Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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And then when hope had almost fled The imprisoned would survive, They finally broke through to find That two were still alive. A land that breeds such men as these, Needs nought of bloody feud To find its heroes, who deserve The nation ' s gratitude. Jane Harrison, Form IVa. A STUDY IN CANNIBALISM Josephine, Ohio, 10 p.m. A dark rainy night — a green light at the crossroads and a heavy car approaching. Grireen changes to red — the brakes slam down — Buster, the car, with a graceful swerve, slides across the road, turning, turning, until a sturdy telephone pole present itself, none too gently. Follows a little conversation. Trying to beat the light! says mother from the back seat. Nothing of the kind, retorts father. This car needs four-wheeled brakes, that ' s all. Two-wheeled brakes aren ' t enough for such a heavy car. Pity he isn ' t a year later, says big sister. They came on all the cars then. That gives me an idea, says father. I wonder — Chicago, Illinois, 5 a.m. Ten days later. Do look at that dilapidated old Lincoln in front of the hotel, says little sister. He looks like Buster ' s twin brother. No, a year younger, says father. And so it has four-wheeled brakes. But it won ' t have them long, for we are going to drive it to Cincinnati and have them put on Buster next week. Behind the newcomer stands Buster. The two cars are really the same size, but Buster in shiny black seems larger than his companion, in shabby grey. Buster seems to tower above him and to gloat over his intended victim. It looks decrepit, says mother. Will it run? What can you expect for $90? answers father, evading the question. It is soon answered, however. The starter wails dismally a few minutes, then silence. Finally a condescending push from Buster sets the engine beating like a steel mill and the dis- sipated looking thing moves off. [25]

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to lose hope when suddenly in front of us the huslies parted and tlie dim outline ot a large dog was seen. With a low growl he made for my throat. Fortunately we had the net ready and managed to capture him without injury to ourselves hut we could not go near him. With blazing eyes and snapping jaws he kept us at our distance. Suddenly, Slater said, in astonishment that it looked like Richards ' dog but that the animal formerly had always been gentle. I was not very surprised to hear this for it had been part of my plan. But before I could say so, I spied a small clearing ahead and telling the others to follow, I went forward. There in the clearing were the bodies of two men, one of whom Slater identified as Richards and the other, as we could see by his uniform was the escaped convict. Richards had been evidently strangled by the convict but the latter ' s throat was mangled like those of the policemen. Gradually we pieced the story together. The convict had probably killed Richards to get his clothes and the dog, seeing what had happened too late to prevent it had slain him in revenge. Mad with grief for his master, he had mourned him with that awful howl, so like that of his ancestor the wolf. Wolf-like too in his savage despair, he had killed the four policemen, probably thinking that since his master had been killed by a man all mankind was his enemy. When I heard of Richards ' disappearance with his dog, I thought that perhaps harm had come to the man and that the dog was trying to protect him. I did not guess that the convict had murdered him, nor did I guess how savage the dog had become. Even- tually we had to shoot him, for each night he awakened the countryside with his mourn- ful howl, which, although people now knew what it was never failed to move them by its unearthly sadness. Peggy Tyndale, Form Upper V2. THE DRAEGERMAN HEROES OF MOOSE RIVER MINE Three men are trapped by shifting rock In the old Moose River mine. One hundred and forty feet below The dreary surface line. The cry for help has filtered through For all who ' ll volunteer To clear the shaft, while hope remains. Stout hearts that know no fear. From Nova Scotia ' s deep coal mines That tunnel ' neath the sea. Game eight heroic Draegermen In answer to the plea. For len long days and endless nights They grimly fouglit their way ' (iainsl rock, ' gainsl lime, ' gainst death; its hand So ihn aUuiing to slay. [24]

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As soon as you get out of town, says fatlier to big HiHter, Drive as fast as you can, or we shall not reach Cincinnati before dark and this car has no lights. And we must not separate, for the engine may explode and leave me bigb and dry, miles from anywhere. Somewhere in Indiana, 2 p.m. A gas station — big bright pumps — red benches — a soft drinks stand — two or three loafers lolling in the shade. Good grief, says one. What ' s this coming in? A dusty grey car shudders up to the pumps, a cloud of steam rising from the top of the radiator where the cap should be. The service man steps forward. Is your engine hot, mister? he calls through the clouds of smoke. The driver disdains to answer, but he shouts a warning to the youth approaching with a watering-can. Easy there, don ' t fill her up till she cools off. You ' ll crack the engine. Anything wrong with the old bus? Ill say. It ' s like a sieve. You go ten miles and then it begins to pant as if it hadn ' t had a drink for a year. I call it Puffer. A big black car with a Quebec license rolls up to the station. Its passengers greet those with the Illinois license. How about keeping it down to forty? calls big sister. Buster ' s no racehorse. If I do, father objects, This thing begins to pant and puff and then stops. And you know what that means. You folks together? inquires one of the loafers. For the seventh or eighth time that day explanations are given, and a quiet Hoosier service station is given something to talk about in the afternoon heat. Cincinnati, Ohio, 10 a.m. A week later. Before the house stands Buster, sleek and strong. If he could lift his wheels, he would be proud to show that he has a brake attached to each one. But in order to attain this result. Puffer has been torn to pieces and demolished. Piled neatly in the cellar lie his remains, engine, fenders, and all sorts of parts. A great thing having all those parts right in the cellar, says father. When Buster needs anything replaced, we have it. And when all Puffer ' s parts are in Buster, shall we be driving Buster or Puffer, asks lillle sister. That is what the Athenians used to worry about, says father. And how! adds big sister. Let ' s go for a drive with the new brakes. Hester Williams, Form Matric I. [26J