Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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A Rescue in a Mining Shaft (As Told Round a Campfire) LTHOUGH Bob Huntington had been a scout for only two years, he had more merit badges than any other boy in the troop. He understood first aid, woodcraft and bird study so well that none of the other boys could equal him. He could signal like a marine. In athletics he did not excel because he was too light for football and baseball did not appeal to him. Dick Thomas, the biggest boy in the troop, seemed to live for just these sports. He lost no chance to tease Bob whenever the two met. Once he went so far as to call him “yellow” and a fight had followed. This was the state of affairs when they came to the scout camp in the summer. Bob stood with patience the bullying remarks of Dick. Finally he came to the conclusion that Dick really could not swim. He had noticed that Dick always went in with the others, but he could never remember seeing him swim. The thought occurred to him that if he could duck him in front of the others, it would be a good chance to get even. One day after mess when the scouts were free to amuse themselves as they wanted to, Bob started up a nearby mountain trail to explore the shaft of an old mine. This had an opening like a cave and on going in he discovered a dark pool. Bob was very much interested in minerals and stopped to examine some specimens, when he heard a shrill cry. It came from above and immediately afterward he heard other voices calling excitedly. Springing to his feet, he climbed the slope quickly. On reaching the top he learned that Dick had fallen down the shaft. In an instant he recalled the dark pool. Just them he heard Dick calling in terror. Leaping up, he tore off his shoes and let himself down the shaft. For a moment he hung on the edge looking into the dark space below. The mean things Dick had said flashed in his mind. Gritting his teeth, he loosened his hold and a little later landed in the pool with a splash. “Dick,” he called, “where are you?” “Here,” came back a faint voice, “but I’m slipping.” Bob swam in that direction, grabbed Dick, who by now was un- conscious, and made for the entrance. It was a hard pull. The outlet to the cave seemed miles away, the cold dark pool was full of terrors, and his body ached. More than once he thought the end had come.

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‘Father, father,’ I panted, ‘there’s a bear — by our house — and m-mother’s — afraid it ' ll get in the house. She’s at it — with a broom — and wants you to g-go help her kill it.’ “He went before I had finished this speech, and I followed as closely as I could. I was just in time to see my father take aim at the bear. It rolled over stone dead. “Mother, although she knew baby was safe, ran into the house to pick him up in her arms and hug him, thanking God for his deliverance and mine.” As grandma finished, she looked over at us. We had been inter- ested in the story, but were ready to retire. Just then the clock struck “Bedtime! Bedtime! Bedtime!” and we obeyed it. We called back out thanks to grandma for helping us pass the evening pleasantly. Then we went to bed to dream of bears, pigs and numerous other things. MARGARET LAMB. A Letter New Hope, Louisiana Territory, August 14, 1810. Dear Mother: We had many trying times coming across the country. Notwith- standing the hardships, we wish you were here with us; but with the dangers and hardships of the journey we do not want you to start. The country is all woodlands and we are cutting the tall trees down and building our log houses before winter sets in. It was not an easy matter to cross the Appalachian Mountains and the Mississippi River. We had to bind willows on the sides of the wagons to make them float and we lost some of our cattle. We were attacked by a straggling band of Indians and lost a few of our men but outside of that we had little trouble with them. The Red River overflows its banks and the land is damp and rich but our cabins are on a hill and the water doesn’t get to them. We planted a garden and we are going to clear our place better and plant corn. The leaves of the trees have fallen year after year and are rotting where they lay. This is responsible for the rich land, not scratched before with a plow. The three families already here have helped us in many ways. They came when the country was first thrown open to settlers and are most willing to show us how to avoid some serious mistakes which they made. Write soon. Your son. PAUL WITTICH.

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Finally he heard voices. He felt the strong grasp of the scout- master’s arm. Then everything grew black. The next thing he knew he found himself lying in his tent. That evening when the rest were gathered around the campfire, Dick came to his tent. At first neither spoke. Then Dick said, “I’ve been an awful cad. The trouble was you had so many badges and you beat everyone at swimming. I’ve always wanted to swim but never could, and well, I guess I was jealous.” Bob was still dazed from his adventure but Dick looked so miser- able that before he knew it he had promised to teach him to swim. The next few days after mess they slipped away by themselves to a little cove not far away where under skillful training Dick soon learned to swim. But best of all Bob kept his word. None of the other boys ever knew. WILBUR NEWELL. MY BEAR The bear upon my dresser sits. And eats until his eyes are slits. All of the pence that lie around. He gobbles up with a furious bound. With a grave shake of his wise head He seems to say: ‘‘See that I’m fed; Some day you will be very glad For the rich food that I have had.” Into his tummy every day A shiny penny wends its way, To help against that future time When I shall need this treasure fine. Off to the bank the bear must go. For that’s where he hides his loot, you know; And when you ask him where he’s been, He only answers with a grin. For he knows just as well as you That if we save each penny too, We’ll be like King Midas was of old. Happy in the knowledge of a well-filled hold. BETH SWINN.