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Page 8 text:
4 THE TARGET He was guiltless, but to prove it to tbe authorities was another matter. He was immediately taken to Washing- ton. On the way however, the train was wrecked. Among the foremost in clearing the wreckage was Pat, whose sinewy arms worked wonders. There he was in a thickly wooded country, a condemned man with every chance to escape, but he would not take advan- tage of it. The day of the trial came, and our friend was led into the dock. The charge was read, specifying that Mr. Brown, late Saturday night, had seen Conly set fire to some dry grass. He had run to a nearby reservoir and sent a telegram to the nearest town that the forest was on fire. The operator was then called and asked if the message had been re- ceived. He replied in the affirmative. Things looked dark for Pat, but “it is always darkest before dawn,” and the maxim proved true. The operator con- tinued, — “Saturday night I received a call from the mountains that the for est was on fire. This call was sent by Mr. Dorwin a member of Conly’s staff. Mr. Brown’s statement is false.” Silence fell on the courtroom, and Brown moved nervously. Then a laugh rang out from the government’s lawyer. “Gentlemen,” he said, “you have all heard what has just been said; may I ask the speaker how, as telegraph lines are not transparent, nor can one speak through them, he can prove that the call was sent by Dorwin.” “Gentlemen of the jury,” replied the operator, “I have here a telegraph out- fit, which, with your consent, I will set up, and I will turn my back to the court. Then let any number of men use the instrument, and before Dor- win sends five words I shall know his touch on the key.” Now came the climax. Three men sent messages but the witness remain- ed silent. Dorwin came next and with a trembling hand pressed the key; one word, two words — “Dorwin! Dorwin!” came the cry. Again and again the judge rapped for order, and finally the room was quieted. “And now gentlemen, I will add a little to the interest of these proceed- ings.” He walked over to Brown and said, “Disclose thy treachery!” Brown never moved. Grabbing him by the collar, the operator wrenched off a lifelike mask, unbuttoned his vest out of which fell a bunch of rags. There, his identity revealed, stood “Prowling Jim” — trapped. It was a happy afternoon for Pat as he rode home on the great “Northern Pacific Railroad.” Happy also was McHaffy the operator who, seated be- side his friend, was musing over his future prospects. He had been made chief operator in his county, a great factor in his life, but greater still in his mind was the fact that he had saved his friend; for as Pat said’ — “He is well paid that is well satis- fied, And I, delivering you, am satisfied. And therein do account myself well paid.” ANTHONY FOLGER. THE EAGLE. Where cliffs loom up, so tall and steep, Where ne’er but wild things dare tc leap, Where untracked roves the mountain sheep, — The eagle’s cairn is there. No wilder place in all the zones Is found, a nest of sticks and stones,
Page 7 text:
McKinley Introductory High School, Berkeley VOL. XVII. MAY, 1912. No. 3. COLOR IN TONE. There is in color yet to some un- known — That mystery, Sincerity, Intensity of tone, As from a violin or organ blown. The notes rang out — clear, ringing, deep and true, And as I heard, Within me stirred, A feeling that was new — l thought of that unfathomable blue. The sea, one mighty calm before me lay, I looked — compelled — In rapture held, As the receding day — Part of that sapphirine blue — was tolled away. I toiled the hill — and as I climbed my view Of heavenly blue, Still broader grew. Ah ! then I knew — The sky preserved immortally that blue! AUDREY DAVIES. THE ENEMY TRAPPED. Patrick Conly had been in the ser- vice of the forestry department of the government for over forty years. “Pat,” as he was called by his asso- ciates, was known for his honesty and faithfulness. He had a few days ago received a commission as Chief For- ester in the State of Washington. Pat had just come into camp, which he found all in commotion. “Prowling lim,” had been seen hanging around the outskirts of the camp, and, when accosted had immediately disappeared. The campers were suspicious, for it was well known that “Prowling Jim” was Pat’s worst enemy. There was no sleep for Pat that night. As he lay tossing in his ham- mock, he tried to come to a conclusion. The next morning he started early on his route with two companions. The three explored the surrounding coun- try for their man, keeping their eyes open for the smoke that would mean millions of dollars loss to the govern- ment. Worn out, they dragged themselves back to camp, too tired to see a dark form bending over some dry grass with a lighted match, as they neared a secluded pass that obstructed the view of the tents . Pat and his men slept soundly that fatal night. The dogs had to bring the blood to their arms before they were roused. Awakening with a start the leader saw, to his amazement great clouds of smoke not half a mile dis- tant. Calling his men, they had just time to put on their fighting outfit and escape with their lives. Upon reaching the first reservoir on the fire line they turned a force of water on the trees, but water at that stage was useless. One of the men sent a telegram to the nearest town. One after another the tanks were abandoned as the mighty enemy of man came on. After two days had elapsed the tire was under control. Pat ' s division had been in front from the start, and they were the ones who really conquered it. Relief was at hand, but with a warrant for the arrest of Patrick Conly charged with setting the forest on fire. Conly turned white and had to lean against a tree as he read the warrant.
