Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

 - Class of 1918

Page 10 of 48


Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA) online yearbook collection, 1918 Edition, Page 10 of 48
Page 10 of 48

Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA) online yearbook collection, 1918 Edition, Page 9
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Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA) online yearbook collection, 1918 Edition, Page 11
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Page 10 text:

8 THE TARGET Only a Song Stealthily the leader of the " Idle Hour Gang " crept on. At last he reached the hedge, and from here on he knew his way perfectly. He " was a very tall man — which is sometimes very inconvenient for a burglar — and rather handsome, but no matter how clever was his disguise the hard lines on his face always indicated his terrible life. To the " Gang " he was known as " D. D. " — otherwise Dare Devil. Really he was Arthur Treble, but no one save the police and him- self knew this. He allowed one little gleam to escape from his flashlight so that he might make sure he was taking the right path. It proved to him what he had already supposed, that he was at the foot of the Maynard ' s back stairs. Slowly he ascended them, noiseless as a cat, until at last he reached the top. Suddenly from somewhere out of the silent house music was wafted down to him, beautiful music, and also a wonderful voice singing mel- odiously with it. Now it trembled, then burst forth in all its glory once more. Arthur Treble stood petrified, straining his ears, marveling, won- dering. Some unknown feeling had entered his heart. Fascinated and bewildered he stole nearer and nearer to the room from whence the music came. When he reached the door he stood silent, his heart throbbing within him. Silently he listened to what seem- ed to him sacred music. " Good-bye, my dear old mother, don ' t you cry, Just kiss your grown-up baby boy Good-bye, Somewhere in France I ' ll be dream- ing of you You and your dear eyes of blue; Come, let me see you smile before we part, I ' ll throw a kiss to cheer your dear old heart, Dry the tear in your eye, don ' t you cry, don ' t you sigh, Good-bye, mother, kiss your boy good-bye. " Through the mist in his eyes the burglar saw a vision of her, that wonderful mother who had guided him right and taught him to play fairly. If she had lived perhaps he would have been square but ever since that little green mound had grown straggly, he had gone wrong. Oh, what would she think of her boy — a burglar! Hysterically he clutched his throat, then ran wildly from the house, never minding the frightful racket he created. " Wuxtra, wuxtra, Metropolitan Bulletin, " hoarsely shouted a small newsboy the next mornin. " D. D., criminal, escaped convict, enlisted in U. S. Marines! Wuxtra, here, lady, mysterious Mr. Treble in the Xavy an ' b ' gosh M ' am the cops ain ' t even gonna ' rest him! " ELIZABETH DENBIGH. Grow potatoes, Cook potatoes, Eat potatoes, WHY? Mash potatoes, Hash potatoes, By a good ally.

Page 9 text:

THE TARGET 7 Farmer Higby and Liberty Bonds " No, " said Farmer Higby decided- ly, " I don ' t want to buy any Liberty Bonds. Good day, " and he pushed the agent out of the door and closed it. " Well, there ' s another one got- ten rid of, Ma, " he called to Mrs. Higby. " Well, come in and set down to supper, now, " she answered. " I guess we had beter eat now even if Tom ain ' t home yet. He ' ll probably come in after we ' ve finished and expect me to warm up supper for him. " When they had finished supper Mr. Higby sat and read the paper while Ma washed the dishes. At nine o ' clock Mr. Higby got up and announced his intention of going to bed. " Don ' t you go and set up for Tom now, Ma, " he ordered. " He can fix up something to eat for him- self. You better come to bed now, too. And don ' t go leaving the lamp lit cither. Coal oil costs money these days. " Ma sighed and obeyed him. When he had gone upstairs she sneaked into the pantry and cutting a large slice of pie she left it on the kitchen table for Tom. In tbe morning when Mrs. Higby went into the kitchen to light the fire she noticed that the pie was still there. " Hum, " she said to herself. " 1 never knew Tom to leave a piece of pie yet. Well, I might as well put it away because if I don ' t it won ' t last long. " Sh e went to call Tom, and receiving no answer, she opened the door. The room was empty and the bed was untouched. Evidently Tom had not come home that night at all. But when Pa went out to feed the chickens he found an envelope under the door addressed to " Mr. and Mrs. Higby. " Together they opened it and what was their sur- prise when they found that it con- tained a note and a check for fifty dollars! The note was scribbled in pencil and read, — " Dear Ma and Pa, " I have decided to enlist in the army, so good-by. Enclosed find fifty dollars with which to buy a Liberty Bond. This is the money I earned picking fruit this summer. When I get off for a few days I ' ll try to come and see you. Good-by, " TOM HIGBY. " There were tears in Pa ' s eyes as he finished reading the note. " Well, Ma, " he said, " I ' m going to hitch up Susy and we ' ll go down to the bank as quick as she can go. " In a few minutes he came in and found Ma already to start. They set off at a brisk pace for the bank. " How much money on my ac- count? " Mr. Higby inquired of the clerk. " Five hundred and forty-three dol- lars, sir, " he answered after consult- ing his books. " Put it all in Liberty Bonds, " commanded Pa, " and here are fifty dollars more to be put in my wife ' s name. " . MARJORIE LEW IN. Get behind our soldiers, Fight against the Huns, Save your dimes and nickels, Save your country ' s sons!

Page 11 text:

THE TARGET For the Love of iMike In a trench the men were silent, and each one was wrapped in medi- tation. The sky was turning- gray, and in a moment the command would come. Alike, a young Irish soldier, held a small, black dog on his knee. Perhaps it would be the last time the chums could be to- gether. " Pep " seemed to realize that something new was to take place, and he gazed into his master ' s eyes. Mike gave a faint smile, and whis- pered, " You ' re all I got, me boy, but you ' re enough. I may not be a-comin ' back to you, and you won ' t know why. But it matters little. It ' s for the cause, me boy. Better a little dog than a lass a-pinin ' her heart away, back home. " The word came, — " Over the top! " Into the face of the enemy rushed the men, and staggering forward, they fought desperately. A bomb burst near Mike and he fell un- conscious into a shell-hole. The day broke and looked upon a scarred field dotted with bodies of the dead, the dying and wounded. Still the fighting raged on. Night brought relief and the trench was captured, but Mike lay motion- less. Across the field crawled a small black figure, pausing at each body to smell, and whine, and then go on courageously. Finally there was a bark of joy. " Pep " had found his injured master. He barked wildly, and ran a short distance away. There was no response, and the little animal became more ex- cited. Another figure moved upon the field. It was the stretcher-bearer. Instinct told " Pep " that help was near and he ran toward the moving object. Whining and crawling he approached the Red Cross man, and in dog-language informed him that he was wanted. At last they came to the hole, and " Pep " jumped upon his master. Barking, and licking his face he tried to express his thanks and joy. " Well, for the love of Mike! " ex- claimed the stretcher-bearer. " This is the pluckiest little fellow I ever saw! " A few weeks later, when Mike was in the hospital, he called for " Pep. " The dog was brought in for a moment. " You did it ' cause you were lovin ' me; didn ' t you, me boy? " he said, stroking his pet ' s head. " Pep " wagged his tail joyfully, as if to say " Yes, master. I did it for the love of Mike. " MARTHA HANNA. PLANT FOR OUR BOYS. All hail, to the hoe, ye boys and girls ! Glad Spring is calling all, Think not of play, of dress, of curls, But plant to glean this fall. Our boys over there are calling for wheat They care not for sport and dance; Plant vegetables to save the meat Remember our boys in France! MARIE LOUISE WIEDERSHEIM. You eat potatoes Give our boys the buns; They need the wheat So they can get the Huns.

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