Analy High School - Azalea Yearbook (Sebastopol, CA)

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threw off the brakes, but the mules, all holding the same rest¬ ful positions, did not move. Although there was a whip at hand it was not Gabe’s habit to resort to its use, for he under¬ stood his four mules, and held that better results could be ob¬ tained by talking to them than by using the whip. Again he entreated the mules, but still there was no re¬ sponse. With an exasperated grin, Gabe addressed the lead mule in his slow Mariposa drawl: “Danyell, ef yuh don’t git to movin’ suddint, I’ll have to come down thar and git yuh.” Slowly the big mule straightened to the traces, followed as slowly by the three other sons of Balaam. Gabe chuckled un¬ derstanding! y, while a slow smile crossed his placid face. The supply wagon came to a stop before the porch of the general store in Mariposa. A man in the olive drab of the U. S. Army stepped from the door and approached the wagon. On his sleeve he wore the chevrons of a lieutenant of the Quar¬ termaster Corps. His coming had caused a stir in the isolated town. Mari¬ posa, a boom town in the days when the West was young, had long ago been deserted for the great cities of commerce and industry, and only the “old-timers” and their sons and daugh¬ ters, those who had seen the birth and growth of the mushroom city, now remained there and kept the tales and traditions alive. Yes, they knew that the United States was engaged in some foreign trouble, being so far from the great centers of war activity, they did not realize that it was anything more than a dispute, of which our history records many. The officer was soon surrounded by a group of natives eager to learn something of the war at first hand. Many and difficult were the questions he had to answer; some were even comical, but all were answered in a careful, painstaking man¬ ner. But as the great supply wagon came to a stop the lieu¬ tenant left his inquisitors and hurried to the driver. “Very nice mules you have there, Mr. Tuttle,” he said. “Y-e-s. They’re a mighty understandin’ bunch,” Gabe answered. “Work pretty well, do they!” asked the lieutenant. “They ain’t no better in Californy fer my work,” said Gabe with pride. “So I have heard,” returned the lieutenant. “Do you

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4$Huh j lumtcr By HARRY BORBA (First Award.) OUR white mules tugged and strained to lift the loaded supply wagon to the last level of Lost Moun¬ tain. The tugs creaked under the strain and the wagon tongue wobbled from side to side as first one and then the other of the wheel mules, with an unusual effort, pulled ahead for a minute, only to fall behind again in another, while the lead mules pulled stead¬ ily, as if to reprove their unsteady mates of the tug. As the wagon, groaning under its load of flour, meat and bread, a week’s supply for the isolated village of Mariposa, rolled on to the summit, Gabe Tuttle jammed on the brakes, for the mules had already come to a stop. It was their usual stopping place. Gabe dropped the lines to whittle himself a chew from a plug of Granger Twist. This accomplished, he crossed his long legs in the best attitude of comfort under the circum¬ stances, while he let his gaze wander over the landscape, which was starting to show the first signs of coming summer activity. Here a field had been plowed, there a group of men were clear¬ ing a field, and everywhere nature was beginning to burst forth. As he gazed he hummed a strain from “My Old Kentucky Home,” pausing occasionally to shift his quid from one cheek to the other. Suddenly, reminded by the afternoon sun, he turned from the beautiful scene to pick up the lines which lay where he had dropped them. He sorted them deftly between the proper fingers of either hand, clucked to the wheel mules, mumbled aloud to the leaders, and humped his body to meet the swing of the wagon as it should start forward. But there was no movement forward, no pull on the tugs, and Gabe, surprised, looked up to see Daniel, the biggest lead mule, still resting on one hind leg with the other hind leg re¬ laxed and resting toe-downw ard in the sand, apparently un¬ aware of any desire on the part of the driver to move. The other mules held like attitudes of rest, for they regarded Dan¬ iel as leader and were satisfied to wait until he moved. “Gee, mules!” shouted Gabe, as he slacked the reins and

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know that our country is now engaged in the greatest war the world has ever known?” “I had heerd tell a little on’t, but from what I kin figger, it’s just a family quarrel among the furrin royalties, in which we have become mixed through our commerce.” ‘‘No. Mr. Tuttle, you are mistaken. The freedom of the whole world has been threatened by Germany and her allies, all the resources of the United States are being massed for a great drive on militarism. That is why I am here today. 1 came to see you, Mr. Tuttle, because we need good, heavy¬ working, “understandin’ ” mules in the Quartermaster Corps, where all army supplies are handled. What value do you place upon them!” ‘‘Wal, I ain’t hankerin’ after losin’ ’em’ since we have been pullin’ together nigh onto seven years; but ef you l ' eallv need ’em, I reckon you kin set your own price and I’ll be sat¬ isfied. But keep in mind you’re only buyin’ flesh and bone, cause the understandin’ is purely personal, and priceless.” This he said bravely, for as yet he did not realize how much that ‘‘understandin’ ” meant to him. There were two large tears creeping down two weathered cheeks from two big peaceful brown eyes, as a few days later Gabe Tuttle saw his four comrades driven away on what might be their last trip over Lost Mountain. A lump in his throat caused him to gasp and a sob shook his long face. Then as old Daniel turned and gave a long blantant hee-haw of protest, Gabe turned away, and his face reddened as lie choked back a sob and muttered something about bein’ a damn fool. For days Gabe remained sorrowing around the general store, peering always toward Lost Mountain as though ex¬ pecting to see the four white mules appear somewhere on its winding road. The storekeeper urged Gabe to find some more mules and go after a load of supplies, but Gabe only mumbled and remained, face toward Lost Mountain, as if waiting for the mountain to give up his companions of the trail. Then he dis appeared from the neighborhood, and no one knew where lie had gone. Almost simultaneously with his disappearance there ap¬ peared at Qamp Fremont a tall, straight figure, covered with dust from head to foot. He asked the way to the headquarters of the Quartermaster Corps. Arrived, he told the officer in charge that lie had but lately given up four of the finest mules