl2lVg!mI'f?YYi -Hi