Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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The Thundering Herd two sons, Ralph, aged 9, and John, aged 1 4. They were headed west toward California, the land of great promise. They had been with a group of other travelers but they had an accident with their wagon and they were obliged to drop behind. They became lost on the plains and they were almost out of both food and water. The situation was becoming very serious, indeed. They could get water only at the water holes. It was in the early morning that they heard a great rumbling like a million hoofs. The ground fairly trembled. Mr. Sutter stopped the oxen and went to a nearby knoll from which he could look over the sur- rounding plains. And to his great dismay he could see nothing but buf- faloes. He hurried back to the wagon and the boys helped him unyoke the oxen and put the back end of the wagon towards the oncoming avalanche of buffaloes. They tied the oxen to the wagon so they would not be swallowed up by the buffaloes. When that thundering herd came upon them, Mr. Sutton and the boys began shooting. One buffalo was tossed up in the wagon bed and there he was killed by one of John’s well-aimed shots. In the meantime, the majority of the herd was swerving away from the wagon, because the dead buffaloes served as a bulwark in front of the wagon. After the avalanche of buffaloes had passed, Mr. Sutter and the boys dressed the one they had shot. They now had enough meat to eat so they started on their journey again. They came to a water hole at last after a long time of traveling without water. They filled their water kegs and let the oxen quench their thirst. They took enough water to last them until they came to the next hole. They camped by the hole that night. The next morning they saw several scattering herds of buffaloes but they did’t kill any. That afternoon they found the trail of their friends and followed it. That night they found them all dead. They had been murdered by a wandering war party of Apache Indians. The fortunate Sutters had thus been saved from both murder and starvation. They again started out, and after three weeks of steady traveling reached California. Mr. Sutter found a beautiful little valley where he built a cosy little home for his family. m ANY years ago a prairie schooner was slowly wending its way across the dry plains. It was drawn by two mottled oxen. The occupants of the schooner were Mr. and Mrs. Sutter and their

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Our horses were tethered nearby, but the tall grass hid them. Mrs. Thornton put a wet towel over the nose of her horse, and Mrs. Jacobs held her pony. The other women crouched in the grass hoping against hope that their steeds would not whinny, for they dared not move. I lay nearest the Indians. Quivering with terror, I squatted there, watching every move they made, and wishing that I could move farther away. Around a clump of bushes the water was ditsurbed, there were prints of our footsteps in the mud, and every sign of people being near. Should the Indians move around those reeds such plain evidence would give our hiding place away. Then, without doubt, after finishing with us, they would go to the settlement and continue their bloody work. We could easily tell by their bloody tools and watchfulness that they already had done some pillaging. Time seemed to stand still. Would they never go on? Why did it take them so long to drink? Now that they had finished drinking, why did not they go on? One of the braves was moving toward the reeds! I must do something to stop him! I was about to pop up and say, “Don’t go there! You may see us”, when one warrior whispered to the chief. He whirled around and gazed intently over the plain. A guttural com- mand was given — they were on their horses and away ! I wailed and wept, now, with fright and relief. As soon as the danger was passed we mounted our steeds and rode to camp. That night soldiers arrived from Ft. Worth, telling of the hor- rible massacres committed by these same Indians. The next morning our baggage was being piled into the covered wagons and soon we were roll- ing over the plains to Ft. Worth ADELE MONGES. MY GRANDMOTHERS GARDEN In my grandmother’s old-fashioned garden. There are old fashioned flowers rare. There are pansies, and tulips, and mignonette. And towering lilies there. There are pink little baby roses. And tiny forget-me-nots, too. That are blue as grandmother’s eyes are. As blue as the sky is blue. ROBERT LADDISH.

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The boys were educated at home as there were no schools. Mr, Sutter began prospecting for gold and he struck a rich vein. This devel- oped into the Sutter mine, the richest mine ever found in those days. Quite a large village grew up around the mine. After a few years Ralph and John married two of the prettiest girls in the village. They made their homes in the little valley where their father and mother had first settled in the wonderful West. NETTIE LAWSON. A Pony Express Rider T WAS my great-grandfather that had this thrilling experience in the ’60’s while riding in what is now Nevada but what was then a bare waste of desert land. The wind was beating against Jack Hart’s face and his legs were aching from holding them around the pony’s thin flanks. But this was not all that was troubling him. He was being chased by Indians, who were slowly but surely gaining on him. What if they caught him? He dared not think about that. Jack was a pony express rider and he was riding twice his distance that day, as the man at the end of his route had been killed by Indians. And now Jack was being chased by these same merciless warriors. As Jack made a turn he was confronted by a wide river with all of the bridge gone except a little piece at this end. There was only one thing to do and that was to hide. To turn back would mean to be captured and to try to swim the river meant certain death. So he looked around for a hiding place. Suddenly he had an idea. He went out into the water, pulling his horse after him. He then tied his horse’s mouth with a piece of deer skin so he would not make any noise. This being done, he went under the piece of bridge and lay down on the wet sand. Soon he heard the hoofbeats of the Indian ponies coming nearer and nearer, and finally the Indians talking right above him. They could not understand what had become of Jack. There were no footprints on the other side, so they concluded that he was drowned and turned back to face the anger of their chief. Jack lay still until the Indians were out of hearing. Then he got up, stretched his cramped legs, and started on again with his message. MARGARET MOLONEY.