Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

Page 23 text:

the papers which he had been studying and made for the entrance of the house. Here my way was blocked by two stalwart Arabs but they let me pass after my telling them in their own language that I had been sent by Jaffa on an errand and unless they wanted the wrath of Allah and their master to fall upon them not to hinder me. ' As quickly as I dared I made for the gates of the city, where I procured a camel, again saying Jaffa had sent me, and tore out into the desert. I thought I had been too lucky so far, so prepared myself for anything, even recapture, but after six hours ' hard riding I reached my destination in the last stages of collapse. 1 ' ' Jane Seely, Form IVb. Roman Cats Foro di Traiano! called the cab-driver proudly. Mother, asked Hester, why are you bringing that bread? Mother, did the old Romans always live underground? asked Christine, as they looked down into the ruins fifteen feet beneath. I see a cat, announced Hester, and everything else was forgotten. Mother took a piece of bread out of her basket and threw it down to the cat. Instantly, a do2;en others came scrambling out. More and more cats appeared from behind the broken columns and from out of all the crevices. I see thirty-five, said Hester, then, counting again, Forty-two. Forty-three, said Christine a little doubtfully, for she was not certain whether she had counted a certain thin lemon-spotted cat twice, but before she could decide Hester had counted up to forty-six. Christine bit her hp with disappointment that Hester had won the contest. Isn ' t it funny how some get all the bread and are fat and others can ' t get any and are thin? she said. Jenny woul d be one of the fat ones, said Hester. So would Bearsey, added Christine. Jenny and Bearsey were their cats at home. Just then two nuns came out of a church nearby. The two girls went on with their discussion Bearsey would be one of the thin ones, said Hester. No, she wouldn ' t, said Christine, getting a little impatient. As the two nuns came nearer, one of them exclaimed: O, i biondi angeli! Thin, like the lemon-spotted cat, whispered Hester in Christine ' s ear. Christine could think of no proper retort except a swing of the arm on Hester ' s head. A second later Hester lay scrawling at the feet of the horrified nuns. She got up, but just as she was planning to get her revenge, her mother stepped between her and Christine and beckoned to the cab-driver. Hester, much against her will, was pushed into the cab. Then the cabdriver came to the rescue and asked Christine to ride up high beside him. Soon he began to tell her some wonderful stories about his own cat, who seemed able to do everything. The stories were so interesting that before long Hester ' s head appeared between Christine and the cab-driver. She had forgotten about the fight, and anyway Jenny and Bearsey were so far behind this Roman cat that there was no use quarellmg about them. Christine fmallv said she had never heard of a cat doing such remarkable things, to which the cab-driver answered : E una buffa cosa, sai, che non e ' e nessuno gatto com ' il gatto Romano. Christine Williams, Form IIIb. [21 ]

Page 22 text:

