Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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He galloped to the lone oak, where about two hundred and fifty men, mounted and robed in white, were assembled. He shouted, Follow! and, half by impulse and half in spirit of adventure, they followed their unknown leader. They galloped through the village. The villagers, awakened from their dreams, rushed out crying, Fire, murder, help, naming about every calamity which could befall a village. It was a wonderful and ghostly sight, two hundred and fifty white- robed men galloping after a mad leader, and the full moon shining upon them. They galloped along the road until looming up in front of them, a hundred soldiers, called by the frightened villagers, stood ready to oppose them. The would-be clansmen scattered in all directions, excepting the mad leader, who charged at the thin line of troops. In his mind his former clansmen were charging behind him, and what could that thin line before him do against the impact of a cavalry charge of the Flower of the South? The soldiers stood amazed at such a strange sight ; the moon shining over the scene, the village lights flashing on behind, clansmen disappear- ing in the distance, and one lone clansman, charging straight at them. One soldier alone fired, and the clansman fell from his horse — dead. They were surprised, indeed, when, lifting the hood, the stately face of Colonel Saville was revealed. The next day, the mayor, in going over the belongings of Colonel Saville, came across the records and names of the clan, and being a loyal Southerner, he placed a cross next to the name of Robert Saville, and then threw the records into the fire. WILLARD COWARD. TO-MORROW Don ' t put off ' till to-morrow What you can do to-day, Because the very next time It will be the same way; If some one offered a present, I ' m sure you wouldn ' t say : I ' ll get it some other time; I can ' t to-day. LOUIS MOMYER.

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The Last Ride of the Last Clansman r OLONEL ROBERT SAVILLE, though gray with years, lived alone on his old Southern plantation, with just enough negroes to keep the place looking respectable. He held aloof from the villagers, and seemed to live in memories of days gone by. As a youth, he had fought fearlessly under Lee, throughout the Civil War, from the glorifying early battles, to the dismal battles of the Wilderness. Returning home from the war, he sought to peaceably rebuild his father ' s plantation. However, the newly-freed negroes, under the leader- ship of unscrupulous white men, had control of the legislation, and made life unbearable for their former masters. So the former masters formed a secret organization called the Klu Klux Klan, for the purpose of mak- ing life unbearable for their former slaves. Robert Saville was a leader of one of these bands of night-riders and many a deed of atrocity was performed in order that the masters might be freed from the rule of their former slaves. Finally, the band dissolved, partly because of the opposition of the government and party because their purpose had been accomplished. Robert Saville retained in his possession the records and names of the clan. As the years rolled by and the members of the clan died, Saville placed a cross next to their names, until finally each name had a cross next to it excepting the name of Robert Saville. The year nineteen-twenty found him old, but still able to ride a horse well, and fire still flashed from his eyes. Another band of Klu Klux Klan had formed, for what purpose no one knew. Robert Saville sat, one evening, thinking of his comrades who had passed away, when an old servant came running in and excitedly informed him that he had just seen a large band of clansmen by the lone oak, the meeting place of the former clansmen. He had lived in the memories of the past, but now he lived in the past. His mind lapsed and went back fifty years. He was young, his band was waiting for him. He sprang from his chair with his former agility, and drew his clan uniform from where he had carefully preserved it. He put on the white robe with the crimson cross. He placed on his head the cone-shaped hat. The horse snorted with fright at the strange sight when he at- tempted to mount it, for the horse which had originally carried the clans- man had long since died.

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The Legend of the Three Hills THERE are three hills near the walls of the Alhambra. These h lis were enchanted by a Moorish wizard, who gave the charm, a piece of Moorish money, to the last Moorish king. He must have lost it in his hurried flight from the Alhambra, for although legends told of its magic power, and many people searched for it, never had it been seen. One day Pedro Gill, Son of the Alhambra, was loitering in the garden below the town of Comares, when his eye was attracted by the glitter of some object on the ground under an orange tree. Picking it up and examining it curiously, he found it to be an old Moorish coin. Pedro put the strange money in his pocket. Late that night, returning from Granada, he was about to enter the gate of the Alhambra, when he saw a beautiful Moorish princess. He was surprised and frightened to see her. She told him not to be afraid, but to bring his cart and follow her, and that the coin he had found that day would bring him great riches. But you must not speak a word, for the moment you speak, the charm will be broken, she said. He followed her to the first hill. She waved her hand and a great door opened. Enter, she said, and take all you can carry in one trip. He saw three chests filled with gold. Taking the largest chest, he placed it in the cart. He then followed the Princess to the second hill. She waved her hand again. Enter, she said, and take all you can carry out at one time. He filled his pockets with the jewels and took the largest sack, and put it in his cart. Now follow me to the last and largest hill, and here you may take all the gold and jewels the hill contains, and they are more valuable than the other two put together. She waved her wand, and the huge door opened. The room was filled with the most wonderful jewels, with sacks and chests of gold and silver. When Pedro saw them he cried out, Moorish jewels! Moorish gold! The great door closed. The Princess vanished, and Pedro found himself standing alone just outside the wall of the Alhambra. He thought at first that he had been dreaming, but turning, beheld his cart with the chest and sack of gold and jewels. Rejoicing, he quickly made his way home, and from that night lived a life of leisure, no longer Pedro the Ragged, but Pedro the Rich. BOUCHER SNYDER.