Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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“What yo’ all gwine ter do wit dat er cat?” demanded Abe, stop- ping short. “Roast her,” replied a boy amid a shout of dense laughter from the others. “Give ’er to me,” said Abe sternly, advancing toward the boy. “Well, I guess not. Snowball,” retorted one of the boys. “Yos certainly not gwine to burn er, is ya?” insisted Abe anxiously. “Yes we are,” spoke up another boy, “and you’d better beat it out of here.” “I‘ll give yo dis for ’er,” said Abe, handing over his precious ticket. The boys consulted. Only one ticket could not take them all to the circus, but they could sell it and buy a lot of things to eat with the money. “Aw, take her,” said one of the boys finally, snatching the ticket and throwing the kitten at Abe’s feet. He picked her up gently and walked away. Two great tears fell on kitty’s soft dirty fur. “Dat war gwine ter be a first-class circus,” he said, “but I’s mighty glad I happened ’long in time to save dis poo’ t’ing.” MARGUERITA KARSTEN. THE CLOCK Get up ! Get up ! Look at the clock ! Get up! Get up! No time to talk! The sun is up! ’Tis time to go! You will be late to school, I know! Oh clock, you go so very fast! But, here I am at school at last! Yet, what could I do. If it weren’t for you? The clocks at school are very slow; They seem to take an age to go. A second’s an hour, an hour’s a day. While I sit at my desk and say, “Oh clock, you go so very slow I really don’t believe you go!” Yet, what could I do. If it weren’t for you? CHIYO THOMAS.

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Two-thirty arrived and with it Reginald Hanover. “Git right in,” said Hezekiah, outwardly genial. It was a perfect day. Hez ekiah began to steer toward some piles in the bay. Suddenly — “Swish! Plop!” — and Reginald struggled to the surface of the glassy water. He knew he could expect no assistance from the judge, so he wriggled as well as possible to a nearby pile. Hezekiah stood in his boat grinning a little. “I think,” said he, “thet I’ll git somebody to write as good a story about you as you were going to about me. You’re perfectly safe up thar, and afore long there will be some boats along thet’ll pick yer up. Meanwhile you kin sit up thar and think over your sins.” Thus was Hezekiah avenged. HELEN EVELETH. Snowball His whole name was Abraham Lin- village boys called him “Snowball”, eyes BE was a little black boy coin Blackstone. The which made little Abe roll his eyes and show his teeth in a delightfully alarming manner. Early one morning a cloud of dust could be seen at the end of the little town. The boys shouted as they ran, “The circus has come!” and little Abe ran with them. He followed the splen- did procession up and down the dusty streets. The glittering wagons and spangles and banners fairly made his eyes ache. The band played. The horses with their waving plumes stepped gaily along. The clowns cut up the funniest capers. Elephants and camels were all there. Was there ever such a beautiful circus before? At last they halted at a large common lot. While tents sprang up as if by magic all over the lot, all the animals w T ere fed and the horses carefully groomed. Little Abe carried w r ater, two buckets at a time. All of the beautiful horses must drink. He w ' as helping them to satisfy their needs. This was happiness enough. But when everything was done and the showman handed him a ticket for the afternoon performance, he stared at it as if it couldn’t be real. He just managed to stammer out, “Thank yo, sah.” As he ran homeward with his prize he saw a group of boys with a kitten. The poor creature w r as mewing piteously in the hands of her tormenters.

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The Path of War HE day was unbearably hot. The vast plains of Texas seemed to fairly glow with the heat, and for that reason I was glad to help the women with the wash at the spring. It was so delight- fully cool there. Because of poor health, my uncle had come to Texas on a camping trip. Many people joined him, my father, my brother and I included. It was in the days when Indians often left their reservations to go on the war-path or other happy jaunts. I was only four then, and so I cannot remember every particular of the trip, but this incident I can never forget. Being small, I was not as much of a help as I thought I was, but I pattered around, wringing out the small things and doing other sundry jobs — besides getting in the way. I was especially fond of Indians, for those that I had seen had always given me gay trinkets, and so I was delighted to see eighteen or twenty braves come riding over the plains. “See! See !“ I cried. “Injuns come! Injuns! Injuns.” To my surprise, the women gathered up their washing and hastily retreated into the tall grass, pulling me along with them. Disappointed and angry, I commenced weeping. “See! See!” I cried. “Injuns come! Injuns! Injuns!” “Hush!” commanded one o f the women. “Don’t you see their war paint?” At the words “war paint”, my very heart stood still. Obediently I became very quiet. To our horror, the Indians rode up to the spring and dismounted. H ow we hoped they would not see us. They seemed to fear that some- one was following, for while some drank, the others kept watch. The Indians’ bodies were a brilliant red, and fantastically figured in green and blue. Their brightly colored faces were lined grotesquely in black, and their very tufts of hair seemed to bristle with hatred. Toma- hawks, none too bright, and bloody scalping knives hung at their sides. Two or three had pistols and guns, while the rest carried bows and arrows. Had the chief moved but a few feet he would have seen a fright- ened little drab bundle lying in the grass. I watched his hideously painted face anxiously. If he saw me, would he try to carry me away like an- other Indian had? No father would be near to see my kicking red shoes now. This Indian, however, had no blanket under which to hide me, as the others had, so he would not do that. He would kill me!