Rockland High School - Cauldron Yearbook (Rockland, ME)

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THE CAULDRON 9 making all that noise? He walked a few feet, then he stood very still and listened. He still heard the noise! Maybe it was only his imagination though. Gr was it? Oh, that's just the wind rattling the trees,'l he assured himself and kept on his way. No sir, he wasn't going to let a little noise scare him. A little ahead of him he saw a small branch of an old tree that had fallen to the ground. He stepped on it and it snapped with a loud echo. He had gone about five or ten yards when he heard another loud snap. Someone is following me! He started running. Then he stopped and listened a moment. Yes, he was sure of it. Someone was still following him. Suppose it is a robber or something, he thought. What will I do ? Well. right now he wasn't going to answer that question. He was going to keep running until he reached the farmhouse. He was running fast. All at once his foot hit another fallen branch. He stumbled, and down he fell. He lay there on the ground for a moment, rubbing his skinned elbow. just as he was about to pick himself up he felt something lick his face. He screamed and sprang to his feet. Then he looked down. There was Spot standing before him. wagging his tail and whining. Spot! That was all he could say. He knelt down and put his arms around the dog. Spot! How you scared me! Then he laughed. 'fYes sir, Spot, you sure had me fooled. Here I thought I was going to be murdered or something. I guess it doesn't pay to jump to conclusions. If I'm going to be a detective I'll have to remember that. Now I'll go to the boys and I'm ready for whatever they've got. But, oh Spot, am I glad that you can't talk. If they ever knew that my own dog frightened me, they'd newer let me join their club. MARJORIE2 WIGGIN NOW ALONE The storm raged outside the little brown cottage by the shore. Sleet struck wildly against the brightly curtained windows and the sky was dark gray above the Hr trees that grew thickly near by. But in spite of the raging wind and rain. all was bright and cheery inside the little brown cottage. A crackling fire roared in the gray stone fireplace, throwing a cheery glow into the farthest corners. Two soft comfortable chairs waited by the fireside, and a small table, set with piping-hot toast and coffee, squatted be- tween the chairs. Although the tiny room was cosy and attractive, although the aroma of the coffee and toast was inviting, onels attention would eventually wander to the man- telpiece above the fireplace. There, in the exact center of the polished shelf was a picture of a serviceman. On his dark hair clung the cocky round cap of the United States Navy, and his spotless uniform fitted his short stocky body perfectly. He was grinning from ear to ear and his smile spread over his whole face. His eyes seemed to say, UI have seen much sadness, but it has made no impres-

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Q . . Liitvrttrg . . WRKEEIHWFWWEFWFWFEWWFWFWFWRW ?iP9?El7'lF9?i?93KF9?il kiddie Hiflfiifiiflffifftkiifffgxfjiifisdkiifikf Skis iiilrfliilriiiikciii SPOT'S SECRET' As darkness swiftly settled over the little town of Riverdale, a small figure could be seen trudging along the outskirts of the village. It was a small boy about twelve years old, slight of stature, with sandy-colored hair and blue eyes, Looking at his face, one would think him to be older than twelve, for there was a serious light in his blue eyes which showed plainly when he was not smiling, or deep in thought. On this October evening he seemed very thoughtful as he walked along. I wish I had Spot with me, he murmured to himself. I'm not scared, but . . . well, anyway l'm not very scared, and if Spot was with me I wouldn't be at all. You see. Spot was his dog. Spot usually followed him wherever he went, but not tonight. That had been one of the rules. He must go alone. Yes, if he was going to be a member of the Detective Club he must be brave and fearless. They had given him the instructions. He was to leave his house and walk to the deserted farmhouse two miles from Riverdale. The boys in the club would meet him there and continue the initiation. This may not sound as if it would take much courage, but to get to this farmhouse he had to take an unused road through an old cemetery and through a quarter of a mile of woods. Since moving to Riverdale he had gone past the cemetery a few times, but never at night. Oh, for gosh sakes, he said to himself, 'Tm not afraid. Nothing could hurt me out here. Anyone would think I expected to meet a ghost or something. Then gaining new courage he quickened his pace and exclaimed aloud with great zest, I'll show 'em that I'm not afraid! I'll saunter into the club house and say hello to them just as if I were in a habit of coming through here every night. Then I guess joe Martin won't say that all fellows from the city are even afraid of their own shadows. As he reached the cemetery he stopped a moment, drew a deep breath and pro- ceeded on his way, whistling a cheerful tune. Yet in spite of his outward calmness his heart was beating much faster than usual. Gosh, but it's dark tonight. he stammered, and those grave stones sure look spooky. As he passed the last stone he breathed a deep sigh. Soon the road wound its way through the small woods. The trees were tall and the way seemed dark and lonesome. Some old dry leaves had fallen in the road, and as the small boy scuffed along, the leaves crackling under his feet made a very loud noise. But, was he

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10 THE CAULDRON sion on me. I never worry, I never hurry, but whatever task I start, I always finish. So I grin with my whole being because I love life and I intend to get the most out of it. And though his infectious smile dominated the entire room, there was no one there to grin back at him. N o one sat in the comfortable chairs. No one poured the fragrant coffee into the sturdy white cups. The room was deserted and yet it seemed as if the sailor's personality filled the room. The only noise to be heard was the snapcrack of the fire, and the fitful wind and rain at the windows . . . the storm that was sweeping the Pacific coast that night. But someone was outside! Someone dressed in black who was weeping wildly. Someone who walked up and down the beach with her face turned always to the ocean. It was a woman and her cries of grief vied with the shriek of the storm. The rain had soaked her through and through, but her tears came even faster than the rain drops. As she trudged back and forth, the wind blew harder and harder, it's voice a wail that blended with the anguish of the woman. The rain slashed down in sheets and the waves cast themselves upon the beach with unbelievable fury. In the woman's hand was a telegram, crushed into a wet yellow wad. As the storm reached its peak, the woman stopped her frenzied walking. She stood gazing through the storm far out to sea and her head was high. The wind whipped her coat about her, and as if she were saying a prayer, she whispered softly . . . I'll be all right, Johnny. Don't worry about me. Then she turned on her heel and walked steadily to the warm brightness inside the little brown cottage. MARGERY MILLS i1l.l. ON THE ART OF STUDYING There are, as every good student knows, very definite factors in the art of study- ing. There are several main points which must be considered, while the smaller supplementary ones are left to the tastes and habits of the individual. First, there must be inspiration, the zeal and determination to conquer one's studies, not let them conquer you. If suitable inspiration is lacking, fwhich is very probable, as it is the rule rather than the exceptionj then the necessity or the dread of facing the teacher with the lesson undone will suffice. The second important factor is position. Now, if one is really determined to con-- quer his studies, this can never be accomplished when one is seated in a straight chair before a desk. It is absolutely necessary that one be located in a comfortable chair, preferably one over which the ambitious student may drape his legs. There are a few questions which should be studied in regard to position: Am I facing the clock ? Is there any danger of my not falling asleep ?', Am I near enough to the phone to reach it without getting up ? If these questions have been suitably taken care of. one is ready to continue..