Analy High School - Azalea Yearbook (Sebastopol, CA)

Page 16 text:

By HOMER THOMAS (First Poem Award) Gypsy blood, gypsy blood, and all the world to roam, Gypsy blood, gypsy blood, the long road is our home, Oh, can’t you hear it calling, Love, a wild insistent urge. Thrilling with desire, dear, in a mad heart rendering surge? It’s wild blood, wild blood, it never can be tame. It’s wild blood, wild blood, in you it beats the same. Oh, let us heed desire, Love, to journey far and long, Thro’ many distant lands, dear, for the gypsy call is strong. Gypsy blood, it’s wild blood, it’s music to my ear, Gypsy blood, it’s wild blood, and you, the song, must hear; Together we will go. Love, we ne’er will be content. Until we see the world, dear, before our youth is spent. Gypsy blood, gypsy blood, the longing call is strong. And we are ready to answer. Love, and go the road that’s long. 10

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But Jerry and the pup outlived the Most Prominent Citizen, and several more most Prominent Citizens. But never did they give up their job or fail to do their duty, although Jerry grew feeble and made many mistakes and the pup grew cross to all but Jerry. He never ran after or even noticed other dogs, except for one last unfortunate time. The Most Prominent Citizen at the time was a big man, very self important and with no sense of duty except to himself, but he did have a huge bull dog that was the terror of every one in town. One day on their usual way to town, the bull dog sprung at Jerry with a ferocious snarl. There was a flash of black and white, the dull thud of falling bodies, a quick sharp yelp and then silence. Like lightning the pup s teeth sank into the bull’s soft throat; deeper and deeper they went until the bull dog lay silent and rigid. Then rising, the pup gave himself a majestic shake and stalked to where Jerry stood. The latter laid a trembling hand on his head and looked appealingly at the Most Prominent Citizen, who did not seem able to grasp the situa¬ tion. He called to the bull dog, rolled him over with his foot and then as tho’ it had only just dawned on him what had happened, he turned to Jerry in a rage, “You!” he shouted, waving a fat red fist at him, “Your dog has killed mine, killed him, do you hear! You shoot your dog tonight or he’ll meet a worse death!” he screamed, his face turning purple. Then unable to say more because of the rage that choked him, he stamped into his office and slammed the door. Jerry stared after him and then at the pup who looked at him with his beautiful big brown eyes, then turned slowly and walked down the street, the pup following. The next day the town waited for the appearance of Jerry, and when he did not appear they were alarmed and sent a boy to his cabin. The door stood open and the cabin was empty but scrupuously clean. Once more the “Investigation Committee” met and sent out a small searching party. For four days and four nights they searched, but on the fifth night as one weary member was watching the bank of the Lagoon he fancied he saw the moon gleam on something white in the midst of a clump of bushes. Hurrying to the spot he parted the bushes, started, then he knelt and reverently removed his hat. There lay the pup, his black coat no longer glossy, his white ruff dirty and draggled, his beautiful eyes dazed. Beside him lay the rigid form Jerry; gaunt and thin from starvation, one hand resting on the pup’s faithful head. The moon seemed to show a half smile on the thin old lips. 9

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turtle Back By WALTER CARROTHERS, ’20 (Second Award) The spring sun shone brightly down upon the little foothill valley or the Sierra Nevada mountains warming the hillsides and fresh green growth so soon to be dried by the scortching sun of the California summer. To the small band of Indians toiling up the mountain side its light was a welcome relief from the clouds and rains of the winter. As they ascended the trail worn deep by the feet of many ancestors, they laughed and talked, for was not the Great Father kind to them again to bring the sun for their use? , . PV S . was t j ' ! e d ?y to pl ace food and gifts for the Great Father and his Spirits at Turtle Rock, the place named by the Father for that purpose at the beginning of all things. For weeks now the tribe had been preparing for this day and now they were on their way to lay their riches before the Creator of All Things. Snake Eye alone was unhappy, not because he had nothing to give to receive the kindness ot the Great father, but because he coveted the gift that his tribesman. Little Beaver, was to leave at Turtle Rock this day. Many suns he had rooded over this and at last he knew he should have the prize for his own. As the long line of Indians neared the rock all laughter and talking ceased and all noise hushed because they now walked on the ground ot the Gods. One after another they placed their presents before the rock and departed, glad to be away from such awful ground. The last to place his present before the rock was Snake Eye, and when departing, he went up the mountain instead of down as the others had done. When he was out of sight in the blue brush, which covered the mountainside, he stopped and waited patiently for an hour to make sure they were all gone. At the end of this time he came from his place of hiding and cautiously neared the sacred rock. Several times he stoped, fear over¬ coming his want of the great string of wampum and the great medi¬ cine skm of his tribesman. The temptation was too great, however and he went on under the shadow of Turtle Rock until his greedy tingers touched his prize. Fear again gaining ascendency he turned to nee, the wampum and skin clutched in his hand. But as he turned, the ground beneath his feet gave way and with a piercing cry he tell down, down into the black abyss of the mountain, his body being 11