Analy High School - Azalea Yearbook (Sebastopol, CA)

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4 4 4 NDER a dark sky, a weary rider on a tired, plodding- horse, slowly advanced from the north. A streak of opal dawn lit the east and shed its golden light across the desert, and even on the mountains in the west, until the sand looked.like grains of gold. The rider lifted his head and, reining his weary horse, turned his face toward the western mountains. He saw the rosy light that had turned them to gold, and his face bright¬ ened, as if the light was reflected from them on his drooping spirits. Then he straightened his broad, young shoulders, and, pressing his lips together, again began his journey. As the sun rose his face became more visible. His long, dark lashes shaded eyes so dark that it was almost impossible to tell whether they were brown or blue. They looked straight ahead and burned with a fiery hatred. His nose was almost straight and his lips were full, though pressed tightly together, either with pain or deep determin¬ ation. His skin was tanned, but on each cheek was a ruddy glow that told of his strength and health. The sun rose higher and the heat increased. It seemed to the rider that the mountains would disappear at intervals and he would face an endless waste. After hours and hours of scorching heat, the sun was seen on the downward slope toward the spot somewhere in the longed-for mountains. A picture of his widowed mother burned unceasingly in his brain. The hateful name Murray beat in his ears. His father was murdered by that man. He remembered the last, dying words of his father: “Avenge my death, little son; promise me that you will.” He had promised, young as he was, and hardly knowing the mean- irg of those painfully gasped words. He remembered the face of Murray faintly; a large, round face, so hateful to his memory now. He (Out nf the IVscrt By FRANCES HOWARD, ' 22 (SECOND AWARD) 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 PAGE 13

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and alighted quietly, finding himself in a dark room. He groped about blindly for a moment until lie saw the o utlines of three men in an ad¬ joining room. He discovered that he was at an advantage, for Ling Ti Foo’s back was turned toward him. Swiftly he tiptoed forward, his hand clutching the handle of his long, pointed knife, a triumphant smile already on his lips, for he was confident that at last lie and his descend¬ ants would have the jade ring. A moan so soft that it almost seemed a sigh reached Chong Lee’s ears. He turned and found that a white-faced figure stood beside him, gazing with fright and horror into the adjoining room. She was Wang, the beautiful daughter of Ling Ti Foo. Instantly Chong Lee was over¬ whelmed with love for her. His hand dropped from the hilt of his knife, and he forgot the jade ring and his agreement to kill Ling Ti Foo. Suddenly Wang became aware of his presence. She shrank back in terror, but Chong Lee stepped forward and besought her not to fear him. “Are you not,” she asked, “an enemy of my father who has come to kill him and rob him of his treasure?” “I am no longer,” answered Chong Lee. “I would willingly be the humblest of slaves, only to find favor in your eyes.” She turned quickly toward l im and said, “Oh, if you would assist my father, who is now facing death at the hands of his two enemies, you would find thankfulness and love for you in my eyes until eternity.” Not many minutes later old Ling Ti Foo was curiously turning over the dead bodies of the men who, if the strange rescuer had not come, would surely have ended his life ,and stolen the jade ring. Gaily colored lanterns were strung from one blossom-covered cherry tree to another, and the merry Chinese were enjoying a great feast, for tonight Wang and Chong Lee were to be wedded. Old Ling Ti Foo was seated in his luxurious home opposite the enamored pair. In bis hand was a teakwood casket inlaid with mother of pearl. “My children,” he said, “I give you this priceless ring, made by the Spirit of Love and given to his bride, which has kept sorrow and. shadow out of my past life. I need not tell you the tradition that goes with it, as you both already know it. I am happy that, when T pass on this ring, I need not warn you to beware of the descendants of How Sang, for that is all ended now.” And tlie Spirit of Love was happy also, and smiled triumphantly as he scored another victory against his adversary, the Fiend of Hate, brother to the Fiend of Jealousy. PAGE 12

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didn’t realize how great was the wrong done his mother and himself. It was the weight of that murder that whitened the beautiful crown of brown hair and bent her poor shoulders. Now he was on his way to avenge that deed, and he would. At dark the desert lay behind him and before him the foothills. When the moon rose it shed its light on a sm,all camp, a tired horse and a ranger. The cool air rested both horse and rider, and after a short sleep they were on their way. It was very early. The moon was still queen of the sky, but her light was waning. At sunrise he w x as near the town he had started for. Desert Pass was just in the edge of the foot-hills on the other side of the range of mountains. To him it looked uninteresting and uninviting. The rider dismounted at the general merchandise store. He dropped the reins of his horse and left him to nibble the grass of the spring rains, and entered the store. There were several people in the place, who stared at him until his back was turned upon them, and then buzzed away among them¬ selves. He paid no attention to anyone, b ut walked straight to the counter. He was not looking for friends or friendship, but for an enemy and trouble, and he usually got what he looked for. The store was small, dirty and behind it was a blacksmith shop. The odor of burning hoofs filled the air. A fat, dissipated man with small dark features entered from the blacksmith shop and came up to the counter. “Can you tell me where I can get a room and board!” the rider asked in his naturally pleasant way. The old fellow shrugged his heavy shoulders and sneeringly answered, “I ain’t a selling board and room; I’m a sellin’ groceries an’ terbaecer.” “You’re not selling anything to me,” returned the rider, and with a look that shot fire, but had the effect of a chill on the storekeeper, he left the building. He paused on the platform and stamped his foot, t o shake the dust from his boot, then turning asked of a tousle-headed boy sitting by the hitching post: “Say, partner, who’s that fat brute in t 1 ere?” The boy smiled back with a sympathetic answer, “That’s old Colonel Gee; ain’t he an old crank, though?” The child had made a friend of the rider and asked, with his large blue eyes wide open: “What’s your name?” and in the same breath, “Do you ride that bay horse over there?” “You iust call me pard.” He knew it was best to keep his name to himself, with the business that he had before him. PAGE 14