Analy High School - Azalea Yearbook (Sebastopol, CA)

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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

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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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crushed and torn on the sharp rocks at the bottom. Slowly, steadily the heavy rock which formed the trap door swung back in place to obscure forever the fate of Snake Eye to the world. Wise medicine men; for such emergencies as these was the trap built. Though the tribe searched for days nothing was found of the missing Snake Eye. And medicine men tell no tales. Years passed. The Indians almost entirely disappeared and the white man came with his flocks and herds to settle the valley. Towns and cities sprang up in the great San Joaquin Valley below and all was hurry and activity where before there had been peace. Into one of these towns one day rode two dark visaged men, both splendidly mounted and heavily armed. Dismounting at the bank they walked in and quietly ordered the employees to hold up their hands. Frightened, they did as they were ordered to and while one of the high¬ waymen held them at bay the other entered the vaults and procured almost the total amount of the bank’s capital. As he came out bearing in his hands the sacks of money it was noticed that on his right hand there were but three fingers. At sight of this the cashier whispered shakily to his assistant who stood by him, “For God’s sake, don’t move, its Three Fingered Jack and Joaquin.” On hearing these words the white faces of the threatened men became more strained and anxious. Joaquin heard the cashier’s whisper, but could not distinguish the words. Shut up,” he said, “One more yelp and you’ll be in hell.” By this time Jack had reached the doors of the bank. Still cov¬ ering the helpless inmates, Joaquin backed out the door. As the doors swung shut the cashier jumped for his gun, but paid for his folly with his life, a shot from Joaquin’s six-gun entering his heart. During the next few seconds all stood paralyzed with fear. This intermission was all the bandits needed to place the gold in the saddle bags. Swiftly Jack mounted and leading the pack horses at a dead run made off. Joaquin waited for a few seconds to cover his companion’s retreat. Hearing shots the sheriff rushed into the street to see two horses departing at top speed and another standing by the bank, a man be¬ side it. Drawing his revolver he took hasty aim at the flying target down the street, but swayed drunkenly and crumpled in a heap at the sound of a gun from near the bank. The populace rushed into the street to learn the meaning of the shots, but were driven to cover by a volly of shots from Joaquin, who then departed in the wake of his partner. Straight into the 12