Alameda High School - Acorn Yearbook (Alameda, CA)

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6 THE ACORN punchers swore hilariously with him, too drunk to realize or care. But Tim, with a white, scared face, slipped out behind the bar, and with a fast beating heart took the road to the Ross stock farm, his determina- tion to save the fort and the captain he loved strengthening every move- ment. The stable door was locked, but he knew a trick with the window, and in a few moments he had dropped to the floor on the inside, breath- less, and was fumbling with shaking hands at the catch which opened the door of Mowitza’s box stall—Mowitza, the great bay thor ughbred, that had carried off scores of trophy cups and purses. The big horse snorted and laid back his ears until he heard Tim’s voice and felt Tim’s quick hands run down his neck with the steady stroke he kew, and then the loose end of a rope was thrown around his neck and he was led out to be bridled, his blanket whipped off, and a light Mexican saddle thrown on and cinched up in a few seconds. And all the time Tim was saying to himself, “If only I can make it, oh, if only [I can make it.” The stable door swung open noiselessly and Mamitza stepped out into the bitter night, eyes wide and nostrils sniffing the air nervously. In another moment Tim was up, the first time he had ever mounted a genuine racer, and he felt a thrill through his body as the big horse gathered himself together under the pressure of his knee and the touch of his hand. Softly by the house and out the drive, and then Tim leaned far forward and with the long ends of the bridle reins he cut the horse a stinging blow across the flank. Perhaps he had forgotten he was not riding another mustang, at any rate it was the first time in all his life that Mowitza had ever been struck. For a moment he paused in sheer amazement, and then with a mighty bound was off and away across the plains, his body flying low along the ground like a dark streak against the white snow. But this pace cold not last forever, and as they neared the foot- hills Tim drew rein, and Mowitza settled down to a long swinging gallop. Now they were up among the bleak pines, with the cold wind shrieking at them as they flew along, the horse’s hoofs ringing and re- echoing on the frozen ground, and Mowitza’s breath coming in long sighs and the foam from his wide open mouth blew back and streaked his dark sides with white. Tim, crouched low over the pommel was numb with cold. By and by, as the hours went by, he lost all sense of coldness and was almost drowsy, when out of the black woods ahead rang a shot!—and then another! and another! The gloom seemed suddenly peopled with shadowy forms and bullets rang on all sides. Tim felt a quick pain run like fire along his arm, and pre- sently he could feel the warm blood soaking through his thin sleeve. [nstinctively he crouched lower and urged Mowitza to his utmost: and spent though he was the Indian mustangs were no match for an English thoroughbred. For a time Tim’s pursuers were left behind and the shots died away, but Mowitza’s breath was coming in great gasps now, his legs were weak and shaky, another mile and the In-

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THE ACORN A MODERN GALLANT The electricity was already lighted as Edward Pierson came out of the big department store, having just purchased an elegant lace handkerchief for his sister’s Christmas present. His purse was ten dollars lighter, but that did not matter, for he could also see his sister’s radiant face on Christmas morning. A few yards in advance of him walked a young girl, tall and slender. He forgot his sister’s face to watch her grace and beauty of outline. He tried to recall where he had seen her before, and concluded that she was Miss Evelyn Parker, the one whom he had so long wished to meet. Yes, it was surely she, he knew the graceful curves of outline, the waves of black hair that could be dimly seen in the darkness. He wondered why she was out alone at this late hour, and felt it his duty to protect her. He thought of the handkerchief ; a brilliant idea came to him. He would take the lacy creation and ask her if she had dropped it. Then, well, he already saw their engagement announcement in the society column. With one of his brightest smiles, he stepped up behind her. Hold- ing the handkerchief in his outstretched palm, he addressed Miss Evelyn Parker. “Pardon, me,” he said, “but did you not drop your handkerchief?” A highly respectable mulatto girl turned and glared at him. Then taking his sister’s Christmas gift from his outstretched hand, she thanked him politely, and was gone before the astounded Pierson could utter a sound. GERTRUDE BROWN, Dec., ‘08. WHEN WE RAISED THE ROOF AT ALAMEDA HIGH By Certain Low and High Seniors. “When we were very, very small And went to school, oh my! Twas then we used to raise the roof At Alameda High. “Things always were the same to us For, was it wet or dry We stirred them up and raised the roof At Alameda High. “And when at last we left the school We thought we heard a sigh. “Ah, well! No more they'll raise the roof At Alameda High!” So now, you Scrubs, draw near to us And hear of days gone by, The time we used to raise the roof At Alameda High!”