Weymouth High School - Campus / Reflector Yearbook (Weymouth, MA)

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Tke Dude In a small Western town in the Deadwood Hills, a group of dry and dusty cowboys had gathered from the surrounding ranches to quench their thirst and play a few games of poker. It was the first of the month and most of them had their month ' s pay to squander as they saw fit. Here she comes, boys, yelled some one, and the local stage coach and its six horses came to a skidd ing stop. Two strangers jumped out. One, a drummer of the usual type known to Western towns, was given but a single glance. The other, a tall man, evidently of English an- cestry, was the cause of much talk. Dude! says Bill Johnson of Cross V to his pal Dick Jones. Yep, says Dick, look at those spats and the hunk of glass in his eye. I ' ll bet his mother doesn ' t know he ' s out. These and other comments were heard as the two strangers went into the hotel and regis- tered, the Dude giving his name as Algernon Forthergill of London. After asking for a room with a bawth, which caused several loud guf- faws from the cowboys, Algernon and his friend, the drummer, strolled into the barroom. After a few drinks the Dude began to boast. I can ride just as well as any cowboy, and I won ' t bar Buckskin Sam. Now Buckskin Sam was a famous bronco buster and rodeo rider and there was no man in the West who did not envy him. Bill Johnson was dying for some fun, and a little easy money was never turned aside by any of the boys. Say, feller! You think you can ride. I got a little bronco I ' ll bet two to one yer can ' t stay on, and I ' ll ' low yer ter pull leather. The drummer backed the Dude, and soon all the boys had their month ' s pay on Bill Johnson ' s broncho. A wild-eyed pinto who had never felt the cinch of a saddle was brought out in front, and the Dude looked calmly on, in fact some thought too calmly. Algernon strolled to a sidewalk chair, care- fully laid down his cane and monocle, and then rolled up his London tweeds. Whoa, boy! he said as he grasped the reins, and like a flash he vaulted on the startled bron- cho ' s back. The pinto reared and kicked. His fore feet pawed the air, but Algernon stayed on. Soon a crack was heard in the vicinity of the saddle cinch. He ' s done fer now, yelled Bill, but when the dust lifted, he saw the Dude safely astride his bare-back broncho. Well, the Dude and his friend collected, and pulled out on the stage that evening. The cow- boys, still dry and much disgusted, went to Hank ' s liverv stable for their horses. Who were them blokes? some one asked. Old Hank laughed and said, What ' s the matter, boys? Done yer up? That Dude was Buckskin Sam. Ruth Clifford ' 34 School Life Education has been defined as the process by means of which the individual acquires experi- ence that will function and render more efficient his future actions. So often we go to high school or college with one definite aim — that of plug- ging until we have mastered the knowledge we get from books. Often in our zeal we forget the experiences which we might acquire outside of school hours when our time is our own. Are not these experiments equally important to our future? If we are going to leave school at grad- uation to start upon a life of merely applying our knowledge, our future will not look happy. In any profession or occupation we are going to mingle with other people. Our success will de- pend much upon our ability to get along with these people. We have an unusual opportunity at our high school to prepare for this event. Here we may enter into club activities, and participate in sports and in organizations. It is here we learn to accept the opinion of others. If happiness is largely in remembering, what pleasanter experience could we have to remem- ber than our happy and profitable years spent in work and play together at Weymouth High School ? Dorothy M. Branley ' 32 Paqe Ten