Page 9 text:
THE T With all about white storm-bleached bones; This is the eagle ' s lain. A little black speck in the sky, A lightning swoop, and then nearby Alights the monarch of the sky, On frightened bird or hare. O eagle, pirate of the wild, Boon nature’s most untamed child, Leader of birds and nations styled, Thy fall may come! Take care! KATHERINE STONE. HOW “STRAWBERRY” WAS CHRISTENED. (A True Story). It was at Strawberry, a little sum- mer resort composed entirely of one dilapidated, but cozy-loking house, which lounged on the bank of a swirl- ing river. Supper was over, and the guests were grouped about the garrulous land-lord, Mr. Barry, on the wide veranda. “By the way,” murmured a tail young man, “how’d this place get its name? I haven’t seen one strawberry growing here to justify the title.” “Waal now, I’ll tell ye. Somewhere around ten years ago, a party o’ men come tram in’ up the road near sun- down, all a-wantin’ ter stay here over night. My place war already full ter spiilin’ over. I wanted ter accommodate them fellers, but whar could I put ’em?” “Directly I thought o’ a place, but 1 didn ' t know how they’d take it. I ask- ed ’em kinder timid if they’d sleep in the barn. That thar,” and he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “ is the same identical one.” “They seemed right willin’ an’ come in ter clean up fer supper. I knowed all along I’d have ter put ’em on hay A R G E T 5 on the floor, so when they’d got up from the table I approaches ’em per- lite an says, ‘Gents, you ' ll have ter sleep on straw ’cause it’s the best I kin do fer ye, an’ I hopes ye sleeps comfortable’.” “They mixed in with t’ other folks fer a while, but directly they started out ter bed. I had saw to it that thar was a good pile o’ hay in the barn, so I took ’em out.” “ ’Gents’, I says, ‘jest pull a pile o’ hay out ter one corner an’ sleep on thet. A good rest fer ye,’ I says as I shet the door.” “An’ then after a bit I went ter bed meself. I was jest failin’ inter peace- ful slumbers when I hears a faint yell from th’ direction o’ the barn. I sprung up in my niglit-clo’es an’ run out thar. All the way I heard ’em yell. ‘More straw, Barry! more straw, Bar- ry!’ I supplied ’em good, an’ went trapesin’ back ter bed, kinder mad in- ter the bargain. Waal now, I lied jest got ter sleep when I hears more faint yells. I was plum mad this time an’ I laid still. But them yells grew louder an’ makes fer thet barn like a house a-fire, a cursin’ ’em at every jump. ‘Gents!’ I cries, ‘what do ye want now?’ ” “‘More straw, Barry! more straw, Barry!’ they growls, poundin’ th’ hard floor.” “An’ b’gosh I was kep’ jumping’ all night by them fellers. It got ter be a standin’ joke, an’ people begin ter call, ‘thet. thar place up th’ river,’ ‘Straw- berry,’ an’ it’s kep’ thet name ever since.” HILMA DAVIS. Lessons in laughing given free by Donna Ellen. Wanted — A patent medicine war- ranted to add fat. Apply to Jack Ir- ving.
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