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Page 35 text:
THE CHIPMUNK for 1922
game was over. They wouldn't let him play at first; he wouldn’t play at all.
He was still brooding over his woes, when the yell practice broke up.
He started home, with a book under his arm. both hands crammed
deep into his pockets, and his cap pulled down over his eyes. When he had
gone about half way. his chum. Slats, caught up with him.
"Got any money up on the game. Mick?" asked Slats in a joking tone.
Slats looked at Mickey in surprise. Mickey never spoke shortly, he
always gushed on for an hour when spoken to. After several more attempts
at conversation to which he had received no response, he walked on and left
Mickey to his reflections.
It was the night of the game. Mickey debated for a long time whether
to go or stay home. But he finally concluded, that as long as the game was
to decide which school should have the cup. he would put his disappointment
aside and go.
He walked in behind a crowd of jovial boys and took a seat toward
the back of the room.
During the first few minutes of the game, excitement ran high—yell
for yell was exchanged—banners from both sides waved furiously—but
Mickey watched none of this. He kept his mind on the players. Why did
they make such wild shots? Oh. why did they drop the ball so often? What
was the matter with Slats? He could do absolutely nothing. Such thoughts
chased through his mind one after another until he was so excited he could
hardly keep from rushing out on the floor. By the time the first half was
more than half over he could see Slats was "all in." They removed him.
Oh. if only Jack would play better than Slats had done. By this time he
had entirely forgotten his vow. that he would not play if they asked him.
His one desire was to get out on the floor. He would show them that he
could play even if he was small. He would. Oh. what had happened to
Jack? He had hurt his foot. What would they do now? The next he
knew he was out on the floor. He tried to stop but some wild impulse pushed
him on. As the captain turned and saw Mickey, the look of anxiety on his
face turned to a look of partial relief.
"Oh! Mickey! You’re the boy I want. Get into a suit quick and
come back here. We’re beaten now but can’t quit.”
Mickey moved in a trance. He could not tell how he changed and
got back to the hall. Before he realized what had happened, he was standing
on the floor and the whistle had blown. He saw the ball dimly as if he
were in a trance and stretched out his hands. But the moment the ball was
in his hands, he awoke to the realization of what he was doing and played
as he had never played before. He forgot his smallness and spent his time
in dodging the larger players. What were they shouting for? Had he really
thrown a goal? Before he had time to ponder on this question, he was
playing again. The rest of the team took heart when they saw how Mickey
put his soul into his playing. The score was gradually climbing up to the
opponent’s score. But Mickey paid no attention to the score, he only knew
that he must make good.
He heard the whistle and a confused uproar and one question was
foremost in his mind. Had they won? In a moment, he felt himself being
lifted to the shoulders of some of the tallest boys, and cries of "Mickey! —
Mickey!—Rah—Rah—Mickey!” rang in his ears as they carried him
from the floor .
It was at the supper given to the opposing team after the game. Mickey
was still so dazed he could not eat. He was sitting at the end of the table,
but he did not pay much attention to what his captain was saying, until he
heard his own name mentioned. He sat up with a jerk in time to hear him
say. "And as Mickey won the cup for us. let’s all give him three cheers."
The heartiness of those cheers was still ringing in his ears, when he slipped
into dreamland that night.
R. L. ’24.
Page 34 text:
THE CHIPMUNK for 1922
multitude of little peoples. Here and there a small animal scampered to
his late hed.
One by one the stars came out and winked mernly down upon the still
earth. The moon rose and hung in the dark sky—a crescent-shaped lantern,
illuminating the earth with a soft, silvery light. In the moonlight, the distant
peaks stood out in black relief standing like huge sentinels, guarding the sleeping.
R. G.. 23.
THE RED SUNBONNET
What could be more humiliating to a girl of thirteen years, than to he
forced to wear a red sunbonnet to church on Sunday, while all the other girls
of the village came trooping forth in lovely creations of lace and ribbon? Such
was my case, and I sat meek and small in the large family pew next to my
Aunt Elizabeth. My aunt termed the modem hats indecent and indurable,
and I firmly believe that it was against the latter point that she held her greatest
grudge. Several small boys sat back of me, who were continually pulling
my bonnet strings and calling me a red geranium, much to my mortification.
Church being over, we all assembled in our respective classes for Sunday
School. Our teacher was a young woman with a sweet smile and a pleasing
manner, and as I sat down she flashed me one of her rare smiles, that instantly
made me forget the former unplcasantries of the day. She came over to me
and began to talk, when she glanced at my sunbonnet. I half expected to see
a sardonic smile, instead she said, "I like your bonnet—it is becoming and
looks sensible. It is rarely that we see such sweet old-fashioned girls.”
Since that day no ridicule has ever affected me.