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REFLECTOR S Mrs. iS mart Learns to Skate Don ' t you think skating is dreadfully good exercise? I do and I ' ve been trying it lately. I ' ve got so I really can skate better than some of these young folks, even if I do say so myself. Joshua said I was rather old to go into such childish business, but I don ' t see any reason why an old married woman shouldn ' t enjoy herself if she can. I ' d like to see Joshua Smart stop me from skating. He never was big enough to. Even old Grandma Smith, who has hobbled around on crutches for ten years, tried it. Al- though she fell down, smashed her specs, and barked her nose, she claims she has a good time. Well, as soon as it got cold enough to freeze the millpond, I made up my mind to see what I could do at skating. I went to town and bought myself a pair of skates. Then the dressmaker said I ought to have a skating costume. I took the hint, and started to make one. I took a pair of Joshua ' s red flannels and put two rosettes of green ribbon into the bottom of each leg. Then I took a yellow petticoat and sewed five rows of blue trimming around the bottom of that. For a hat I took one of Joshua ' s cast-off stove-pipe hats, and cut it down. I had a wide piece of red flannel around it, and stuck a rooster ' s tail feather in the front of it. Joshua said I looked like an Indian. (I don ' t know how he could tell, because he never saw one.) Early Tuesday morning I set sail for the mill- pond. When I reached the pond, I found it crowded. It was too late to go back; so I sat down and strapped on my skates. I got on the ice, but my left foot began running around the other one. The first thing I knew my heels were up and my head was down. I thought it was night and all the stars were having a shooting- match. After getting up, I started out again. I found out that my chief difficulty was in stopping my- self. I had the wind at my back and it filled my petticoat so that it floated out like a sail. I was coming to the place where the skaters were pretty thick. The first thing I knew I was mow- ing them down right and left. Hats, gloves, coats, men, women, children, false teeth, and wigs were all mixed up together. Jim Pratt ' s toe caught in the braid of my pet- ticoat. I went down, striking the back of my cranium. I thought it had broken my skull, and seemed to hear the rough edges scrape together. Sam Parker untangled me and escorted me home. I was sore for a week and had to eat off the mantel piece. I ' ve been skating regularly now. I ' ve frozen both my feet, barked up my face, and got the rheumatism, but I ' ve learned to skate. So what do I care! M. Poole ' 35 Resourcefulness is Next to Courage Mrs. Barnaby Briggs sat up in bed, having been rudely awakened by a slight noise from down stairs. She listened intently. Yes, there it was again. She leaned over and shook her husband. Barnaby, Barnaby, there is someone prowl- ing around this house, she whispered fearfully. Huh, wha ' you say? yawned Barnaby, blinking his eyes. There is someone in this house. Oh, my precious antiques! I just know they will get my antiques, wailed Mrs. Briggs. Go down, Barnaby, go right down and order them out. Oh, my nerves! What shall we do? Barnaby, a timid soul, preferred to turn a deaf ear to his wife until she, with brute force as usual, routed him. There was nothing to do but face it after Mrs. Briggs ' s wail of Oh, to think I married a coward ! Quivering and shaking, poor Barnaby crept down the stairs, his knees knocking, his teeth chattering. Nearer and nearer he came to the living-room. He peeped in and his heart sank. His worst fears were realized. There was some- one there, and in that someone ' s hand he caught the gleam of metal. Just then the intruder saw Barnaby. Poor Briggs was paralyzed. Then with a heroic ef- fort he said, Don ' t mind me. I ' m just walking in my sleep, and fled to the upper regions. Resourcefulness is next to courage. Ruth Stoddard ' 32 Paqe Nine

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Burglars — And Burglars A lone white beam shot round the dust-cov- ered room. The figure outside paused by the open window and looked in. If anybody was foolish enough to leave a window open all night, James Harrison Lee was not the person to ig- nore it. Nothing stirred inside. Climbing in, Jimmy dropped lightly to the floor, and began a cautious inspection of the sheet-covered furni- ture. J. Mortimer Swank had closed his palatial residence for the summer. Nevertheless, there was bound to be something of value left behind — hence the midnight marauder. Jimmy kept up his prowling. Unobserved by him, another trim figure was hidden from view behind a luxurious drapery at one end of the room. This secreted person followed every move of the burglar, until at last Mr. Lee was ready to leave. He stood by the window a minute, rest- ing the heavily loaded sack on the floor, when suddenly the lights flashed on and a cool voice said, Put up your hands! Dismayed, Jimmy did as he was told. Turn- ing, he stared uncomfortably at his captor, stand- ing awkwardly, first on one foot, then on the other. Phwat ' s going on here? demanded an un- mistakably Irish voice from the window, as the copper on the beat made his entrance. This-er-gentleman paid me an unexpected midnight visit, explained the man with the gun. Will you please take charge, officer? Er-you can leave the bag where it is. Yessir, replied O ' Reilly, respectfully. Will you be down in the morning to prefer charges, sir? The man barely stifled an affected yawn. Er- I hardly think so. This will be quite a feather in your cap, sergeant, capturing this villainous chap as he was escaping with the loot, won ' t it? Oi understand, sor, O ' Reilly winked. But I ' m not a sergeant yet, sor. Really? What a stupid lot of officials we have at headquarters. I ' ll speak to the Com- missioner in the morning. Quite so, sor. Good night, sor. Good night, serg-er-officer. O ' Reilly departed with his prisoner. Alas, I fear it w ill be a long time before Officer O ' Reilly will sit at a sergeant ' s desk. The nimble Jimmy managed to escape from the clutches of this guardian of the law before they reached the station. Vowing vengeance on the smooth-talking individual who had him arrested, he fled straight to the Swank mansion. After loitering about for half an hour, he gathered up his courage and approached his former means of entrance. What ' s this? The window is still open. Jimmy exulted, and then suddenly fell back in astonishment and fear. A black figure appeared in the window and dropped to the ground out- side. Picking up a clumsy sack, this person walked briskly to the end of the lane, where he turned. Back to Jimmy drifted a familiar voice. That was easy! Better luck next time, partner! Jimmy gasped and sat down weakly. Sergeant Connors sent the following telegram to J. Mortimer Swank the next day. Your son apprehended burglar in house. Man escaped. Shall we continue search? J. Mortimer Swank sent the following tele- gram to Sergeant Connors the same day: I have no son. Both men were crooks. Start search immediately. Russell Dexheimer Talk about co-operation ! When Dell was in the jeweller ' s shop to get his watch he asked the jeweller how he got the correct time. Oh, said the jeweller, I set my clock by the sunset gun at the fort. A few days later, Bill was down at the fort looking it over and asked how they checked up on their watches so as to shoot off the sunset gun on time. Why, they said, we check our watches every day by the clock in the jeweller ' s win- dow. Page Eleven