I was travelling through the Sahara Desert during one of the hottest •• on I ■ mounted on one of those trusty ships of the desert, the camel. I was equipped with bedding, food, water, camel fodder and, tucked well inside my riding boot, a very important document. On government service at the time, I was travelling from one desert fort to the other, a day and a half of hard riding, over many weary miles of burning sand. This particular part of the country was inhabited by fierce Toureg tribes who never spared the hated white Infidel. More dangerous than these Touregs was another band, powerful, well disciplined and well organized. This tribe wa I commanded by Hamir Jaffa, a cunning, clever Arab, educated at one of the best schools in England, and later at a well-known military college. He would have given a great deal to obtain the papers I was carrying but, as every precaution had been taken, I thought myself practically safe. I had travelled about halfway when, with a yell, a band of Arabs bore down upon me. It is very easy for the enemy to creep up upon you without your being any the wiser, amongst the numerous sand dunes. I immediately dismounted, forced my camel into a kneeling position and, crouching down behind the protection thus afforded, brought my rifle to bear upon the swiftly advancing horsemen. You could not possibly miss with such a large target before you and several horses and riders came crashing to the ground. There were so many Arabs, however, that as one fell another took his place. These men were dressed in desert style : long, flowing robes and bournows, flourishing the short, curved swords they were accustomed to carry. Some, however, had modern rifles and a bullet from one of these hit my camel in a vital spot and he rolled over with a shrill shriek. On and on this seething wave of humanity rushed. I expected no quarter from this lawless tribe, for I thought them to be Touregs, but to my surprise, with cries of ' Allah il Allah Abbas, ' ' they bore down upon me and with a rifle butt I was knocked unconscious. I awoke to find myself bound hand and foot in a small, ' ill-ventilated, dark cell. My head was aching violently and at first I could not place my whereabouts, but at last realization dawned on me. I decided that I had been carried here, the chief abode of their leader, by the tribe which had attacked me. I was wondering what could be their reason for sparing me when I remembered my mission. My boots had disappeared, as well as my papers. I must then be in the hands of Hamir Jaffa for no other chieftain would waste good men for a seemingly valueless thing. Suddenly my door was thrown open and two powerful Arabs entered, unbound me, and took me before the most clever, ruthless Arab I ever hope to see. He informed me in faultless English that he should like me to give him a little information concerning the strength and number of men in several forts which he mentioned. I told him coldly with great contempt that he would get nothing from me. He laughed mockingly and with words full of meaning he said, ' We shall see, after I have obtained some amusement from you! 1 I knew what that meant. No swift death but slow, terrible death by torture. I was told that I had till the next day before my ordeal commenced; that meant seven hours of respite in which to think of some plan of escape. I was taken back to my cell and there I sat on the floor (there had once been a bench but it now lay broken) and racked my brains to think of a way of escaping with the documents. It was not until I heard the jailor coming along the corridor that a plan came to me. I must admit it was not original, and I suppose I must have read it in my boyhood days in some books of adventure ' — (Tremaine looked at me and smiled, then he resumed his story) — but I hoped it would serve my purpose. I therefore slipped behind the door of my cupboard (it was little more), picked up a heavy piece of wood from amongst the ruins of the bench and, as the jailor entered. I dealt him a hearty knock over the head and he dropped senseless to the floor. I quickly donned the man ' s cloths, gagged and bound him, slipped into the corridor and closed and locked the door — from the outside! There was no one about, so I crept along the corridor towards the apartments of Jaffa. He was sitting at his desk with his back towards me and mercifully alone. I hated the thought of killing him in cold blood so, using the hilt of the jailor ' s sword, I hit him over the head, snatched up [ 20 I

Page 24 text:

The Heroes Of The Long Sault In the year of sixteen sixty, In the Town of Montreal, That the Iroquois were coming Was thought by one and all. The faces of the people As they walked about the street Were pale with anxious fear At the fate that they might meet. For the Indians had tortures That revolted all mankind, And a way to stop their coming Was what they had to find. The young commander, Dollard, With his band of sixteen strong, Told Maisonneuve he had a plan To stop the Indian throng. ' Twas on an April morning, When the skies were clear and blue, That the voyageurs departed For the rapids of Long Sault. They found an ancient stockade, Which they strengthened one and all, To stop the Indians ' passage To Quebec and Montreal. The attack was not long coming, And they charged upon the band, Thinking that against the Iroquoi . They could not make a stand. They faced the Indians ' cruel attack, Five days they held the fort; They had no drink to quench their thirst, Their food supply ran short. The savage hordes crept closer, They broke the stockade wall; A musket burst among the French And they began to fall. Brave Dollard died and all his men, Some tortured by the foe; But first they saved the colonies — Their story all should know. Betty Brodie, Form IVa. The Romance Of A Pipe WHEN I first was able to collect my scattered wits, and look around me, I discovered that I was enclosed in horrible white crinkly stuff, which irritated me and hurt my eyes. For many da.ys I lay in this glaring prison of white paper, wondering if this was the great busy world. One day I heard a voice say in a loud, rasping tone, Smithers, how many times do I have to tell you to unpack the new lot of pipes? Do you think anyone can see them in this part of the shop? I was then lifted from my prison and placed in a sunny shop window together with pipe ' deaners and evil-smelling tobaccos. I remamed here for a long, long time letting the flies buzz around me in the drowsy summer sun. Some days the sunlight played upon my bowl and I felt handsome and proud; on dull days, I felt sad and restless. I felt that I wanted to spring through the window. About another month passed. I began to notice a young man looking at me with longing. Every day he came, just about noon, and stood outside the window. At last I became proud, and scorned the pipe-cleaners, and other pipes; but one day I was lifted out of the window, wrapped in paper, and carried away. I felt very miserable. That night 1 was freed from the paper, and found myself in the hand of my admirer. You can imagine my delight; why, I almost writhed in my joy. My admirer seemed pleased with me, for he said: Now, I ' m in the law office, I shall smoke my first pipe, and look a man. Someday, far, far from now, perhaps I ' ll be great and make speeches, and lead Canada to greatness. With these words the ardent young man stuffed me with rank tobai i o, lit a match and smoked me. I thought that I should die, for I felt nothing but the intoxi- cating fumes being drawn through me. In the distance I heard a voice say, Yes, perhaps John Macdonald will be great. [ 22 ]