R. G.. ’23.
THE VALLEY OP THE ATOKI
The Valley of the Atoki. softly veiled with the rosy haze of morning,
at noon baring its vast extent to the summer’s trial of the fiery sun—at night
reached by the balm of the hill winds, dreams under the starlight or high noon.
In the dewy twilight the daughters of Cibola grind their corn and sing
the grinding song of the sunrise hour, and the praying men with their medicine
bowls utter sacred words to the great god of Poscyemo. Madly the young
men rush about playing their strange game of endurance. Suddenly the praying
men cease their murmunngs. and call to the people in a loud and awe inspiring
voice. The tumult and confusion die away, and the inhabitants hurry to
their homes. The night descends, and all is quiet.
R. G.. ’23.
Power given to you of old
To make your marvelous things of gold.
Spears to clash a shield a-sunder.
Swords to put a brave man under.
Graven images on them made.
Of Perseus with his trusty blade.
Of Neptune with his wondrous steeds.
Of Syrinx changed to tuft of reeds.
Of Juno with her peacocks vain.
Of Zeus omnipotent god of rain.
Your power is great, but one is greater
Power of Eros; hearts’ golden mater.
M. F.. 25.
It was yell practice, just a week before the game. Mickey slid into his
seat with a scowl on his face. He wasn’t going to yell. How could he help
his smallness? He didn't want to be short. He could play as well as Slats,
even if he was short. Well, they'd see. maybe they’d want him before the
Page 36 text:
THE CHIPMUNK for 1922
CAPTURING A KANCAROO
In the jungles of Autialia. me and my old pal Lou.
Were hiic ! out tj an Englishman to capture a Kangaroo.
Lou. he was a c w oy. I was just the same.
For we worked back in Texas, where riding was the game.
On Arabian steeds we did great deeds, as anyone else could do.
For we’re the boys, full of joys, me and my old pal I ou.
Lou he met a tiger. I met a huge green snake.
Lou said to me in a whisper. “I believe we’ve made a mistake.”
Of course. I had to admit I had lost my grit.
And I whispered back to Lou. “Don’t you think we’d better quit?”
Were we cowards? Yes. cowards, cowards through and through!
Over in Australia, me and my old pal Lou.
At night I sat by the camp-fire with my face down in my hands.
Thinking of the freedom that was in those I exan sands.
Lou broke the monotonous evening with his usual joke or two.
How we were baffled by an Englishman, just to capture a Kangaroo.
Early in the morning, I saw a Kangaroo,
Like a flash of lightning. I woke my old pal Lou.
With our saddles in our hands, and our rifles at our side.
We wasted not a second, in starting for the ride.
Then a leap in the saddle and a touch with the spur
Off with a flash after Kangaroo fur.
Swinging our lariats with a throw that was good and true
We captured a Kangaroo, me and my old pal Lou.
E. G. N.. 73.
UP BEFORE THE EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE
The stupid squad (about twenty boys and girls) is in the assembly.
They are waiting to be called up before the Executive Committee. I unk.
tunk. tunk—what is that? Oh! it is only a Freshman. What a relief, for
eveiy' ody thought it was Mr. Sewell (the Executive Committee barker).
Funk, tunk. tunk. again and this t me mouths fly open and eyes pop out.
for Mr. Sewell looms up on the horizen. Which one will he take first?
What will I say when they ask me why I didn't get my lessons? These arc
only a few of the thoughts that pass through the minds of the stupid squad.
Mr. Sewell picks his vict m and with head down and looking very
frightened, the latter marches off after Mr. Sewell. His fellow stupids bid
him farewell, many telling him they are praying for him.
He enters t'-.e room where the Executive Committee meeting is being
held. Mr. F. L. Walker. Jr., very cordially invites him to have a seat. Mr.
Walker then informs Mr. Stupid that he is behind in some of h s studies. He
then arks Mr. Stupid why this is and is furnished with some good reasons by
Mr. Stupid. Mr. Walker then doles out some very good advice and a
sentence of two hours after school every night for a morth or longer. I hen
after the other members of the committee have made a few suggert ons, Mr.
Stupid is excused.
Mr. Stupid then returns to the assembly room, feehng down hearted bi t
very much relieved. He answers all the questions of his fellow stupids, and
waits to see them taken up and to hear their sentences.
Let this be a warning.
You studes to come.
Should you be tempted to shirk.
Remember, if your conscience won’t guide you.
The Ex. Committee can sure do the work.
F. N.. 74.
EDITH ATTENDS THE FOOTBALL CAME
“Oh. kid. was it good? Well. I’ve no throat left, and my hands are
swollen twice their size from clapping.
"You’ve missed the grandest game that ever was. Gee. I wouldn t
have stayed away for all the swell dresses on Broadway, and you know how
much I want the pink one we saw in the Red River Lumber Co. s store
window the other day. Say. wasn't that too darling for anything? I could
get a big hat with pink feathers and—Oh. I know you want to hear all about
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