Analy High School - Azalea Yearbook (Sebastopol, CA)

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have always been my friend. Here, I give you these to keep always, Senor,” and he handed O’Farrel his silver spurs. “My father’s father’s grandfather had them, Senor; they were taken from the heathens many years ago, my father told me. My ancestors were great men, Senor Judge.” “But—but, Jose,” said the old man, trying to make his face belie the mist in his eyes. “But, my boy, I sentenced you to be hanged. Why do you give me these?” “Yes, Judge Jasper, you sentenced me to death, but you did not believe me guilty. Those dogs,” he said, with a contemptous gesture of his hand, indicating the small group of men in the distance, “They said Guilty! What do they know of truth? You know I was innocent, Senor, but you could do nothing with them. Why do you put on that tiger look? It cannot fool me, and besides your eyes make it lie. Death is pleasing to me, Friend Jasper, when I know that you know I’m innocent.” Without saying a word, Judge O’Farrel accepted the prof¬ fered spurs, and then gazed intently away at some distant landscape. The first rays of sun lighted the morning heavens in the west. A brown bird twittered in a nearby bush, and a far-off quail whistled to its mate. Higher and higher climbed Old Sol, until finally his old bald head poked over the rim of Eng¬ lish Hill and looked disdainfully down at a quiet group of men and a gnarly old oak. “Adios, Senor Judge, you will see me again with my father and little Pat,” said Jose. But the Hon. Jasper O’Farrel’s retreating form had passed around a turn and out of hearing. A rope creaked over a rough oak limb. —Roy Williamson. 12

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a ornery half-breed; just string ’em up or drag ’em a bit, that’s all. Say, a bunch of us boys will do it, and you’ll never have to know what happened. Lemme get up a party, will you, Judge?” “No,” said O’Farrel, and there was no lynching party. The trial was held in the living room of Jasper O’Farrel’s ranch house. It was a long room, with a fireplace at one end, devoid of furniture, except a bare redwood table and a couple of rough benches. On the wall were two pair of buck horns, which supported a muzzle-loading rifle, and on one of the antlers hung a powder horn. A stout peg in the corner sup¬ ported a heavy saddle. Jose told the truth from the beginning to the end, but he told it in an Indian fashion. He was sullen and marose; he refused to look at the jurors, but kept his lowered eyes on Judge O’Farrel’s face. Seven jurors, including the prosecut¬ ing attorney, heard and doubted; one judge heard and believed. Seven jurors voted guilty of murder in the first degree. Judge O’Farrel personally knew the young man was inno¬ cent, yet the jury said “guilty.” There was nothing else for him to do. “Jose,” he said, trying to look sternly at the prisoner, “You will be hanged tomorrow morning at sunrise, on that big oak tree where we killed those coons. Sabe?” it was a different Jose that answered. He drew himself up to his six feet two inches and said: “Yes, Senor Judge Jasper, and how may I go to this tree?” “You may ride your Don Pedro unguarded, Jose, and you will not be watched tonight, either,” said Judge O’Farrel. Jose flashed him a smile which exposed a row of strong white teeth, and replied, “Thank you, Senor, you are a gentle¬ man like my father was. Good night,” and so saying, he de¬ liberately turned his back on the seven jurors and left the room. As the first gray streaks of dawn were climbing over Eng¬ lish Hill, Jose was at the old deformed oak tree, the first there. He was dressed in his gayest attire, with his red silk sash around his waist, and was singing some old Spanish love ballad that his father had taught him. Jasper O’Farrel was the last to come . He would have preferred to stay away altogether, but he thought the legality of the affair demanded his presence. Jose rode up to him, dismounted, and extended his hand. “Ah, Senor Judge,” he said, “I am glad you have come; you 11

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JWrt Rat MO knew where be came from or when he arrived in AM Bodxe ’ nor dld anyone care. After he had hung around L camp long enough to gain the sobriquet of Useless and to be grubstaked he set out in the search of the Great Mother Lodge. tt aft er day, with his two burros for his companions, Useless picked inquiringly at the dull rock surface, and many a time had the blood rushed to his head and his heart beat wildly when he dug out a rich shovelful of pay dirt, but the next shovelful would be barren, and the next, until he knew that was a touch of irony on the part of Nature. But when the blistering sun sank over the desert, leaving the great waste of sand and sage brush sharply defined in the clear air, and when the stars shone like huge candles, there arose a feeling of peace and happiness in the heart of Useless, and as lie fried his bacon he addressed his remarks to his .lacks, who always answered him in the affirmative by wrig¬ gling their ears. s Time passed, leaving little of its mark upon Useless ex¬ cept that he became a little more bent and more hopeful, until head SP ° ke ° f h ‘ m laughed and P oin ted to their For truly the desert had gripped him, gripped him with her tenacious hold, and while hating her and her merciless cruelty, tor ’tis only on her bosom can the strongest survive yet he loved her as his home, his as much as that of the wolf and the buzzard. Then one momentous day Bodie was stirred clear to her foundations, for the rumor had spread that Useless, the “Rat of the Desert,” had struck it rich on a huge vein of ore. Surely this was enough to startle any of the natives, for Useless had so long been deemed a harmless lunatic that the thought of him striking pay dirt was surprising. Then came another surprise. Useless and his grubstaker a local saloon man, had sold out to the Bodie Mining Co. for one hundred thousand dollars, and had set out to see the sights ot ban b rancisco and, as Useless expressed it, “to see what a tree looked like and where water wasn’t the color of coffee.” After they had nearly asphyxiated themselves by blowing 13