Analy High School - Azalea Yearbook (Sebastopol, CA)

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Little Boy Big Chief By IVY BURROUGHS First Prize W HY should he have looked down at that steep dark path again? He was such a tiny little boy that it always frightened him. Down the mountain it lead, gloomy pines on either side, and some¬ where in the distance were the hooting owls. Where did the path lead, and why did the owls hoot so loudly ? But mother had said that he must never, never fellow that steep trail down the mountain. So Little Boy sat down and pondered long and thoughtfully. Then it came to him. The man with the harsh voice who came yester¬ day and made mother cry, and whom she had called father, must live there. But who was he ? Little Boy knew. He was some sort of a goblin-man. So Little Boy glanced fearfully at the gloomy trail, hue kept far away from it. But why—Little Boy sat down on a stone to puzzle it all out— why, if that man were really a goblin-man, had mother called him ‘‘father”? But he must be one, he had made mother cry, and she was afraid of him, too, for she had gathered Little Boy so close to her and said: “My baby ! My little boy ! You shan ' t have him.” Then she had cried and cried, and the man had gone away without once deigning to look at Little Boy. But mother held him close all afternoon—it was hot, too, he remembered with a squirm— but mother had looked so sad Little Boy hadn’t had the heart to leave her. After awhile father had come home and he had been sent cut on the porch to play—it was nice and cool there—while mother and father talked earnestly. It was then mother had told him he must never, never go down that path. Even father had said. “No, Little Boy Big Chief, those are forbidden hunting grounds.” “Little Boy Big Chief”—that brought his thoughts back to himself. If he were really a big chief, why should any hunting grounds be forbidden him ? Surely a big chief could go anywhere. But when Little Boy neared the path it suddenly loomed up so dark and gloomy and seemed to lead right into the depths of the black unknown, that he turned and fled with all the swiftness of ii

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The “Azalea” On the mossy banks of the gurgling brook, In the forest’s leafy shade. With delicate tints of pink and white Reflecting the gleaming shafts of light As they pass through the forest’s solemn height. The Azalea’s home is made. It is jeweled with dew in the rosy dawn. When the air is crisp and cool; And it seems that the song from the thrush ' s throat Has woven within its woodland notes The sweet of Azalea blooms that floats Out over the crystal pool. —I. S., ’t 10

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which his small legs were capable. After all he was a very tiny big chief. Out in the sunny road things seemed different, and the path was attractive again. Little Boy was tired now, though, and he sank on a stone to rest. A big yellow butterfly whizzed past, and Little Boy felt for his arrows. He reached down, then remembered that mother hadn’t put his “Big Chief suit on. Well, he would go and ask her to now, and tell her what a big butterfly he would bring back to her, then may be she would forget about the goblin-man. “The goblin-man —the goblin-man had wanted him. Perhaps —perhaps if he had his big chief suit on the goblin-man wouldn’t want him. He would hardly want a big chief. So Little Boy reasoned and went hurriedly to mother. Mother looked grave when he told her about the goblin-man, and cried again, but said to Little Boy’s great relief that he wouldn’t want a big chief. Then she kissed Little Boy and sent him happily down the road with his quiver. It was then as he passed down the road Little Boy saw some¬ thing glitter in the dust. He picked it up and gazed at it, a pretty little round thing with sparkly stones around it. It was just like the thing mother wore sometimes on her neck, only it was prettier, for mother’s had no shining stones in it. Little Boy grasped it tightly and gazed wonderingly at it. It must belong to the goblin- man. Goblin-men always had quantities of bright gems, his book said so, and they loved those sparkly stones, too. He musn’t lose it. He tightened his clasp on it, and it flew open. There was a picture of a pretty curly-haired little girl inside. Little Boy gazed at it for some moments, turning the matter over in his small mind. The goblin-man liked children, he had wanted him, and this was a very pretty little girl, almost as pretty as his own mother. The thing had sparkly stones on it—and goblin- men liked sparkling stones. Perhaps if he were very brave and took this back to the goblin-man he could make him promise not to hurt mother any more, or to make her cry. Plainly, then, it was his duty to go to the goblin-man with the trinket, and exact a promise from him. He started to the edge of the path again, then paused. It was so very black. He hesitated but a moment, however—he was Little Boy Big Chief now—and he was going for mother’s sake. Reso¬ lutely he closed his eyes to shut out the darkness and started down the path. When he found courage to open his eyes again he was sur¬ prised to find that the path had grown lighter and wider. This 12